Seto Kaiba.
That one name can bring images of a tall young man, adorned in a trench coat. Often these images are clouded with sound – of his voice and laughter. Sometimes, even with hatred, or envy.
That one name can stir such emotion in a person, very little of it good.
Everyone knows that name. It means Power, Wealth, and Ice. People will associate this name to his position of CEO, others to his rank as a Champion duellist. Some even think of him in a revering way, over his business and gaming skills combined.
Then there are those who know the real Kaiba: the one known only, as Seto.
"Are you still in there?!" The knocking was loud, but that was probably the youth's version of banging.
"Hmm? Why?"
The office door opened and a tanned face, with big eyes, and framed by dark hair, peered into the room. The youth blinked eyes of Cyan, as they surveyed the room, before resting on the object of their desire. The eyes mimicked the small, pink lips, in a concerned frown.
Seto looked up from his work, and – noting the concerned gaze – looked up at the clock. He muttered an apology tonelessly, before returning to his work. There was a faint click as the door shut, and the faint shuffle of a child's walk.
Seto blinked in complete confusion as a chicken-and-mayonnaise sandwich, and a cup of hot chocolate, obscured his file papers. Looking up, his own adult-cobalt rested on childish-cyan. The youth folded bare arms and huffed in annoyance.
"Food. Eat." He blinked again, a faint smirk making its way onto his face.
"Are you sure?" Dark-hair blinked, confused. "After all, don't you simply inhale your own dinner?"
The youth huffed again and imitated his Look. The fabled Kaiba Look, in which it was not quite a glare – as one usually has emotion behind a glare – and often spoke volumes, involving: 'Do as I say, immediately!'
Seto only chuckled, ruffling the youth's hair. This earned him a squeak, a smile, and a quick frown of disapproval.
"Hey, now!" He laughed again.
"All right!" He calmly turned back to his desk, only this time to replace the papers he'd been looking over, with the hand-made dinner.
With a happy smile the younger one bounded around the desk, until they stood facing the older. Cyan-eyes and tan hands, then preceded to search across the desk, with all the curiosity a child can harvest. Finally finding what they were looking for, small hands lifted a framed picture from beneath files and disks. Inside the image of a face peered back, smiling as brightly as the sun, eyes filled with laughter and joy.
"Is this mother?" The youth asked, puzzled.
The brunette looked up from his sandwich, still chewing as he eyed the small frame in the child's hands. He swallowed and chuckled again, nodding sagely.
"Of course. Why else would it be on my desk?" The youth thought for all of a second.
"Because you tend to collect more rubbish 'accidentally' then the local tip."
History was rewritten, and hell froze over, as Seto Kaiba burst into hysterics, while half choking on the sandwich he'd been eating. He was lucky he didn't fall off his chair, or require the Heimlich Manoeuvre before he was done.
The little one fought a grin, as they excused their tactlessness with: "What? It's true!"
"And you?" He retorted, finally catching his breath.
"Collectibles and artwork!"
"Mmm, Hmm. Pizza containers?"
"Where else am I supposed to store the fuzzy Pizza's?
"Fuzzy Pizza's?"
"Mould is the ultimate collectible, Y'know?!" He laughed again, shaking his head.
"My Angel…" The youth grinned, pleased to have amused the man before her.
"Bed now!" The child raced for the door.
"'Night." The little girl turned back to grin at him, dark Brown hair falling in her eyes.
"Night, night, Daddy!"
A/N: …What? Stop looking at me like that! I get bored! Bored = thinking. Thinking = Bad… from certain points of view…
And on a different note: I have come to the conclusion that, should Kaiba ever have a daughter, she would be called Angel because all Daughters are Angels to their fathers… and he's just not that creative with naming things… yeah…