This somewhat short installment was inspired by "Axe Cop," a webcomic by Ethan Nicolle and his brother Malachai; the website for this rather unique project immediately clarifies that Ethan, the artist, is a 29-year-old man; the writer, Malachai, is a 5-year-old boy.

It kind of bothers me that this was even mentioned. The artist in me, the one who believes in art for its own sake, says that Ethan Nicolle never should have sold his comic on the idea that it was written by a small child. I would have liked him to simply put it out, and let people make of it what they would.

I'm not criticizing the decision; I understand why he told us his brother's age, and I applaud him for the concept behind this comic. It's unquestioningly awesome, and anyone who says otherwise hates kittens. I'm just saying.

Still, like any other story about brothers, it made me think of how Seto would handle a situation like this, and it turned out kind of…different.

But enough of my rambling. I'll let him explain.

Most people, caught in an embarrassing situation, attempt to explain away their discomfort. They acknowledge the joke, try to laugh along, and pretend it doesn't bother them.

Most people in the situation where the Kaiba brothers currently found themselves would have blushed, or looked sheepish, or otherwise showed some level of discomfort. They sat together in an empty schoolroom at Westridge Community College, across a table from a student. The student had a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other.

"…Okay, so I just have a few more questions, and we'll be done."

Mokuba, who had been straining for the past twenty minutes or so to stay still—he was excitable, and prone to fidgeting—licked his lips. Beneath the table, Seto patted his leg in quiet reassurance.

"Thank you again for doing this, by the way," the student added quickly.

Seto nodded graciously.

"No problem," Mokuba said, smoothly and without any indication that he was uncomfortable; this from a boy who hated being interviewed.

"So…your first project." The student said this in a conspiratorial tone of voice, as though he were sharing a private joke with the faces of the Kaiba Corporation. Most people would have smirked, or chuckled, or waved a dismissive hand. Neither Kaiba moved. "The Adventures of Laser-Dragon. Ah…how do I put this…? It's such a departure from your other games, you know."

Most people would have started explaining. Were he most people, Seto would have said, "It was an idea my brother came up with when we were kids. My favorite Magic & Wizards monster, you know. The Blue-Eyes White Dragon. Well, Mokuba always called it a laser-dragon. And he said that would make an awesome game. I promised him that I'd make it for him."

It would have been a heartwarming tale of brotherly love; Mokuba would have blushed, and said he'd been five years old at the time, and didn't really know what he was doing. He knew better now. He was working with one of their teams on another project, in fact. A real project.

Not like the fake laser-dragon project. The joke game, made only because Seto was more sentimental than he liked to admit.

"What was the driving force behind that game?" the student asked, raising an eyebrow. "What inspired you to make it?"

Seto would have shared a private smirk and a wink with his brother, and everyone would have a good laugh and understand that The Adventures of Laser-Dragon was little more than an April Fool's prank that happened to have been published because Seto was a billionaire and could afford to sink money into pretty much anything he wanted.

Clearly, that was what the smirking, half-chuckling college student expected him to say.

He expected Seto to pawn off the project on his brother, as though to say he would never have come up with such a ridiculous idea. He expected justification, some explanation as to why this drivel existed.

Seto simply said, in the same quiet voice he'd been using all throughout the interview, "We wanted to show that we were serious about changing the Kaiba Corporation's reputation. We wanted everyone to understand what it was we were setting out to do: entertain."

"So you just…came up with the most ridiculous premise you could think of? I mean, a dragon with a laser on its forehead, riding around on a jet-powered unicycle? Who comes up with that stuff?"

Seto's expression was free from any kind of chagrin or embarrassment whatsoever—he was not going to grovel and beg to justify the product his company had brought into the world. He did not feel the need to. He simply said,

"We do."

I think he's made his point. What do you think?

Now go read "Axe Cop."

Do it for the kittens.

…What, you're still here?