Mokuba was bored.

His school was having yet another guest presentation. Not only were they boring, they were beyond depressing. He had no idea just how many more of these he could take. As they waited for the person who was to be their guest speaker, he began thinking of what wonderful food awaited him at home that his brother-in-law was preparing. All of a sudden, all whisperings stops. Voices hushed, and eyes turned toward a man in jeans walking up to a podium. He opened his mouth, shocking everyone present. His voice boomed and seemed to shake the entire gymnasium, echoing inside the young billionaire's skull. It took several moments before ears adjusted to the man's volume and tone. Once that had been accomplished, mokuba began to hear what he began to say.

"I know that most of you don't want to sit through another one of these boring, mundane presentations, but I'm here for something that hits a little closer to home than bullying. We're talking abuse. Now, here's where I would pull out all these nifty little pain in all of our asses statistics, but what does that show? That I can read? No, we're going to try something a tad more intense. I'm going to show you a video, clips actually, put together to show what abuse is like. I know these people personally, and many of them didn't survive, were taken away, or something else. A lot of these souls, ended up in gangs, trying to find the family bond that they were denied, and it's heartbreaking. After my little speech here, I'm just going to pick up my stuff, and leave. Not another word to be said. So without further ado, here are the "Lost Ones"." Then, the lights dimmed, and the screen came down, showing the video.

The first image was of a girl, short brown hair, boy length, tucked up under a backwards baseball cap. She wore a pair of holey jeans, a wife beater tank top, and converse. She was pretty, but she had a sense of toughness, and anger if the scowl and flipping off of the cameraman had anything to say. She was sideways, posture strong, but hurt. Bruises covered her body, along with lacerations and scars. Under her picture was the caption, "Micah Stryker, age: 14, height: 5 foot even, current status: deceased, C.O.D.: blood loss from genital areas, rape kit performed and tested positive, further investigation was not carried out until later, assailant was victim's father."

The next segment was of a young boy, light brown hair, running around in a field, laughing. Residues of physical injuries were clearly seen, the image froze on his laughing face, his caption appearing, reading "Nakamoura Yuba, age: 7, height: 4' 9", current status: deceased, C.O.D.: gunshot wound to the head. Death was instantaneous."

So on the images continued some video, some pictures. Many crying, some scowling, a great deal bloody and or injured, a small few smiling. Then, came THE CLIP.

It was a clip of some of the faces shown in the video, all together, smiling, hurt, dying, crying, and so much in pain, but, smiling. Smiling for the simple fact that, they were alive today. Together, today, and even though, they didn't know if all of them would be there tomorrow, they were still smiling. The girl, was smiling down at one of the younger children, she seemed soft, whereas she previously seemed hard. Comforting a child, acting as every bit as a mother should. The screen went black, the end of the song fading out. And that, was all there was.

Mokuba was frozen. As the man left the students followed, none saying a word, none complaining how boring the presentation was, for they had seen faces, no, people, not statistics. Mokuba continued his way home, thinking all the while.

Eventually, he reached home. He entered, set his stuff down. And stood there, then he heard them. He heard the sounds, the clanking of pots, utensils against surfaces, and joyful singing. He followed them into the kitchen, where he spotted the blond. Before he knew what he was doing, he prang forward, and grasped at the figure's waist as tight as he could, crying. The figure turned, and embraced him back, not speaking, just comforting him. Mokuba began gasping out "Thank you! Thank you for living!", the blond having no idea what was causing the boy to act in this manner, just let him be. Not knowing what was going through the boy's head.

Mokuba continued as he were, all that was going through his mind was thanks, how this man reminded him of the girl in the video, interacting with the children, her angry scowl, and guarded posture. All that was going through his mind, was the image of this man, smiling, with a bolded capion beneath his image, reading: "Jounouchi Katsuya, age: 15, height: 5' 9", current status: deceased, C.O.D.: gunshot, gang war"