Hello, everyone! Welcome to 2015!
More of a delay in getting this out than I anticipated, but I hope that I might be forgiven. I'm working out a number of different projects at the moment, and the fate of this particular story was in flux for a bit.
Here's the basic idea: I have decided to treat any new stories in the same method that I did for "Light a Candle for the Prince," the last story that I finished. What I mean by this is: I will not begin to post a new story until the story itself, or at least the current story arc, is finished. This will permit me a more regular update schedule.
This will be one of the major stories, I think, that I will post regularly while I work on anything new. Basically, it is my backup work.
Now, then. I suppose things ended on a cliffhanger last year. So what say we check in?
1.
By the time Pegasus Crawford makes another appearance at the Domino Children's Home, Gregor Kelvin is three weeks dead.
Croquet has had an unfortunate amount of experience in maintaining a calculated ignorance when it comes to dead bodies. This is to say that he knows how to maintain a poker face, which is made substantially easier by his ever-present sunglasses and the fact that, in all honesty, he's made his career out of dealing with dead bodies.
Hiding them. Disposing of them. Making them.
Croquet doubts he will ever know how his employer came to the conclusion that three weeks was the proper amount of time to avoid the scene of his crime in order to rid himself of any suspicion, but he can't help but notice the apparent efficacy; no one eyes him strangely as he walks onto the grounds.
The master approaches Kristine Hathaway first. He says, in a tone of voice that Croquet knows beyond knowing that he's been calculating for days: "Good afternoon. It's been some time. I wondered if I could . . . speak with you."
Kristine smiles. "Yes? What can I do for you, Mister Crawford?"
"Far be it from me to hang a carrot in front of you all," the master says, "but I hesitate to donate to the cause considering the nature of its leadership. I can't help but think that you aren't thrilled with the way things are going right now, and I just wondered if there was anything I could do. Perhaps . . . someone who goes above Mister Kelvin's head? Someone who could ensure that I—what is it? You seem surprised."
"Oh, I . . . well . . . it's just that . . . Gregor Kelvin is no longer the director here, Mister Crawford."
"Oh." Pegasus manufactures a delighted look. "I . . . can't deny being pleased to hear that. Has he stepped down?"
"Not . . . quite. He's dead."
The delighted look sloughs from Pegasus's face. ". . . Oh. I see. Well, I suppose that changes things. Regardless of what I felt about the man, I wouldn't wish death upon anyone. And so young."
Had Croquet been a lesser—or younger—man, he may well have choked on his own tongue. He wonders how it can be that Kristine Hathaway does not see the psychopathic amusement glittering in Pegasus's only visible eye, at the irony of his current speech.
She clearly does not see.
"Yes. He was quite young. Daniel is acting as interim director until a permanent replacement comes in." Kristine smiles, somewhat sadly. "But, perhaps this means there is a silver lining? You needn't worry about your donation."
Pegasus chuckles. "I suppose you're right about that." He waits, another calculation, before he says, "You'll forgive me if I assume the children aren't exactly hung up on the loss of their beloved leader."
Kristine shrugs. Her face turns neutral. "Death is always traumatic. It reminds us of our own mortality. But then, I suppose that only applies to the older set. Some of the younger children don't even understand that anything has changed. Others understand, but don't particularly care. Only a couple, sadly, seemed actually affected by the whole thing."
"I would assume that the Yagami brothers would belong to the first and second sets?" Pegasus wonders, with an idle sort of interest, which only Croquet can see through. Kristine simply nods. "How are they doing, if I might ask?"
The young caseworker's smile comes back. "It's a relief to find someone else interested in the welfare of those two. They seem to be doing just fine, since you ask. Little Mokuba is just as excitable as ever."
"And Seto?"
"It seems your visit did him quite a bit of good," Kristine confides. "Apparently he's been socializing at school. Something he's never bothered to do before."
Pegasus chuckles. "Excellent." He turns, slowly, without any particular urgency, to watch the front gates. A small, tan sedan pulls up. It parks almost perfectly within the master's line of vision.
A young woman with reddish brown hair ushers three children out of the car. A small boy with wild black hair and sparkling violet eyes. If not for the fact that his hair is quite a bit shorter, and that the boy himself is quite a bit taller, he may have passed for the little Yagami.
A girl, older than the others, dressed smartly in a skirt, high socks, and a turtleneck sweater. She has a butterfly pin in her brunette hair.
And, of course, looking disheveled and obviously out of his element, Seto Yagami his own self.
"Speak of the devil," Pegasus murmurs, and has a private chuckle to himself.
Yet another calculation.
2.
He'd found himself in the backseat of Missus Mutou's Corolla without any idea of how he even got there. The last thing Seto Yagami could remember was that he was running late after school. And somehow, Yugi Mutou took that to mean that he needed a ride home.
"It's fine!" Yugi had insisted, over and over again. "Mom won't mind! Where do you live?"
He couldn't figure out why Seto didn't want to answer, and kept insisting that Seto tell him long after even Téa had told him to knock it off. Téa seemed to understand more than Yugi did—Seto has found himself wondering if she knows that he is an orphan—why Seto didn't want to accept this offer, but she couldn't get Yugi to stop.
And then Missus Mutou had showed up, and heard the exchange, and Seto found that he couldn't even come up with an argument that sounded halfway logical when she started in on him.
So he'd had to admit that he lived at the Domino Children's Home, even though he'd done a rather impressive job of avoiding the subject ever since he and Yugi had met. Seto had prepared himself for a deluge of sympathetic glances and cooing and cawing; he'd found himself in such a bad mood, in fact, that some part of him had already started calculating excuses for never speaking to Yugi Mutou and his stupid friend ever again.
Except, none of that had happened.
"That's not too far from here," Missus Mutou had said, glancing off in the direction of the old, ramshackle orphanage. "Yes, that's fine. Let me take you there. I assure you, my car's a fair sight faster than your feet." She'd winked, then.
That, more than anything, would keep coming back up in Seto's mind.
She'd winked at him.
On the way to the Children's Home, Missus Mutou had turned into the drive-through of a fast food restaurant, and Seto had had no idea what to order when she asked him what he wanted, so he'd just said he didn't care, even though that was rude. But she hadn't seemed to mind. She didn't seem to mind much of anything. Neither Yugi's excitable commentary, nor Téa's snarky repartee, nor Seto's unconscious rudeness, seemed to bother this woman in the slightest.
So, that afternoon, he had eaten a burger and fries for the first time in his life, sequestered between Yugi and his chicken nuggets and Téa with her BLT; and he kept staring down at the kid's meal Missus Mutou had bought when she'd found out about Mokuba.
Who . . . did that?
Apparently, Natsumi Mutou did.
Seto had tried to insist that none of this was in any way necessary, and offered more than once to get out of the car and walk the rest of the way home. Eventually, she'd said, "I understand what you're trying to do, Seto. Trust me. You aren't inconveniencing me. By the way. Far be it from me to presume to teach you anything, but if you're concerned about being rude . . . it's ruder to refuse a favor than to accept one."
Seto had been silenced for the rest of the ride.
And now, back in the present, here he stands in the place he's supposed to call home, and Mister Crawford is back.
Seto Yagami finds himself so inundated with stunned confusion that he forgets that he wants to be angry. Which is fortuitous, since he doesn't even remember what he wanted to be angry about, anyway.
3.
"You'd think your son were the boy's brother, not Seto."
"You noticed that, too? I've been thinking that all afternoon."
It is a natural defense mechanism for adults surrounded by children to gravitate to each other, which explains why Natsumi Mutou and Pegasus Crawford have become allies this afternoon, despite the fact that they are from different age groups, social circles, backgrounds, and probably don't share a single interest.
They have been seated at a bench, sharing tea and watching Téa Gardner march three boys through any number of games. She is apparently of the opinion that Yugi has forgotten what it means to hang out with friends, and has insisted that they all do something together. She permitted exactly one half-hour for Magic & Wizards talk—"nerd-speak," in her words—before she enforced this new rule. Just enough time, in other words, for Yugi to properly process that the inventor of his favorite new game was actually in his immediate presence, and was more than willing to sign an autograph for him.
Seto may have put up more of an argument if Mokuba hadn't been so excited about playing a game with Nii'tama and his new friends. Yugi, for his part, seemed unable to formulate words, and wouldn't be able to formulate words for a week.
"They're definitely cut from the same cloth," Kristine Hathaway says, approaching from the sidelines. "I can't help but wonder if that's what drew Seto to him in the first place." She glances at Missus Mutou. "He's very . . . introspective. He's been drawn inside himself ever since he came here. I think, when Mister Crawford suggested that he learn to commune with his peers, Seto instinctively sought out someone familiar."
Pegasus is rubbing his chin, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I'm not so sure. You make a fair point, Miss Hathaway, but I can't help but think that young Master Yagami is a touch more complicated than that."
The children are currently playing a heavily-modified version of kickball. Yugi is by far the least talented athlete, and Mokuba seems to have no interest in actually following any rules, so the game eventually descends into a kicking competition between Téa and Seto.
Téa's finesse is slowly emerging victorious over Seto's raw power, but not easily.
"How long has he lived here?" Missus Mutou wonders.
"This coming weekend will make six months," Kristine says. "And he's changed more in the past three weeks than all the time beforehand." She looks at Pegasus. "Your one visit seems to have caused quite a turnaround."
"You flatter me. Destiny is not so superficially countermanded."
". . . What?"
Pegasus chuckles, leans back, and he suddenly has the countenance of a king in the presence of fools. For the slimmest of moments, the young tycoon's hair shifts just so; both Kristine Hathaway and Natsumi Mutou catch the barest glimpse of gold.
"Oh, never you mind," the master says loftily. "Just the ramblings of a lunatic."
.
You may notice that I've decided something about Yugi's hair. That is, it's simply black. Not black-gold-and-burgundy. My running theory is that he chooses to dye it later on, some time before "now" and the canon timeline. After all, he goes for a bit of a punk-rock aesthetic later on, what with his chains and collars and such. Much less of a jump, I think, to say he'd dye his hair, than it is to assume that he was born with three colors in his hair.
This just so happened to make the image I have of Yugi in my head look . . . markedly similar to Mokuba. Which made an odd amount of sense, when I thought about it in the context of this particular tale.