I'm pretty sure everyone understands the basic premise of this story. The funny part is, it's liable to take me 50,000 words to even reach that point. This came about firstly because I couldn't help but think that, for all the bad blood between them in the anime, Pegasus would be a much better match, in terms of family, for Seto and Mokuba than the father they got.
He already runs a toy company, after all. He's a game designer. And that's exactly what Seto aspires to be, and eventually becomes. I couldn't help but wonder what his childhood would have been like if his dreams and aspirations had been encouraged, rather than dismissed.
But still. Adoption takes time. Building trust with someone like Seto takes time. Mokuba, not so much. My personal head-canon regarding Mokuba's age makes it even easier for him to just go along with whatever, at this point in the timeline.
But anyway, based on what I just said, we have another 10,000 words to get through before any of this speculation of mine even matters.
Let us begin.
1.
The woman makes a sound in her throat like she's choking on something. "Those poor children . . . what an embarrassment. Can't these people get something appropriate for them to wear?"
Seto Yagami looks up from his dueling deck—now blessed with the most powerful dragon in existence as its commanding force—and looks the woman dead in the face. "It's a shirt, ma'am. It covers me. It's doing its job. How, exactly, am I an embarrassment?"
He knows what she's referring to, of course. He's just being flippant. She's talking about the fact that Seto's t-shirt is bright pink, with a rainbow emblazoned in glitter on its front. It is the precise opposite of anything Seto would have picked out for himself.
But then, Mokuba isn't exactly well-versed in fashion.
He wanted to find Nii'tama a shirt that matched the one he picked out, from the latest donation drive. As luck would have it, he'd found one. All that was left was for Seto to wear it.
It was an easy choice to make.
"I . . . I didn't mean you were—you poor boy. It's just horrible, that you would be forced to wear . . . well . . . that."
"Please don't assume anyone forced me to do anything, ma'am," Seto says shortly, turning his attention back to his cards. "I'm wearing this to teach my brother something important. And frankly, you're ruining it. Could you please leave us alone?"
"They should have at least provided you with a boy's clothes." She's looking at Mokuba now, who's playing with a model airplane he found buried in a cardboard box of old toys. He, too, is wearing a pink shirt. His, however, has a Pegasus on it.
Seto wonders if that's ironic or not.
"This is just going to confuse him. Poor dear."
"He's wearing a shirt that he likes," Seto snaps; he's getting angry now. "You're the one liable to confuse him. Please. Would you mind leaving us alone?"
The woman looks offended. Likely she's thinking something untoward about Seto's horrible manners. She's just concerned. She's just trying to help. She's just trying to make herself feel better.
Seto clenches his teeth and waits for the woman to speak again.
His fingers clutch his cards much harder than he would like to admit.
"You know, you might do well to—"
Seto shoots to his feet. "What?!" he snarls; the woman flinches back, stunned and a little frightened. "What are you going to tell me to do? Hm? Be polite? Be courteous? Shut up and listen? You aren't my mother, you aren't his mother, you have no business passing criticism on what we're wearing, and I've asked you twice now to leave us alone. I'm done asking. Go away."
The woman's mouth works soundlessly for a long moment.
She's flabbergasted.
"Pardon me, ma'am," comes a quiet rumble from behind the woman, as Dan Elliot steps up to her. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This establishment does not condone harassment of any kind."
"Harassment? I was—"
Dan's face is cast in iron. "You were, and are, upsetting him. If you have further business to conduct here, I would be happy to assist you. If you'll come with me to my office. Otherwise, if you do not vacate this area, I'm going to have to call the authorities. I really don't think you want a simple misunderstanding to escalate so far."
Fuming, stuttering, and thoroughly out of her element, the woman storms off.
Dan draws in a deep breath. "Are you boys okay?" he asks.
Seto nods slowly. "T-Thank you . . . sir."
Dan chuckles, offers a lopsided grin. "What's this 'sir' business? Are we strangers now? You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you do this sort of thing on purpose just to get a rise out of people."
Seto bristles. "Mokie wanted to wear that shirt. He likes . . . he likes things that can fly. He wanted me to wear this one. Pink used to be a boy's color, anyway. So even if it was any of her business, she's still wrong."
"Okay," Dan says, holding up his hands. "I get it. But you're clearly embarrassed, or at least uncomfortable, and I think maybe you're wearing that as a statement. You're daring people to say something snide so you have an excuse to punch them in the face."
Seto sneers. "And if I am? It's not like we have to worry about getting adopted anymore." The words come out in a torrent, and by the time he realizes what he's saying, it's too late to choke them off. Seto flinches, looks down at the floor, and licks at his lips. "I mean . . . I hope we don't."
Dan starts to say something, stops, and smiles. "Fair enough," he finally decides to say. Seto snaps his head back up and searches Dan's face. "Got me there. But . . . well. It's not like you won't have to deal with other people just because you won't be staying here anymore. Mister Crawford is a businessman. He has partners, and employees, and who knows who else? I just . . . wonder sometimes. Maybe there's a better way to teach your brother important lessons than fighting with stupid people."
He winks.
Seto's mouth twitches. ". . . Maybe."
Dan turns. Starts walking away. "By the way, Seto. Kind of proves my point, here, maybe. Ellie McAllister just got pulled into Kristine's office for starting a fistfight in the backyard."
Seto blinks. "H-Huh? What? Why?"
"I believe I heard someone say something about 'Yagami's girly shirt.' Ellie apparently responded by showing off, quite physically, her personal definition of girly." He chuckles. "You're getting a touch more popular around here than I think you bargained for."
Seto can't hide the pleasure that rushes to his face in the form of a blush, but he still looks suspicious. He says, "You look pretty giddy, even though one of your charges got in a fight."
Dan turns to look over his shoulder. "Yeah. It's probably not very noble of me. But honestly, I find the whole thing kind of funny, actually." His face turns grim. "Now, if you'll excuse me, boys. I have to go pretend I don't."
Mokuba looks up. "Bye-bye!"
Dan waggles his fingers in Mokuba's direction. Mokuba giggles. Waves back.
Seto slips his cards into his pocket and stands up.
"Come on, Mokie. Let's go to the sandbox."
2.
As Seto leads his brother to the playground, and Mokuba dances around because the sandbox is where they build things, and building things is his most extra-special favorite, he spies Kristine Hathaway stepping out of her office with two of the other children in tow. One of them is Ellie McAllister; the other is a boy Seto doesn't recognize very well, but he thinks his name is Phillip.
Whatever his name is, the boy sees Seto and Mokuba and his eyes flare up. As they're passing each other on the walkway, he snaps: "Frickin' glittery princess, you proud of yourself? Got your girlfriend protecting y—"
Before Kristine, or Ellie, can say anything, Seto balls up his fist and slams it into the older boy's stomach. Phillip doubles over, the rest of his question coming out in a heavy grunt. He stumbles, doesn't fall, but he's holding his middle. He's more surprised than hurt, Seto is sure. Phillip is big, and Seto isn't.
Seto glares up at Phillip with ice in his eyes. "I'm going to hope you have a problem with me. If you've been making fun of my brother, next time I'll aim lower. Now get bent. I'm busy."
Ellie tosses back her head and laughs fit to split her sides. She's scuffed up, her lip is bleeding, but she looks . . . bright. Certainly she's in better shape than Phillip. Kristine eyes her sternly, but Ellie isn't paying attention. When Phillip tries to look intimidating, looming over Seto like he wants to eat him, Ellie just keeps laughing.
"Seto." Kristine's voice is icy. "Come with me."
Seto crosses his arms; he's not in a good mood. "I hope you realize you're not going to teach me anything. I have no intention of calming down or letting you take care of things. Ever. I'll come with you, but whatever lecture you have for me, it isn't going to work."
Kristine looks tired. And when she looks at Seto, her face is the quintessence of disappointment. "I know."
Seto takes hold of his brother's hand and follows behind Kristine. "Mokie's coming with me." There is no room for argument.
". . . I know."
"Why's that little snot get special treatment?" Phillip demands.
Kristine groans. "We'll disregard the fact that it's frankly dangerous to leave Mokuba alone. It's because Seto has been sent to my office thirty-four times since he's been here, and each time it's been because he's had to defend himself, or his brother, and I consider it a different sort of problem to stop fights than to start them."
Seto decides he would much rather walk beside Ellie than his newest antagonist.
She ruffles his hair. "Don't listen to her, kiddo. Ya done good."
Seto wonders, as he blushes again, if this is how Mokuba feels when Seto praises him.
Kristine leads the four of them not back to her office, but to the director's. Dan is sitting behind his desk, looking over various stacks of paper. A pile of binder clips and staples sit at his hand, dangerously close to getting knocked over onto the floor. Boxes are stacked on every spare surface, and the only open space is leading from the door to the desk.
It's like debris and clutter are coming in from the back of the office and are slowly, so slowly, consuming it.
Seto wonders if, eventually, everything will start migrating outside. The Paper Monster, with origami fangs and ink dripping from its maw. Maybe its eyes would be those little ink pots people buy for old-fashioned pens. Seto finds himself cracking a smile, almost giggling, as he pictures it. It would make a good design for monster card, and he makes a mental note to tell Mister Crawford about it.
It's not like we have to worry about getting adopted anymore.
Dan's brow crinkles. "Seto? Mokuba? What's this about?" He looks at Kristine. "Why are they here?"
"He called me a glittery princess, so I punched him in the stomach," Seto says flatly. "I don't think he learned his lesson. You know, from getting beat up by a girl. Since he still thinks that's an insult." He glares up at Phillip. "Jerk," he mutters under his breath.
Ellie snickers entirely too loudly.
"Seto!" Kristine snaps. "That's quite enough."
Dan does a remarkable job of holding his composure, but he looks amused. For all of three seconds, anyway. "Seto, we talked about this. I know you said you were doing it to help your brother, but maybe this is one of those situations where picking your battles would be more important than standing your ground. If those shirts you're wearing are causing such an issue that multiple kids aregetting into fights about them, maybe find a different way to teach Mokuba about freedom of expression?"
That isn't what Seto is trying to teach Mokuba at all.
But it's close. And that counts for more than Seto really would have anticipated.
He bows his head. "Yes, sir."
Mokuba mimics the gesture as best as he understands it. Which means he bobs his head around a while and says something that might translate to what Seto said, but just as well might not mean anything at all.
"As for you, young lady," Dan says, pointing to Ellie. "It just so happens that this time, you were sticking up for some of the younger kids. Weren't you?" Ellie shrugs. "And you figured you had a point to make, anyway. That's all well and good. But, this isn't the first time you've been called into this office, either. So, we're going to have to figure something out. You, me, and Kristine, here. We're gonna hammer out a plan. Because I know you've got a good heart, and I'd really rather see you succeed instead of landing yourself in a detention center. Think you can play ball with me?"
Ellie shrugs again. ". . . I hear you, Chief. I'm listenin'."
Kristine looks stunned for all of four seconds, then her face melts into a smile.
She's probably thinking the same thing Seto is.
Why wasn't this man in charge from the start?
Dan nods. "Good. Now!" He leans forward and eyes Phillip. "You're a new face. So why don't you tell me what happened here today, so we can figure out the next step for you?"
It's a test.
Dan's face is smiling, but his eyes are like heat lamps.
Seto unconsciously straightens.
3.
Sometime later, the Yagamis have finally made it to the sandbox off to one side of the cafeteria.
At first, Mokuba tries to do his part to help his brother build his creation. But after a while, Seto slips into a mode that the younger Yagami has already learned to recognize. He's lost in the process of realizing his vision; Seto has no eyes, ears, or faculties for anything—or anyone—else.
Mokuba occupies himself by grabbing a plastic pail and shovel and building his own masterpiece on another plot of land (otherwise known as the other side of the sandbox). His process is less about building and more about exploring. He will pack his pail full of sand, turn it into a squat little tower, then smash it with his hand. He will then poke around at the larger pieces with his fingers, digging around like he thinks he'll find secret treasures.
Sometimes, when Seto isn't in the mood to build and he's just looking after his brother, he will sneak a quarter, or a toy car, or an action figure into Mokuba's pail while he's filling it, so that he'll actually find something.
While the brothers build, the real world stops existing. Seto doesn't notice when other kids start gathering around to watch him. He doesn't hear Glen Hersh—his pet mouse, Snow, is perched on his left shoulder—let out a low whistle of appreciation.
Seto's hands are swift, sure, delicate. He can see every contour, every angle, in his mind's eye. All that's left is to be faithful to that vision. To not betray it. He thinks this, and believes it, but some part of him worries that he won't be able to maintain his momentum. His confidence grows with each successful twist of his fingers and soft sweep of his palms. He has to remind himself to slow down. To be calm. Steady. Meticulous.
He starts mumbling to himself as he works. "Restrooms are over here . . . more than one set . . . here, too, on this side. Make sure the lines aren't too long. Kids pee a lot."
Eventually Mokuba stops paying attention to his digging game, and watches his brother.
"Look here, Mokie," Seto says, almost breathless, as he uses a thumbnail to add a few particular little details. Mokuba is looking, but keeps his distance. He makes an inquisitive little sound in his throat.
"Ooooh . . ."
Seto stands up, splays out his hands, and smiles. He has built an amusement park. Roller coasters swerve majestically through the multitude of buildings, weaving like serpents. He's made a Ferris Wheel, various food stands and gift shops, and even a stage for concerts and magic shows.
"This is your brother's dream," Seto declares. "One day, there will be real parks like this one! All over the world! And—and kids like us, kids without parents, they'll be able to come and play for free!"
Mokuba grins. "Go on rides!"
"That's right, Mokie." Seto's smile widens. "They'll go on rides, and play games, and there will be music and shows and contests. And they'll be able to eat all sorts of carnival food."
The toddler's eyes are sparkling. Seto's are, too.
A sudden shadow looms over Seto's creation, and his good mood. His entire body goes rigid, and he feels a wave of hot fury and embarrassment wash through him like lit coal oil. Another one of Them has come to cause trouble. They'll kick down Seto's work, stomp all over it, and they'll laugh at him like there's nothing at all wrong about it. Like spitting on someone else's dream is perfectly normal.
Why can't anyone leave them alone?
The shadow gets longer, bigger, then shrinks, as Pegasus Crawford hunkers down and studies what Seto has made. His manservant, Croquet, is standing off to the side. Seto eyes them both, waiting for them to speak before he lets himself feel relief.
Pegasus rubs at his chin. "This . . . is very good, Seto," he says, obviously surprised. He grins. "I didn't know you were an artist! A regular sculptor." He gestures. "Croquet, look at this. He's even worked in little patrons, walking around next to the gift shop. You can see them, right there."
"Most impressive," Croquet says gruffly. Seto can't tell if he's being sincere or not. He dares a glance, and sees that the man is actually smiling; a first, if Seto remembers correctly.
Seto always remembers correctly.
"Most children are content to just make a castle," Pegasus says. "Actually, not even an entire castle. Just the keep. But you . . . you have a vision." He chuckles low in his throat. "Remarkable."
Seto says: "I'm going to build a real park, just like this one. You'll see. It'll be great!"
"Great!" Mokuba cries out.
Pegasus nods. "I'm certain of it." He glances at them both. "How are you today, boys?"
"Fine," Seto says, too quickly. Pegasus raises an eyebrow. "I . . . I got in trouble. For fighting. Sort of. It was one punch!"
Pegasus hums thoughtfully. "Just one, is it? And what did your opponent do to earn such a thing as just one punch? If I may ask."
Seto fidgets. "He . . . made fun of my friend. Ellie. Called her my girlfriend. Made it sound like I made her . . . protect me. Or something. Whatever. I don't care."
Pegasus puts on a devastated face. "What a grievous insult, to be called your girlfriend." He puts a hand to his lips. "She must be crushed."
Seto's face goes red. "That's not . . . ! I didn't . . . ! She . . . !"
Pegasus laughs, and ruffles Seto's hair. People keep doing that. "I'm teasing." He adjusts his position and rubs his chin again.
He studies the sand park for a while longer.
Then he looks up. "You know . . . I'd like to ask you something." He's directing this at Mokuba. "Little one . . . your shirt."
Seto's entire being rears back, ready to breathe fire.
Mokuba perks up.
Pegasus points. "Do you know what that is? There?"
Seto blinks. What . . . ?
Mokuba looks down at himself. He points, too. "Horsie." He looks back up at Pegasus. "Horsie fly." He points upward.
Pegasus smiles dotingly, and nods. "Yes. Very true. But, do you know the flying horsie's name?"
Mokuba tilts his head. Shakes it.
"Pegasus."
The boy's little face screws up in confusion. Then he points, quite decisively, at Pegasus.
Seto smiles again. Pegasus laughs. Even Croquet lets out a chuckle. "Yes." The man with the red suit and silver hair sits down just outside the sandbox, crosses his legs under him. Seto, feeling self-conscious now that he's looking down at the man, follows his lead. "That's right. Pegasus is me. But Pegasus is also the name of that horse, there."
". . . Same name?"
Pegasus nods. "That's right. You see, Pegasus was a white stallion, and his parents were Poseidon and Medusa. They're from Ancient Greece. A place far away from here, from a long time ago. His wings were so powerful that he could fly to Heaven! He went on grand adventures, taking legendary heroes all over the ancient world."
Mokuba probably only understands one word in six, but he's leaning forward and paying absolute attention anyway.
Pegasus holds up a finger. "My parents, my mother and father, named me after this magnificent creature." He points that finger at Mokuba. "And now you're wearing him."
Mokuba looks down at his shirt again. "Muh . . . der. Fah . . . der." He looks confused.
"His parents, Mokie," Seto says gently. "Mama. Papa."
"Ma-maw. Pa-pah."
"They took care of me," Pegasus says. "When I was little, like you. If I had a bad dream, or had to make something for school, or go somewhere . . . my mother and father would help me."
This, Mokuba seems to understand. He says, all too seriously: "You have Nii'tama, too?"
Pegasus considers this, then smiles. "I suppose so. How . . . lucky I was." He says this wistfully, and something passes his face that Seto thinks might be anger. Savage anger. It's gone almost immediately, and part of Seto wonders if he didn't imagine it. But another part is sure that he didn't.
"Sir," Croquet says. "Forgive me, but we have to get going. If you're to make it to Westridge in time for your class, we'd best get this business done."
"Class?" Seto echoes.
Pegasus nods. He groans, stands up, and wipes off his pants. "Yes, indeed. In order to attain certification, so that I might become a foster parent . . . I must attend workshops at Westridge College. It's back to school for me!" He takes a slim folder that Croquet hands him, and leafs through it. "I do hope that you have considered my offer, Seto. It won't be long now, you know, before this plan of mine can go into action."
Seto blinks. "Huh? I thought . . . I thought it was supposed to take a year."
Pegasus smiles. "Adoption may take a year. Yes. But fostering is another matter entirely. Once I finish these classes, sit for a few interviews, et cetera, et cetera. I won't bore you with the finer details. The state will want to observe for a while, to see if I and my prospective child . . . or children, as the case may be . . . are a good match for each other. That's why the full process takes as long as it does. Home inspections, interviews."
Something dawns in Seto's eyes that has no name.
His hands start shaking.
"You mean . . . we could . . . ?" He cuts himself off.
He can't say it out loud. Not again.
Pegasus says it for him: "It's very possible that you and your brother could have a new home by Christmas." Pegasus grins, then bows his head. "That is, of course, if you are interested. I'd not impose upon you. Talk it over with your brother. Speak to Mister Elliot, or Miss Hathaway. Perhaps even your girlfriend."
Seto blushes again.
Pegasus chuckles. "Apologies." Croquet clears his throat, and Pegasus groans again. "Yes, yes, fine. I have business that needs doing. Forgive me. Enjoy the rest of your day, Seto. Mokuba. Until we meet again."
Pegasus offers a jaunty little salute. He leaves, and Croquet leaves with him. They're headed for Dan Elliot's office.
Mokuba comes up and takes hold of Seto's hand. "Nii'tama. Go home?"
Seto swallows the lump rising in his throat. ". . . Y-Yes. Mokie. I think . . . so."
Mokuba shakes Seto's arm frantically. "Take me! Nii'tama! I come too!"
Seto blinks, looks down at his brother, and pulls him into a hug. "Of course, Mokie. Of course you're coming. I wouldn't leave you." He kneels down, and puts a hand on Mokuba's cheek. "I'll always take you with me. No matter what."
Mokuba stands there for a while, looking nervous, then wraps his arms around Seto's neck. "Love Nii'tama."
Seto smiles, and rubs Mokuba's back. "I love you, too, baby brother. I love you, too."
They stay that way for a while.
When Pegasus and Croquet head back across the yard in the opposite direction a minute later, Seto remembers something. He calls out—"Mister Crawford!"—before his brain can catch up to him and remind him that the man is busy.
Pegasus stops at once. Turns. "Yes? What is it?"
Seto opens his mouth. Hesitates. Pegasus has turned his full attention on the boy. "I . . . I had . . . an idea. For a, um . . . for a new monster. F-For the game, I mean."
"Sir," Croquet says quietly. "We have to go. Now."
Pegasus waves a hand dismissively.
Seto hangs his head. "I'm s-sorry. You're busy. It . . . it can wait."
"Master Crawford."
"Not now, Croquet."
"Sir—"
"Bring the car around."
"We don't have time to—"
"The longer you argue with me, the less time we'll have. Bring the car around."
Croquet starts to try again, stops himself, sighs. He shakes his head. "Yes, sir."
Pegasus walks over.
Seto looks up; Pegasus looks down.
"What's your idea, my boy?"