Dúchas


Gaijin. He'd heard it while walking to his favorite coffee stand. It hadn't even been directed at him, just some girls chatting animatedly as he passed, and he'd only caught one word, but it had been enough. Gaijin. He didn't mind now, barely even thought about it, but when he was younger, every time he looked in the mirror, or in a puddle, or saw his reflection on a store window, it had been a reminder. That he was a gaijin. He'd been reminded at school, at the park, at the orphanage, hell, one time he'd heard it muttered behind his back by a soon-to-be contractor. Then, he'd later overheard Kagoshima Nori, his secretary, chew the rude man out. He'd smiled slightly at her afterwards and given her a raise.

He'd heard it while walking to his favorite coffee stand. It hadn't even been directed at him, just some girls chatting animatedly as he passed, and he'd only caught one word, but it had been enough. He didn't mind now, barely even thought about it, but when he was younger, every time he looked in the mirror, or in a puddle, or saw his reflection on a store window, it had been a reminder. That he was a gaijin. He'd been reminded at school, at the park, at the orphanage, hell, one time he'd heard it muttered behind his back by a soon-to-be contractor. Then, he'd later overheard Kagoshima Nori, his secretary, chew the rude man out. He'd smiled slightly at her afterwards and given her a raise.

When he was smaller, he'd never been proud of his gaijin blood. He'd felt different, singled out from the rest, the only brown haired kid among black haired ones. Mokuba had been lucky to receive his mother's black hair, but his chestnut brown hair, with its rust highlights, were his father's. And his father's grandfather's. And his grandfather's father's and so on and so forth.

Yami and Ishtar Isis had told Seto that he had Egyptian blood in his veins, but Seto wasn't quite sure. Yes, he knew that no one could trace their family tree back that far, so it could be possible. Three thousand years was a long time for people to move around from one country to another, fall in love (or not) and get married and have kids. Seto had been lucky; his family had been able to trace their history all the way back to the third Crusade, on his father's side. On his mother's side, they'd been able to trace back to the Meiji Restoration.

"Sir? What would you like to order, sir?"

Seto blinked, and realized that he was next in line at the coffee stand. "I'll have a café latte, large, extra shot of espresso."

"Coming right up sir. That'll be $3.15."

Seto handed over the money and waited patiently for his coffee. The cashier had black hair and eyes. He was slight and short, and unmistakably Japanese. Seto sighed, and the word he'd overheard from the two girls played in his mind again. Gaijin. Gaijin.

Even though his father hadn't been Japanese, his mother had insisted on raising Seto as if he was. He hadn't completely understood what the importance of it was back then, he'd just adapted to it. Now, however, he mentally thanked her at least once a week.

'Even if he doesn't look fully Japanese, he should at least act like it. He won't be picked on as much at school.' his mother had said. They didn't know four year old Seto was standing outside of the living room, listening at the door.

'What about home schooling?' his father had asked.

'How will he make friends, then?' his mother had pointed out.

Seto still had to stifle a snort whenever he remembered that comment. Maybe when he took his coffee back to his office he'd put a bit of 'something special' in it, just for remembrance. Then his stomach twisted, and Seto immediately changed his mind. Maybe later, perhaps. Maybe even on March 17.

"Your drink, sir," The cashier said.

Seto took the coffee and sipped a bit as he walked back to his company building. He remembered that he was only three when he first got drunk (on accident, of course). After all, as if to confirm the stereotypes, his father's side of the family did enjoy their alcohol. They had been having a family reunion (because of the distance between the two families, they had one every year, and a large amount of family members always showed up) and they'd had several beer casks. Seto had been assigned the duty of handling the taps, and innocently discovered that a lot of foam was left over from pouring the beer. Being thirsty from the work (and curious) he had sucked the foam off the tap. By the middle of the party, his father had realized that his son had become quite drunk and gave him some stomach medicine and put Seto to bed, checking frequently on his son, along with Seto's mother. Seto had woken up the next day with barely a headache and a slight confusion as to why everyone kept smiling and laughing.

Seto smiled fondly at the memory and made his way up to his office. As soon as he reached it, he closed the door and placed his coffee down on his desk. He then walked over to where his stereo and CDs were kept and took out a CD at the bottom of the stack, placing it in the stereo. Seto sat down at his desk and got back to work, letting the sound of Irish bagpipes and Celtic fiddles and drums wash over him as he typed. Maybe, someday, he'd take a visit to Ireland. Not to visit his relatives, gods forbid, he'd cut off ties with them when he was ten, but just to see the country. Perhaps Yami was right about remembering the past. Perhaps he shouldn't try to forget everything.



Gaelic translations:

Duchas: Heritage


Japanese translations:

Gaijin: a rude way of saying 'foreigner'


A/N: This is what happens when you're listening to bagpipes at two o' clock in the morning. I always wondered about why the hell the cast of YGO always looked, well, not Japanese (despite the animators wanting to make the characters stand out), and voila! This was born. About Seto getting drunk when he was three, this actually happened to one of my sister's friends. He's half-Irish himself. And if no one caught the March 17 date, it's St. Patrick's Day. I tried to find something more subtle like Ireland's Independence Day, but I couldn't find one scrap. If anyone out there knows what the date is and if they celebrate it (or have celebrated it or know someone who does), I'd love to hear it. I'm a HUGE fan of Ireland myself (went to Ireland and Scotland a few years ago and fell even more in love), although I've nary a drop of Irish blood in my veins. And don't worry, I haven't neglected Battle Cries in the Shadows, I'm just a little sidetracked, that's all. I'm not sure when the next chapter is coming out. School is starting up soon and I'm starting 11th grade and taking two APs this year. Urgh. Whatever possessed me to do that?