Working on this story has taken on a whole different light after starting "Blue Eyes, Violet Eyes." I suppose I would say that there's a certain depth to the world I'm cultivating here. But then, maybe that's just authorial hubris.

In any case, I do my best to juggle these two projects; while on the one hand, I try to keep them intertwined with each other and relevant to each other, I also try to make sure that those of you who only read one or the other are not left in the dark.

Nonetheless, I suggest reading both. Not just because I'm rather proud of what BEVE has become, but because it puts an extra layer onto the project. The cake has frosting now, I suppose you could say.

In any case, let's see what's going on at school today, shall we?

1.

"Someone's in a better mood today."

Mokuba smiled at Rebecca. "Guess so."

The girl genius looked expectant. "Well, don't just leave it there. What happened? Birthday party? Early Christmas present? Did you win an award? What?" She crossed her arms again and looked half-ready to pout. Suddenly, she looked scared. "You didn't look up any fanfiction, did you? Oh, God, you didn't like it, did you?"

Mokuba laughed, the sound coming abruptly and loudly, and the other students turned to look at him. The young Kaiba shook his head, his smile a full grin now, and Rebecca looked relieved. "No, I didn't try to find any of that," he said, laughter still bubbling in his throat. "I mentioned it to Niisama. He knows already, and he says there's nothing to really do about it. He said trying to stop it would only encourage them."

Rebecca frowned. "Is your brother turning into a pacifist or something? The Kaiba I met would have started a crusade."

"No," Mokuba said, "he just stopped listening to other people talk about him. When he first took over Kaiba-Corp, he tried to argue. He'd go on talk shows and bite peoples' heads off. He says he realized that it never actually solved anything, so he decided he'd just let them say whatever they wanted, and not listen. He wants me to do that, too."

"Smart, I guess. I tried to yell at some of the people who wrote about me at first. Pretty soon, I just started going along with it. I leave comments like, 'Mister Wheeler is nice, but I don't like blonds very much.'" Mokuba looked sick to his stomach. "I guess it's something about the whole dueling thing. You know. We're all part of this special circle, and I guess we all…well…anyway, yeah. It's a lot more fun to watch people sputter all over themselves to apologize than it is to watch them get defensive. So I just play along. It embarrasses them."

"Oh," Mokuba said suddenly. "Dueling. That reminds me."

The black-haired boy grabbed his backpack and dug through it for a moment, coming out with a slim, white plastic box. He looked up. "Do you play videogames at all?" he asked.

"Sometimes," Rebecca said. "Usually when I'm traveling. I like handhelds."

"Oh, good. Perfect." Mokuba handed the box to her. "This is a prototype version of Kaiba-Corp's new project. Niisama wanted me to give you this copy to test it. He wants to know what you think, since you're a tournament duelist. He says he doesn't trust Yugi."

Rebecca grinned as she opened the box. "Ooh…a DS game. Very nice. I just bought one of those. Well, Grandpa did. Well, no, it was with tournament winnings, so I guess I did buy it. Anyway, this is a videogame version of Magic & Wizards, then?" Mokuba nodded. "Hmmm…Call of the Millennium. I've been wondering when somebody would do this. Thank you. Does he want, like, a written review or something? Is this a loan?"

Mokuba shrugged. "I don't think so. He just told me to give it to you. I got the first copy. One of the pluses of being vice-president, I think. He says he decided to trust you with the second because…um…oh. He said out of all the duelists he's met, you're the only one who never really pissed him off. That's a pretty big compliment, actually."

Rebecca looked surprised. She looked at the game in her hand. "He said that?"

"He said you were one of the smartest, too. He said he liked your Shadow Ghoul strategy." Mokuba lowered his voice in a surprisingly accurate mimicry of his brother's, and said, "'Mutou can spout all he wants about the cards having hearts, but if he really believed that, he wouldn't send them to their deaths at all.'"

Rebecca laughed heartily. "That's awesome. You're good at that. Well, thank your brother for me. That was nice of him. Nicer than I would have thought possible, really. Did you put him up to this?" Her smile widened.

"I thought about asking him to, you know, let me give some to my friends," Mokuba admitted, "but I didn't think he'd do it, either." At this, Rebecca seemed pleased. "He does want you to tell him what to change, though, in exchange, you know. I don't know if he's looking for a written report or not, but watch for things you don't like, especially. He wants to know how to improve his game, so he isn't interested in compliments."

"That sounds like Kaiba. I'll do that."

"Thanks," Mokuba said.

The bell rang for first period, and they both stood up. Rebecca slipped the game into her pack and inclined her head. "See you later, Mokuba. Thanks again."

"Bye."

2.

Connor Brinkley wasn't at his desk in Miss Lorwell's class.

All of a sudden, Mokuba remembered that all wasn't perfect in his life right now. He dared a glance at his teacher; she was eyeing the empty desk with a look of concern. She crossed her arms as she waited for the period to begin. For a moment, she looked at Mokuba.

She thinks I did something to him, Mokuba thought, and wanted to be insulted. But somehow, he couldn't. He just felt embarrassed all over again. He'd wanted to help, but had that even mattered? What if Connor was really hurt, now? What if those boys he'd seen in the hall were…? Well.

They hadn't seemed like the nice, forgiving type.

Mokuba's excitement over asking Miss Lorwell about Anthem was suddenly dashed. He took the small book out of his pack, but simply stared at it. His eyes flickered up to the young woman again, but she'd turned her gaze away to watch the rest of the class. She didn't look very upset, but then, Seto never did, either. It was an underlying chill to her demeanor, and even though Mokuba could hear his brother in his head, saying, You have nothing to be ashamed of, he couldn't help it.

Class went by normally. His respect for his literature teacher rose another notch when she didn't even give the faintest hint of anything but a positively buoyant mood as she began her lecture. She asked Mokuba a question from the textbook, and she smiled when he gave the correct answer, nodding and saying, "Very good," in a voice that wasn't even slightly insincere.

When the bell rang, he knew she was going to ask him to come to her desk. He didn't even wait for her to say it. He picked up his bag, took his brother's book, and walked over to her. He fidgeted as she looked at him, her elbows propped up on the surface. She said, "Have you spoken to Mister Brinkley about the apparent issue between you two?"

Mokuba bit his lip. "…Kinda."

"Kind of?" Miss Lorwell echoed, and the black-haired boy thought distantly that this must be what a mother sounds like when one of her children gets into trouble. It was no wonder that she'd become a teacher. She'd been made for it.

"I…I asked if I could…do anything to…help," Mokuba lied, thinking knowing Seto would be disappointed—even angry—but unable to stop himself. He cleared his throat. "I think there are some older kids, I don't know who they are, that are picking on him." He shrugged lamely.

Miss Lorwell leaned back in her chair. "Do you know these older kids?"

"No. I've never seen them before."

"Have you spoken to them?"

"I only saw them once. They left before I could say anything. But…Connor looked like he was scared of them. I don't know who they are. They're older than m—than I am, so I don't have any classes with them. I looked."

Miss Lorwell frowned. "I see. Well, I think you might want to speak to him again, next time you see him. If you cannot avoid it, ask him directly what's going on with these kids. I'll check into it, myself." She noticed the book in Mokuba's hand. "Is that the book you've chosen for your report?" she asked, and Mokuba found himself immensely relieved that she had changed the subject, instead of having to do it himself.

He lifted the small book and looked at it. "Niisama said I should ask you if this would work. He said you might not accept it." He handed it to Miss Lorwell. "He said some people call it…prose poetry, I think."

Miss Lorwell looked at the volume in her hand for a long time, considering. "You say…someone gave this to you?"

"Niisama did," Mokuba said. "My brother."

"Oh!" Miss Lorwell looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize…is that a nickname, then? What did you say? Niisama?"

Mokuba nodded. "It's Japanese."

"Ah. Okay, then. So your brother recommended this to you. An interesting choice. But if what I've heard of Seto Kaiba is true, then I guess it's not very surprising. I'd peg him as an objectivist, I think."

"A what?"

Miss Lorwell chuckled. "Ask him. Like I said, if the stories are true about your brother's personality, then I think it will sound familiar. Rand's other works are a bit more specific about it. Clearer. But this…this should give you an idea. I'll allow it, but you may find writing a report on this novel a bit difficult. Just a fair warning."

"You've read it?" Mokuba asked.

"I did, in college. A friend gave it to me on the fourth of July. Thought it was funny. It was, in a way, I guess." She handed the book back. "Anyway, go ahead. If you have the patience for it, you might find yourself in for a surprise. There's a lot of controversy surrounding this author's work, but…to those that I think she intended her audience to be, it's particularly powerful."

Mokuba grinned. "She's one of Niisama's favorite writers."

"Small surprise, that."

"People always say that. What do you mean?"

"It's hard to explain," Miss Lorwell said, "but I think you'll understand when you read it. Let's just say that if Miss Rand ever crossed paths with your brother, they probably would have…gotten along rather well."

Mokuba frowned thoughtfully. "Hmmm…"

"You should go out and eat lunch before you run out of time," Miss Lorwell said. "Good luck, with the book and Mister Brinkley. I'd like to see this issue resolved as quickly as possible."

Mokuba nodded. "Me, too. Thanks, Miss Lorwell."

"You're quite welcome. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you."

3.

"Seto-sama!"

Seto rolled his eyes as he approached, but for once, he didn't look irritated. "I am quite sure I've mentioned before that such formality is unnecessary. You needn't—"

She wasn't listening. She was grinning like a girl of twelve, shaking his hand and leading him forward. It never failed to surprise him to think back on how he remembered this woman, her kind but sorrowful face, her convicted but battered will. To look at her now, bright and happy and strong; and to hear her say that it was all because of him…

It wasn't often that Seto Kaiba felt gratitude when confronted with a "fan," but a part of him couldn't help but remember that, of the few adults in his youth, this was one he had honestly liked. Kristine Hathaway had been small, naïve, even mousy when he'd first met her; she was still small, but that was all he could say.

"I'm so pleased to see you come to visit!" said Kristine, still grinning. "Things have been going wonderfully since you took over! We still get calls, and even a few emails and letters from Kelvin, but nothing I think we need to be concerned over. He always was a sore loser, and I think being fired by you, of all people…well…" she laughed.

Seto smirked. He looked around at the Domino Children's Home, the place where he had spent such a small but pivotal period of his life. Some of the children he saw had the sullen look he remembered on so many of his peers from that time, but vastly more of them looked happy. Running, playing, laughing. Yes, he could see that the establishment was much more capably handled now that he'd…purged it of certain individuals.

He thought of Gregory Kelvin and grimaced.

"We received a donation recently," Kristine said, smiling. "From someone named Irena Eubank? I believe Dan said it was over two thousand dollars! Something to do with a fan club?"

Seto raised an eyebrow. "Irena Eubank and Katherine McKinley run the official 'Kaiba fan clubs,' and they've said that they will donate partial proceeds from all sales of merchandise, and donations, to this establishment. I see they have held to that promise."

"How sweet! You and Mo-chan have fan clubs?"

"Don't remind me," Seto muttered, but couldn't help but look pleased.

"McKinley," Katherine murmured. "That sounds familiar. Isn't he the detective who came out here to give a presentation a few months ago?"

"Katherine is his daughter," Seto said.

"The kids loved him. He's very funny."

"Mm."

He wasn't paying attention anymore.

A small boy was playing with a model helicopter. Another boy and girl, who looked like twins, were sitting with him. As Seto watched, an older boy sauntered over and snatched the toy away. A flash of memory passed over Seto's vision, and his smirk turned dark.

"Good to see the hierarchy remains intact…" he hissed under his breath. Kristine saw where his eyes were locked and flinched. The younger boy wasn't crying, but was clearly upset. He jumped to his feet. The twins, looking angry as opposed to sad, glared at the older boy's back as he laughed. Seto shifted his weight, and the boy—nine or ten, by the look of him—nearly bumped straight into him.

Seto did not move.

"Speaking of donations, and funding in general," Seto murmured, not looking at the boy but clearly aware of his presence. "One reason I came to you today was to ask your opinion on whether the children might benefit, and deserve, new gym equipment." Kristine couldn't quite keep the smirk from her face as the boy's eyes, and mouth, opened wide.

"Gym equipment, Seto-sama?" she asked. The boy flinched violently at the sound of the name.

"Well," Seto said, still keeping his eyes straight ahead; the younger boy and the twins were staring at him, "I had put thought to the idea of, say, a basketball court. Perhaps a baseball diamond? Balls, bicycles, rollerblades, perhaps even weights for the older ones."

"Deserve?" Kristine asked, now looking positively snakelike as the boy was all but drooling.

"I would hate to think that I am coddling these children by offering to buy this equipment," Seto said offhandedly. "If they have not been behaving themselves…if they have not been learning proper etiquette from you and the rest of the staff…if they are bullying and stealing from each other, or…"

Seto finally let his gaze fall downward to the boy standing just in front of him, holding the helicopter in both hands and looking as worshipful as if Seto were a tall, lanky Santa Claus. Seto said nothing, but his eyes flared, and the boy suddenly snapped his eyes downward. Looking at the toy like he didn't even know it had been there, he whirled and bolted over to the toy's owner and dropped it into his lap.

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry! I won't do it again, I swear!"

Seto rolled his eyes. "…It's a start."

Kristine chuckled. "He's having trouble adjusting," she said. "He needs boundaries. He needs guidance. You understand. There's still hope for him, though. He does honestly seem to want to play with the others, sometimes." She smiled. "Not like David. You remember David. He's…"

"Incarcerated," Seto muttered.

"Yes."

The young CEO sighed exasperatedly. "So Irena sent you a donation."

"Oh, yes. She dropped it off personally." Kristine Hathaway was one of the few people used to Seto's tendency to change the subject, to deflect, when he was uncomfortable with a given conversation. She didn't even quirk an eyebrow. "She's very excitable. She stayed with us for a while. She and Jennie started a game of dodgeball in the playground that lasted at least two hours. They even got Dan to participate."

Seto's expression lost some of its bitterness. "That sounds like her. The few times she has met with Mokuba, she wants to join in on whatever activity he happens to be engaged in. It doesn't matter to her if she knows the rules or not."

"No wonder she and Jennie got along."

"Indeed. Lorwell is performing well."

It wasn't a question, but almost. Kristine nodded. "Oh, Jennie was born for this place. The children love her. Even the more sullen ones, like Yonick there, can't help but smile around her. I think maybe even you would have liked her."

Seto tried to keep himself from flinching.

"And do you think this donation will be sufficient? Or shall we work something out?" Seto raised an eyebrow. "One of the most sorely lacking resources this place had when Kelvin was…" he cleared his throat, "…running it, were recreation and exercise. Of course, there is the park. But insofar as exercise is concerned…"

Kristine nodded. "That sounds like a fine idea, Seto-sama," she said, "and I assure you that aside from a…couple upstarts, they've been in exceedingly high spirits since the renovation took place. Someone is finally taking an interest in their welfare while they live here."

Seto's lips curved slightly, and he nodded. "Indeed. Well, look into it. I'll have Roland send you an idea of just what I was planning, and we'll go from there."

They passed the three children, still staring.

"Jamie," Seto said, nodding to the youngest. "Margaret, Matthew," he said to the twins.

Three identical grins split their faces.

"Thank you!" Jamie cried.

Margaret bowed. "Arigatou-gozaimasu."

"Very good!" Kristine said. She smiled. "You've been practicing pronunciation. Very nice."

"Do itashimashite," Seto replied, and Margaret stared.

"He said, 'you're welcome,'" Kristine said.

"Oh!" She bowed again.

Seto inclined his head. He chuckled as Matthew gave a slight, dazed little wave.

"How is Mo-chan doing?" Kristine asked as they began to walk along the path through the courtyard, where the other children were enjoying the unseasonably cool weather. "I haven't seen him for some time. I did see the speech he gave a few months ago. Turning into quite the little showman, isn't he?"

Seto's smirk returned, but he didn't look quite as relaxed as he might have. He said, "Mokuba's doing well enough. He is still…recovering."

Kristine frowned. "Oh. Oh, God. I'm sorry. I…I forgot about…"

Seto shook his head. "No, don't apologize. It's…" He was about to say "it's nothing," but stopped himself. "It will…pass." He drew in a breath. "I think that I am likely to dwell on this event longer than he will." He couldn't quite pinpoint why he was explaining himself, but all the same, he didn't find it as abhorrent as he might have thought.

"Well," Kristine said in an attempt to placate, "Mo-chan did tell me once that as long as you were with him, everything and everywhere was fun. He's a little angel. You've done well with him, Seto-sama. You know that, don't you?"

Seto shrugged again.

"You know, you really should try to accept a compliment once in a while."

No response.

Seto adjusted his jacket and continued walking in silence.

4.

The look on Rebecca Hawkins's face as she stepped into the Turtle Game Shop was nothing short of predatory. As Mokuba followed her inside what was fast becoming his second home (not that he'd ever say such a thing out loud), he saw a mischievous glint in her eyes, magnified by the lenses of her glasses, that he remembered seeing once before.

When she'd told him about…that.

"Rebecca?" the black-haired boy began, curious and a little nervous, but Rebecca held up one index finger, indicating that he should wait. Mokuba followed the line of her gaze and saw that she was watching the doorway on the far corner of the shop, to the right of the counter.

"Be there in a minute!" came Yugi's voice from beyond that door.

Rebecca's lips curved in a grin that made her companion shiver.

She had stopped Mokuba after school that day (running to catch up to him as he'd begun to step into Seto's car), and asked him where he bought his cards for Magic & Wizards. "I want to build a new deck for this game you lent me," she'd said, "and I saw this code entrance option here, to add cards based on their serial numbers. So…"

Mokuba had looked to his brother, who was watching Rebecca with an unreadable mixture of expressions on his face. "Niisama, can you take us to Yugi's? For a while? I don't have much homework. I'll finish as soon as I get home."

Watching Seto's eyes was like watching a machine process a constant influx of data. The common phrase had it that the eyes were the window to the soul; Mokuba thought of his brother's eyes as the computer monitor onto which he so often set them. It was a much more accurate description.

Rebecca noticed that she was being watched, and blinked. She inclined her head. "A pleasure, Mister Kaiba," she said quickly. "Ah…thank you for the game. I appreciate it. Sir."

At this last, Seto actually chuckled. "Let's go, then," he said, and gestured. "I'm holding you to that offer, Mokuba. Understood?"

"Yes, Niisama."

"I'll be picking you up at five. Miss Hawkins, you and your grandfather still live in Lakeshore Court?" Rebecca nodded, clearly surprised. Seto raised an eyebrow and smirked. "It was considered necessary to look up your address to extend the invitation to KC Grand Prix."

The girl genius blinked, then grinned, embarrassed. "Oh. Right. Of course. Yes, we do, sir."

Seto nodded. "Fine. I'll have Copeland drive you home, then, if you cannot procure a ride from Mutou or your grandfather."

And so, they had driven to the shop. Seto nodded when Mokuba waved goodbye, and Rebecca watched him speed off, saying, "Nice car," before turning to the entrance and stepping inside. No one had greeted them; Mokuba knew why, now. Yugi was clearly busy with something…some things.

Indeed, Yugi came into the front room carrying a tall stack of manga, graphic novels and art books that obscured his vision; he often did this, but Mokuba thought—considering the sadistic glee rising in Rebecca's eyes as she saw him—that he might stop rather soon.

Tristan was behind him, and he saw Rebecca before Yugi did. He was about to greet them when Rebecca held a finger to her lips. The brunette looked confused, but shrugged and stayed silent. The blonde prodigy drew in a deep breath, and…

"Daaaarliiiiiiing!"

5.

Did she think of herself as Seto Kaiba's mother?

Of course not. She'd heard a few stories about the woman, and she knew without thinking that anyone who even dared think of comparing themselves to Yagami Yuki would immediately—and irrevocably—find themselves on the wrong side of the Kaiba family. She most certainly did not want to do that.

Still, even though she hadn't been in a position to adopt the Yagami boys when they'd lived under her care, Kristine Hathaway had begun to think of herself, subconsciously at the least, as a surrogate mother. She was sure that Daniel Elliot had tried in his own way to take up the role of their father, too.

So while it was certainly true that she wasn't their mother, she still sometimes felt like she was, and so Kristine was nothing if not mechanical when Pegasus Crawford paid a visit to the Domino Children's Home, not two hours after Seto had left.

The silver-headed prima donna preferred a much flashier display of wealth than his former business rival; he dressed in bright, primary colors, with ruffed shirts and glittering cufflinks; he was an eccentric man, he always had been, and he likely always would be. Kristine watched him approach, flanked by two guards, and found herself irritated that he looked so pleasant. He was a handsome man, of that there was no denying, and he certainly knew how to accentuate his looks. He carried himself well.

She hated it.

Unable to forget that this man had once kidnapped a seven-year-old boy and tried to pass it off as a misunderstanding, Kristine thought his hand felt slimy when she shook it. She didn't bother to hide her disdain as she nodded her head the slightest bit. "Mister Crawford," she said softly.

"Miss Hathaway," Pegasus replied graciously, bowing his head, letting his curtain of shining hair fall over his features. When he stood straight again, half of that curtain still covered his face. His one visible eye was a bright, vibrant, rich brown that sparkled with mirth. "It is an honor to meet you," he said.

"I'm sure," Kristine said. One of the guards bristled at what was clearly perceived to be an insult, but Pegasus didn't seem to notice. She said, "To what might I attribute this…honor, Mister Crawford? You'll forgive me if I don't understand why you would visit this place, of all places, after spending so much time out of the limelight."

Pegasus smiled, and it was a charming smile. A boyish smile.

"Ah, well," he said offhandedly, "I must admit to you, Miss Hathaway, that I did not necessarily think of where I wished to go today. It was a bit of a whim, you see. But I've heard stories that Kaiba-boy—" Kristine flinched violently, "—excuse me, has recently renovated this establishment, and I must further admit that I was curious to see what he has done to improve the lives of our city's orphans. Far too often, we forget about them. It is a sad thing."

"But you would not forget the orphans, of course," Kristine said, clenching her teeth, thinking, because you prefer to torment them. "How charming that a man of such means as yourself would express an interest in the less fortunate."

Pegasus bowed his head again, but Kristine had a feeling that he knew she hadn't been complimenting him. She had always thought that Pegasus Crawford had risen to his position because he was exceptionally gifted at reading people. If his bodyguards had caught on to the fact that she was hardly pleased to see him—as was evident by the offended looks on their faces and the stiffness of their bodies—then Pegasus himself surely knew.

And Pegasus surely knew why.

"Seto-sama has given these children new hope," Kristine said sharply. "The old building was ripped down after the new one was built, and the ground used for it was converted into a theme park, to which the children will always have free admission. He's given them what most people never think to: a life worth living. Do you know how often orphans like the residents here are simply tossed aside because they're considered 'problem children?' Because they aren't worth the trouble of raising?"

Pegasus looked honestly sad. "Children are defined by their parents. We, as children, were defined by ours. You might say that we are accessories, if you wanted to be cynical about it. Like a pair of earrings without an owner, the children here are simply allowed to rust. Or…they were. Seto-sama has made a fine choice, placing you in charge, I think."

"Thank you," Kristine said, in a tone that said she wasn't the least bit thankful. She thought this must be what Seto Kaiba felt when people complimented him; and for the first time, she thought she really understood why he despised it.

Pegasus watched Jamie and the twins—Margaret and Matthew—running and laughing. He smiled. "Yes, yes. A fine choice. Ah…Miss Hathaway? Would it be entirely out the question if I…gave an announcement to the children?" He smiled that disarming smile again. "In an attempt to…reestablish my reputation, I thought perhaps I might hold a little contest, you see. And as Magic & Wizards has always been a children's pursuit, for the most part, I thought I would announce this contest first…right here. No cameras, no television coverage, just…here."

Pegasus held out his thin, almost girlish hands and waited.

Kristine couldn't quite stop the sneer from her face, but she said, "Of course. I'm sure the children would like to hear about this. Interest in Magic & Wizards has gained new heights here, ever since Seto-sama's generosity made itself known. If you will allow me to alert the staff, we will bring them to the auditorium. Please, wait here. I will send someone to escort you?"

Pegasus bowed. "Thank you very much, Miss Hathaway."

She inclined her head. "You're quite welcome, Mister Crawford."

6.

"Pegasus-sama, you shouldn't allow people to talk to you in such a blatantly rude fa—"

"That's quite enough, Patrick," Pegasus Crawford interrupted, holding up a hand. "She runs an orphanage. She knows them both personally. She has every reason to despise me, and if you want to know the truth of the matter, I'm quite surprised she did not order me out."

"Them, Pegasus-sama? Who?"

"Don't be thick," Pegasus admonished lightly. "You know precisely who. Kaiba-boy and his brother are orphans, you know, and they did live here for a time. Miss Hathaway was not at the helm, of course, but…she knew them well."

The man called Patrick scoffed. "Kaiba. Do you walk on eggshells around him, too,now? Come now, Pegasus-sama, you're far above his level."

"That's very nice of you," Pegasus said, "and naively cute. But I'm afraid you are quite mistaken. Kaiba Gozaburo earned his reputation, and it was not the faintest bit exaggerated, I assure you. I met with him once. Once was…enough."

"Seto Kaiba isn't his father, Pegasus-sama."

"No, he isn't," Pegasus agreed. "And I once made the mistake of thinking that was a mark in my favor. You both should know that anyone, especially a young man like Kaiba-boy, is much, much more dangerous when he has something, or someone, to protect."

"You fought him once!" Patrick cried indignantly. "You fought him and won! You shouldn't lick his boots like the rest of these sheep! You're better than that!"

Pegasus sighed.

He lifted a hand, and drew back the hair covering the left side of his face. His guards both flinched. Where there had once been a shining eye made of solid gold, there was now only an empty socket.

"Perhaps at one time. Not anymore."

END.