I had so much fun working on this story --- and I personally thank every single reviewer who has, at one point, reviewed this story. Thank you all so very much!

And I hope this Epilogue isn't such a big disapointment. It ties up a few loose ends that needed to be tied. So Enjoy In the Company of Wealth for the final time!

Enjoy!

Jubilation.
An Epilogue

Donning a new dark red trench coat with metal strips at the shoulders and around the sleeves, Seto looked to be going into war. His trusty flip-phone secured itself to his waist in a leather holster while his back pocket held a wallet with his ID card, a few credit cards, and some ten dollar bills. And, just to be cautious, in his silver briefcase, full of papers and work statistics to look over in the next few nights, was another phone just incase something happened to his favorite.

Seto stepped casually in front of his bedroom mirror and adjusted his right cuff so it fit securely over the white glove-brace. He had taken to wearing gloves these days, to hide the fact that a silvery bracelet wove all the way down to his fingertips, usually preferring his black leather gloves rather then white. White was only for funerals or . . . for this occasion where black really wasn't suited.

The mirror held no surprise to anyone except him, how much he had changed over the past few weeks of being home. For one, he had become overly protective, sharpening his already-sharp senses. His eyes though, had become less accustom to glares, widening slightly from their pin-point wickedness to more open, beautiful icy pools in his eyes. Nothing exterior showed anyone of his changes, except the gloves, eyes which only seemed to be noticed by those who knew him extremely well, and his hair which he had let grow from its already-was shaggy state from the month or so in the hospital. Mokuba now kidded that he could make pigtails out of the long locks. That would just be mortifying.

The young billionaire swiped a few tresses of hair from his face and made sure everything was in check. Mokuba was coming with him, the guards were set to keep watch of the perimeter, and the security cameras were all working. Nothing would sneak past his guard . . . except for ethereal beings, by who, Seto hoped, wouldn't want any more to do with him.

Mokuba knocked and entered the room quickly, clad in a red turtleneck (which seemed to engulf his neck and most of his face) and blue jeans (the holey ones that got on Seto's last nerve). "Seto, are you ready yet?"

"Almost," the elder replied, taking one last look in the mirror.

"C'mon, it's not like there will be paparazzi there or anything. It's just a party!" Mokuba whined. "Do you have to take so long?"

"Patience is a virtue," Seto quiet sung, uncharacteristic of himself. Mokuba stifled a laugh and grabbed him by the hand. "Hold on! Just one more --"

Mokuba dragged him out of the room and through the hallway in a steady run. "No time! I don't wanna be late!"

Seto snorted.

"Do you? I hope not --- oh, are you prolonging so you won't have to go?" Mokuba asked, a bit of anger in his voice. "It's just Yugi's, you know."

The elder sighed and let his brother drag him to the garage and into the BMW, Seto's favorite car. "I know it's Yugi's. That's what worries me. I'm actually going to that shrimp's party." He jammed the keys he took from his pocket into the ignition and quickly cranked it up. The motor hummed softly. "I actually think that he's been messing with my head. I think his . . . his happiness is contagious."

"Well when I see you laughing erratically, then I'll know it is. If I see you begging for a bone, I know that Joey's the one contagious. Or if I see you gobbling on about friendship, then I'll take you to a mental institution. But right now you're you, Seto, and no one different. And last I've recalled, Seto Kaiba doesn't miss an appointment --- even if it's a party." Mokuba finished smartly and buckled himself in.

Seto gave his little brother a quirky glance before sighing heavily and driving from the garage. He rolled his brother's words around for a while before he said, as they turned out into the main road, "You're becoming just like me."

"I hope so," Mokuba smiled. "No one can handle things better then my brother."

"Parties are a different matter."

The kid gave that a thought. "That's true."

---

The Game Shop loomed across the street like a dreaded haunted house. Seto could just see the happy-go-lucky colors swarming around it . . . so much it made his eye twitch. Maybe he should take some Tylenol before he went in? A headache would surely come as soon as he stepped into the smelling-of-new-paper-and-old-dust Game Shop. But the car was already locked and the keys were already in his briefcase. The invite said to be there by 5:00PM. It was 4:59PM right now, so he really didn't have time unless he wanted to be late.

Anyone who knew Seto knew that he was very punctual, no matter the circumstance, and no matter how laid-back or stiff he might be. He was always on time. This was no different. Or is it?

Seto took a quick glance to his brother, who looked both ways down the road before rushing across the street. Seto was sure to follow as quickly and as regally as he could, just waiting for Malsworth's limo to come careening by. He winced inwardly. Bad dejavu. On the other side, Tristan's motorbike sat parked beside the game shop, tire marks squealed all over the sidewalk where apparent brakeage happened too quickly. He was mildly surprised that there wasn't a gaping hole in the living room of the house/shop.

Mokuba quickly went into the Game Shop, followed sulkily by Seto. The shop area was dark, the lights were turned off save two nightlights on both sides of the cash register. He gazed to the cash register with mild distaste, wondering if Solomon Motou had forgiven him yet for the cruel treatment before Seto's and Yugi's first duel.

Seto had to laugh inwardly at that. Just think, if I had never challenged Yugi to a game and tore up his grandpa's card, I probably would have never been in these situations in the first place. He watched as Mokuba wandered into the housing of the shop and thought back to before he was 'Mind Crushed', before he became confused about himself and sank into introspection, before he even acknowledged Mokuba as a brother and only a pawn. A pawn for his games. The feeling of dread and anguish rolled in his stomach at the very thought of his own childish actions. If I had never done all those things, became involved with these 'hocus-pocus mind tricks', then Mokuba would still be only a servant to me. I wouldn't have even acknowledged him as my brother. He gave a frown. And I wouldn't be here now.

Turning towards the entrance to the house, he took a long, deserving breath and stepped through the doorway. All things happen for a reason then.

A bombardment of kazoos and party paper stormed him rabidly as he stood in mute, terrible shock. Then a party hat was strapped around his head by Joey, who quickly ran away to laugh and hide at the same time. Silly string hung from Seto's ears and chin even, covering his trench coat in neon pink, orange, blue, and purple. Mokuba burst out laughing. Seto stood stock-still, an eye twitching with annoyance.

Everyone was laughing at him.

Slowly, he took the hat off and gathered the party paper from his shoulders and coat, some even fell into his pockets. The noise quickly migrated to silence as the partiers froze and waited for the explosion. Seto set the hat down on the end table and took a deep breath, motioning for Joey to come over to him. Joey did and gulped. Seto secretly reached behind him as his eyes narrowed.

Seto scowled at Wheeler. "Brown is not your hair color."

The new brunette frowned. "Wha---"

Before Joey could even finish his sentence, Seto swirled around, bringing the cake that was on the table into the mutt's face as quickly as his debilitated reflexes would allow him, which was in all account pretty darn quick. The party-goers gasped as Joey flipped over the sofa and landed on his back with the cake splattered all in his face. Seto nodded approvingly. "Yes, that suits you much better."

Yugi grinned and tried not to laugh, but failed miserably for Yami was already laughing hysterically, as was Bakura, who had taken control just to point a finger and laugh at Joey on the floor, cake over his front side. Tea and Tristan gave a sharp glance to each other, not expecting it in the least, for, of course, they didn't know what in the world had happened over the past month or so. But even Joey seemed to be snickering a bit. And Mokuba . . . poor Mokuba. He was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard that he got the hiccups. Seto only managed a grin.

"I didn't see that one coming," Joey said after calming down juristically, after he had tasted the cake. "Meh, it wasn't that good anyway." Then another voice spoke from Joey's mouth, a rather darker but still friendly tone with a perfect British accent.

"I know that people think that my hair is too bland," Jonathan wiped his face of the cake. "But I did not think that you would resort to pink. Horrible color choice." He picked a big glob of cake from his shoulder, which just happened to be purple. "How about this?"

Seto ducked the first cake-attempt and stood, getting smacked between the eyes with a second piece of cake thrown by Mokuba. And to Seto's only horror, the others advanced to Jonathan to snag some cake to throw. It had to be the first time Seto felt quite embarrassed with cake on his face, but also quite in the mood to keep the charade up. "Alright," he breathed and brushed the cake from his face. "This means war."

---

Ryou yawned and checked his watch. 7:30AM on a school day. That would mean he had ten minutes to get dressed, twenty to walk to school, and the remainder fifteen to chat with his friends, or, just incase his millennia spirit felt restless, enough time to haul-ass to school. But today, Bakura was rather melancholy, lounging on the sofa in the living room. The ghost made no attempt to look at Ryou, only snorted in 'Good morning' and fell quiet again.

"What's wrong now?" Ryou asked, rather exasperated.

"Nothing, mortal."

"Now I know there's something wrong."

"None of your business."

Ryou leaned over the couch. "Is it about that number we went through a few weeks ago? You know, with Seto's Mom and ---"

"Maybe," Bakura snapped. "But it's not a pity party if that's what you're thinking."

"Of course not," Ryou didn't make a move to divert the conversation either. "But it has something to do with it?"

"Of course it does! Why else would I be --- be . . ." he snorted and tossed over, muttering something about a stupid mortal. When Ryou didn't leave, he sighed hazardously. "Why does that Kaiba get to have a new life when the ones waiting for thousands of years don't?"

Ryou opened his mouth to say "Maybe because he deserves it", but that wouldn't be right. Instead, he shrugged and walked into the kitchen to fix a batch of tea for the morning and eat himself a cookie. "Who knows? Don't worry about it. At least you don't have demons or such on your tail."

"Maybe that's because I am one," Bakura snapped sarcastically. "I do nothing right. I steal from the poor and the rich. I never lift a finger to help anybody. How is that so different from Kaiba?"

Ryou shrugged again. Too many questions he didn't know. "Dunno. But you're not the only one, you know."

"Oh of course not. But I did help out in this believe it or not! I led those angels to Kaiba and his annoying brother, right? I even stuck around with the squirt for no apparent reason. What did Kaiba do to deserve it? Fight a few demons for his own selfish reasons? Oh, that is something to be damn well proud of!"

"If it were, then you'd be the King of Pride here," Ryou muttered and sat down at the table. "But Kaiba was protecting someone he loved, believe it or not. For once he fought for someone completely other than himself."

"I did too," muttered Bakura sourly and sat up from the couch, sulking over to the kitchen table to reach out and pull the chair back to sit in it. As he did so, Ryou suddenly paled, freezing in mid-chew of the cookie. "I also risked my eternally damned soul for --- what is it now? --- a worthless cause because I didn't get anything out of it?" The ring around Bakura's neck made a horrible clanking noise as he rested his head on the table. "Maybe I should just be as I was --- a horribly selfish poltergeist who only inflicts pain on everyone formy own enjoyment." He darted startling solid dark brown eyes to Ryou, who was still in mid-chew, growing paler by the second. "What's wrong with you? Choking?"

Ryou gulped down his cookie and pointed to his cheek.

Bakura frowned in annoyance, "What? Tooth broke from your charcoal cookies?" He absently brushed his fingers against slashed scars on his right cheek. "Or a toothache? Stupid mortal for ---" He paused as he felt the scar again. It was familiar, a self-inflicted hurt. Suddenly, he darted his attention to his transparent hands to find only a startlingly cold realization.

The host stuttered from his chair to the kitchen phone. "I'm c-calling Y-Y-Yugi."

The millennia-old spirit nodded in agreement as Egyptian flesh formed at his fingertips.

---

"Seto!" Mokuba laughed as he entered the quite contrary office that had taken on a remodeling over the past few months. Picture hung on the walls of their mother and father --- one of their step-mother which they had met once just a few days ago. Nothing of that demon step-father and one solitary picture of Noah. They were led to believe he was gone for good, but they tried to stray away from that subject as much as possible.

Seto's young jubilant brother skipped to the desk and knocked on the wooden surface with a quirky smile. It was Christmas Break --- four months since the incident and everything was fine with the finances and such. Malsworth had pleaded for insanity (God works in mysterious ways) and Mokuba miraculously made the A and B Honor Roll. (Another miracle, Seto chuckled to himself)

Only the few souls knew of the real story behind his death, most just read the article in the newspaper claiming the whole post to be a hoax of miss-trailed information. Everyone believed it too.

The young CEO snapped up from his intent business and grinned. Nowadays he set his work after his family, not before, and it was actually a breath of fresh air to do so. He didn't have high blood pressure from stress anymore either. A job you can get at a meat market. So Seto posted an article in the local paper for a business partner to help command the growing company. Most of the people who had already auditioned for the position had been phonies. In utter dismay, he had almost given up.

They embraced a brotherly hug, and the teen began to have a hunch something was up. That grin meant something.

Mokuba laughed again and tapped the phone line to the secretary, "Is oni-sama still waiting?"

"Oni-sama?"

The smaller winked as the secretary answered, "Yes Mr. Mokuba, he's still here."

"Thank you Nishi-chan!" Mokuba called back, "Send him in!"

Seto quickly snapped to his senses, "Miss Nishi, who---" The line abruptly deadened. He gazed to Mokuba in query who kept that mischievous smile plastered upon his face. "Did you find a business partner for me?"

Mokuba shrugged innocently as a knock came to the door. The two brothers locked gazes for a moment, one in weary and one in enthusiastic anticipation. "Well?" Mokuba jibbed as Seto sighed.

"Come in."

The door opened meekly and a teen not much younger than Seto himself stepped into the vicinity of the office. He wore a white festive business suit and held a folder of presumably job files. He was rather tall, not unbearably, and not really gangly but not buff either. His hair was almost a matted aqua mop and his eyes held a weary blue dread.

Seto adopted his business manor. "May I help you?"

The man nodded, "Yes, I would like to be . . . approved for your business partnership." He paced forwards slowly and sat down in the opposite seat facing the stern CEO. A small smile trickled at the edge of his thin lips.

Mokuba nudged his brother in the side to get on with the interview and Seto proceeded. "What is your history in business?"

"Well," the man sighed, "I truly never got the chance to command a company like my father promised. The line was cut rather . . . short to say the least. Someone else took over and I stayed in a time of solitude."

"So you've never been in business?" Seto was at this point wondering why Mokuba had brought this guy into his office in the first place. A dingbat. That is what this guy was. A fool.

"No but I have been trained in the art of business." He grinned and pulled his application out from the folder chalked full of papers. "I think you might need this."

"Thank you," Seto took the paper carelessly and skimmed over it. "I will contact you Mr. . . ." his eyes widened in a shocking horror. That had to be wrong. "Who was your father?"

"Gozuburo Kaiba."

"Mother?" A lump grew in his throat.

"A British woman, Patricia Nattlemaid Kaiba."

Seto glanced to his brother who's smile had not faded yet and then stood to the other man slowly. He read the rest of the application and then pointed to the folder. "What else is in there?"

The man grinned and flipped open the folder. Blank pages. His grin burst into a beautiful smile. "I had to fill it up with something Seto!"

Seto dropped the application as he heard Mokuba laugh with glee. The CEO held his joy and paced mannerly around the desk, he then extended a hand to the other teen. "How can I refuse? This business is partly yours after all, since you are they heir to the Kaiba name respectably. Would you be my partner, Mr. Kaiba?"

Noah bypassed the hand completely and embraced his brother. "Oh come off it Seto. We're brothers, not business opportunists to each other!"

Without a second thought, for no second thoughts would be exchange, Seto smirked and embraced his brother also, Mokuba joining with the group. "I expect you here sharply at five Monday morning. I take no slackers."

Noah gave a hardy laugh, releasing the hug. "Five in the morning? Come off it Seto! At least eight."

"Six," Seto replied sternly.

"Seven-thirty?"

"Six-thirty."

"Not even seven twenty-five?"

"Six forty-five."

"Seven?" Noah finally asked, exhausted.

"Agreed."

Then the phone suddenly rang at his desk, and the secretary, who Seto had been meaning to ask out, came onto the intercom rather desperately. "Um, Mr. Kaiba?"

"Yes, Miss Darling?" Seto replied in his authorizing tone.

"There's a Yugi Motou on the phone. He's says it's urgent."

Rolling his eyes, Seto muttered about the incompetent teen and picked up the phone. What now? He flexed his silvery bracelet-clad arm and spoke, "This is Seto Kaiba speaking."

A few moments later, the phone dropped from his black-gloved hand.

The End.