The man had light hair but long sideburns and dark glasses. He wore a long violet coat, his muscles nearly bursting out of. Seto hesitated to unlock the door, until the man glanced at a watch on his wrist, and then over his shoulder toward a black car with tinted windows. A motorcycle was parked in the spot beside it.
Seto flipped the lock and pulled the door open halfway, not enough for the man to step inside.
"Are you Dartz's assistant? He mentioned he would be sending one."
The man nodded once, no-nonsense. He gave no introduction before thrusting a manilla envelope through the half-open door into Seto's hand.
Seto took the folder and opened the door enough to invite the man inside, but rather than enter he moved to the side with his back against the outside of the glass window of the shop. He reminded Seto of a security guard, and he realized that the man probably was. Even though there appeared to be no one for him to guard at the moment, Seto appreciated the diligence.
He let the door fall shut and carried the folder to the front counter, where he would be able to see if Dartz's assistant wanted to speak, or needed to leave. He opened the folder to a single sheet of paper on impressively elegant letterhead.
The paper was a contract, as Dartz had promised, but the copy had "Not an Official Document" stamped in large red letters across the signature lines. Seto scanned the draft for any amount of money, but it seemed that Dartz wasn't willing to reveal his numbers yet.
That was fine. Not only was Seto not set on accepting the first offer Dartz made, he wasn't set on accepting Dartz as the first buyer. But Roland had a point when he implied that the man could afford to fix the business's problems in ways that were unavailable to Seto, due to lack of capital.
Seto frowned as he began to read the proposal, which specified that Seto was to step down from ownership, but remain attached to the business for a contracted twelve months, in order to keep the Kaiba name involved with the shop, for "publicity purposes". The contract did not define what was meant by this.
Problems arose in Seto's mind immediately. Not only was the idea unappealing, but it also seemed impossible. What could he even do to contribute to the workload? He didn't know how to sew. He could file and organize and manage, but not sew.
No matter what Dartz had planned for him, there was simply nowhere for him to work. There was no office space even if there was office work for him to do as an employee, and if Dartz actually expected him to tailor, there were no free machines for him to work on, let alone learn on.
"Working under him, in this shop, for an entire year?" Seto scoffed.
While selling before he was ready to build his own income wouldn't work out without some major planning, working alongside Noa as an equal wasn't the least bit appealing and did not seem worth having a reliable income and time to prepare his own business.
He wondered what his brothers would say. Mokuba, almost certainly, would be eager for the deal to go through if it meant starting an endeavor that benefited them both. But how would he feel about the necessary delay of plans if Seto took on the employee role?
He suspected, however, that Noa just might cut him out of his non-existent will when he learned about the deal, if it panned out in the first place. Initially, Noa would either scream until his face turned blue, or stop speaking to him entirely. The latter, of course, would be preferred, but Seto rarely counted himself that lucky.
But the implications were favorable. Dartz had the kind of money to make the establishment what Seto could only hope to make it with years of effort and saving. And apparently, he had the interest to do something useful with that money, as well—an interest that Seto lacked.
He was still deep in contemplation about the agreement when the bulky man knocked on the door again. When he looked up from the paper, Dartz's assistant stood in front of the glass door. Seto rose and opened it.
"I have a few issues with this contract," Seto said, right off the bat.
The man seemed disinterested in discussing Seto's issues.
"You have been given time to review my employer's proposal. You may discuss any adjustments with him personally tomorrow at half past five."
The man held out his hand and waited as if he expected Seto to give him something. A tip? That didn't seem right.
"What are you waiting for?" Seto asked.
"The contract. He would like it returned to him."
Seto thought this was a little strange—it wasn't an official document anyway. But he didn't argue, and placed the folder back into the assistant's hand. He tucked it into a briefcase and walked away without a word.
He personally thought the man cold and a bit rude, although the fact didn't particularly bother him. Seto found he preferred the man's professionalism and curtness to the "coziness" and over-familiarity that had overtaken Kaiba's Coats in recent months.
He watched the man as he walked stoically to a motorcycle and strap the briefcase to a compartment behind the seat. He drove off, following the black car, before Seto could get back inside and away from the exhaust fumes. He locked the door again and began shutting down the shop.
"Seto?" Mokuba asked when Seto stepped in through the back door.
Seto put down his briefcase in the entryway and accepted Mokuba's hug.
"What is it?"
"I got your text earlier. Your warning about Miss Valentine. I don't know what you were talking about though. Today was a normal day."
"Even after that article came out?" Seto asked, leading the way to the living room where they both sat down on the sofa. "You said it had been posted everywhere."
For once, Noa wasn't taking up the whole living room, wasting the day on what was mainly Seto's laptop. There wasn't a sign of him, and Seto didn't spend more than a second thinking about him.
"I don't think any of my classmates saw it yet. Have you been able to get it taken down?"
"I don't think it's going to be that easy."
Mokuba's face fell. "Why not?"
"Because Miss Valentine herself sold the photograph to the blogger who wrote that article. If I get it taken down, she'll just sell it to somebody else. Even if someone managed to get to her phone and delete the photos she took, she probably has copies on her computer or in a backup service."
"Didn't you talk to the school about her conduct?"
"I have a feeling she isn't attached to her job. If I had to guess, she plans to leave it soon anyway."
"Good. She's hot, but not hot enough to have to put up with her bullying."
"Even if the school goes ahead and forces her to resign, the damage will still be done to you and to me. If getting her fired won't stop her, there's not much else I can do."
Mokuba let out a frustrated grunt and punched the seat of the sofa.
"Why did you have to almost sleep with her!"
"If you were older, and she was coming on to you, don't you think you might have done the same?"
Mokuba let out a groan and threw his head against the back of the sofa.
"Maybe," he bit out.
"At least I had the sense to back out with my dignity intact."
"So what does she want?"
"My assumption, based on the threats she gave me today, is that she wants to win the tournament we're going to."
Mokuba lifted his head from the backrest and stared at Seto.
"What?"
"Think about it. She never wanted you to go. In the beginning she threatened to deny your excused absence. She must have already been signed up by that point. Then she somehow figured out I'm participating."
"She might have heard me talking about it at school."
"That sounds likely."
"But how did you know she's a duelist? Did she say it?"
"I know I didn't tell you at the time that Miss Valentine was my companion for the…" he paused, searching for words, "platonic outing we had the other night, but she's the one who showed me the underground gaming club. It surprised me at the time, too."
"'Platonic' my a—"
"Watch it," Seto interrupted.
Mokuba scowled. "So she planned this whole thing from then? How sick. What is she even trying to accomplish?"
"If she's willing to lose her job over this, she must be confident that not only would she be capable of browbeating both of us out of competing against her, but also that she would take home first place against whoever remains. Although I'm not sure I would call her confident if she has to sink to such levels just to win at something."
"No kidding. She's going way over the top for all this. And does she really think she's better than Yugi and Atem?"
"She either must think so, or isn't familiar with them and their skill levels."
"If she wins then I guess she wouldn't need to work for a while. We're getting in the way of her retirement plans, then?"
"I guess so. But you know, after all the garbage she's thrown at our family this month, I would be more than willing to throw a wrench in her plans."
"So, you're going to fight her? We're going to fight her?"
"I'm not letting her desire to live without working get in the way of your dreams for your future. Your goals are more important to me than any threat she could make."
"But even if we win, won't she just find a new way to retaliate?"
"I can only see one way of us both getting out from under her thumb."
"What's that?"
"She won't have any power over you in a school where she had never taught. She can't have any power over me if I'm no longer the owner of a business where she would have an interest in being a client. How much would you fight me if I told you you need to change schools?"
"Isn't this like the talk we had about moving a few weeks ago? I'd be fine. I used to think she was the only one I would really miss, but at this point a new school would be a welcomed change. Like I said, most of my best friends are online."
"That's what I thought. And I'm planning to sell the business as soon as I am able to."
Seto didn't know how strongly he felt about selling to Dartz, but even if he found another buyer instead, he planned to sell sooner rather than later.
"Any new business I create wouldn't likely suit her interests. And even if I'm wrong, I would have the right not to serve her."
"So, we can at least get away from her influence…"
"Whether we win or lose the prize money, we'll get away, but if we win then we'll be even more set to cut her strings, and she'll have to be stuck teaching once she gets a new job somewhere else."
A sudden humming rose above the sound of their conversation, from the direction of Noa's room. Seto narrowed his eyes at Noa's door.
"Is he sewing?" Seto asked.
"Actually, yeah. He's been at it all afternoon, ever since I got home from school. Probably before."
"How? He just wrenched his ankle again yesterday."
"Don't know. But I heard him sewing—and swearing—quite a few days this week."
"I wonder if he's trying to practice using his other foot," Seto thought aloud.
"That sounds like it would be frustrating."
"Which might explain the profanity. But why? He should be resting. He still has a few weeks before I'll have to take him back to the doctor for his final checkup."
"I'm sure he's just bored, and probably tired of resting."
"Do you know if he's still taking his medication?"
"At night, I think. It helps him sleep. Hey, what's going to happen to him when we're gone?"
"He found someone to stop by and check on him, and probably bring him food."
"Someone?"
"He didn't say who. We didn't talk about it."
"I wonder who gave him the ride home yesterday, too. Do you know?"
"I was wondering that, too."
"Noa doesn't really, um, get out much. You would have known if it was a co-worker. Could it be a friend from high school?"
Seto shook his head. "He didn't make a lot of friends in high school. Not close friends, anyway. For that matter, neither did I. We skipped grades, remember? So our classmates were always older than us, and there was not as much common interest."
"Yeah, I remember. I always thought it was really cool that you two were so far ahead. But then, who did he meet with? Did you see what kind of car the person drove?"
"It was white. A little rusted. It could have been anything. Frankly, I was still seeing red when he got picked up, so I was just glad he was gone."
Mokuba nodded absently while staring at the wall that separated the living room from Noa's bedroom.
A crunch sounded and the humming stopped abruptly.
Mokuba faced Seto with knitted brows, until the humming was quickly replaced by a swish, and a thump against the wall. Noa's voice projected clearly through the wall, shouting a whole string of frustrated words.
Seto continued staring at the wall. After a few seconds the room fell silent.
"He must have broken a needle when he couldn't stop his foot on time, and then… I think he threw the whole damn project against the wall."
"I don't know, that was a pretty loud noise."
"Maybe he accidentally threw his shears with it? It's the only thing I can think of."
Mokuba's face brightened into a smirk as he seemed to be imagining the scene with Noa's characteristically over-the-top reactions.
Seto did the same. Imagining the frustrated look on Noa's face as he whipped the heap of fabric across his room forced Seto to break out into laughter. But when Mokuba followed until both brothers were roaring with laughter, Seto had to hush him quickly and stifle his own laughter until they were only snickering, before Noa could have a chance to hear them.
