It's been some time, hasn't it? All I can say is that last chapter marks the end of the first … season, so to speak, of "Kick a Hole in the Sky." The first movement, as I've taken to calling it.
This, therefore, marks the beginning of the second.
I have big plans for this one, but for now, I'm just kind of getting back into the swing of things. I've done a fair bit of hands-on research (so to speak) for this arc.
So stay tuned, as They™ are wont to say.
The wait will be worth it. Promise.
1.
By the time Natsumi and Sugoroku enter the living room to check on the general state of affairs, Seto and Pegasus are both asleep. Yugi and Téa are watching Pokémon on mute with closed captioning on. The reason they are so quiet—even though Yugi usually can't go four minutes into a cartoon before he starts talking to the screen like the characters are old friends he hasn't seen in months—becomes obvious when the two adults catch a glimpse of Mokuba.
He's sitting beside his guardians, arms and legs crossed, with a look of thunderous gravity on his little face. He spies the room's new arrivals, and puts his entire right hand up to his lips—because that makes it more important than just a finger—before returning to his silent vigil. He seems to know, instinctively, that neither Nii'tama nor Pay-guh-sis sleep all that well, and that to trespass on this moment would be an insult of the highest order.
And he just won't suffer it.
Sugoroku glances at his daughter. "You heard the young master," he whispers loftily, in an odd accent reminiscent of the one Pegasus used for so many hours the previous evening. He crooks a finger. "What say we make ourselves useful, then? I'm thinking . . . chocolate chip pancakes?"
Yugi shoots up to a standing position, bouncing on his feet in sudden excitement; it's like everything he's wanted to say since the morning started has begun to bubble up without his consent at the prospect of his favorite breakfast.
"Come along, then," Natsumi says softly. Apparently not softly enough, though, considering the look that Mokuba levels on her. She bows her head in something resembling an apology—so sorry to disturb My Liege, so sorry, shall I take my leave?—and backs out of the room without breaking eye contact.
Appeased again, Mokuba goes back to watching the television.
Sugoroku falls into a fit of suppressed giggling as soon as everyone has crossed the threshold from carpet to tile. Natsumi's smile is two parts amused, one part disapproving, one part patronizing. "Dad, I know what you're thinking," she says quietly. "You leave those children alone. All three of them."
"Three?" Yugi echoes.
"Honey, when you reach our age," Natsumi says, rolling her eyes, "anything under thirty is a child."
"Forty," Sugoroku mumbles.
Yugi scrunches up his nose, obviously confused, and looks at Téa for clarification. She doesn't provide it. Yugi waits a moment, then shrugs and ambles over to the refrigerator.
He's looking for bacon.
The ritual of cooking Sunday Breakfast™ in the Mutou home mostly involves Natsumi acting as a field general while Sugoroku and Yugi, and Téa more often than not, take said field. Natsumi takes on very particular projects in the process of a given meal, and largely leaves the more mundane actions—laying out strips of bacon on a baking sheet in preparation for the oven, mixing the pancake batter, setting various articles of torture in proper place on the kitchen counters—to lesser beings.
Everything is in full swing when Mokuba comes shuffling into the room.
Sugoroku, who happens to have free hands at the moment, smiles at the new arrival. "Hello, there, little one," he says; still in a low voice.
Mokuba looks unsure of himself. His big grey-violet eyes roam about the room, while he bites on the tip of one little finger and pouts around it. He seems to be asking, without actually asking, where everybody went. But he doesn't look particularly relieved to have found everybody. The way he's skirting around the threshold between living room and kitchen, he seems not to know whether or not he's allowed to come in.
Sugoroku squats down and presents his hands in a welcoming gesture. "Come along, Mokuba. Come over here." Mokuba blinks, abandons his finger, and smiles. He toddles across the tile floor and giggles when Sugoroku—"Gam-paw"—sweeps him up and walks back to the counter.
Natsumi ruffles Mokuba's hair. "Good morning, little one," she whispers. "What do you say to helping us make breakfast for Mister Pegasus and Niisama when they wake up, huh?" She brandishes a spatula. "We're making pancakes."
Mokuba squeaks; he uses nothing resembling words, but his affirmation is clear enough.
And so, while Yugi and Téa gather plates and forks and work out the proper egg-to-pancake ratio for each meal's recipient, Natsumi and Sugoroku help Mokuba cook. Sugoroku holds him up, while Natsumi hands him a spatula. She then wraps her hand around Mokuba's and helps him guide it into the proper movements to work culinary magic.
It isn't lost, even on Yugi, just how excited he is.
Sugoroku and Natsumi share a glance, and in it they both realize—at the same time—that this is probably the first time Mokuba has been included in anything that wasn't specifically orchestrated by his brother.
2.
". . . But then, there is the fact that it was merely a test. Isaac wasn't actually sacrificed."
"Did Abraham know that? Did Isaac know that? No. Only God did. It doesn't matter what actually happened. The fact that Isaac got to live just makes everything worse. It wasn't actually necessary. God was just toying with them."
"A test of faith, my boy."
"Oh, whatever. When you strip away the thou shalts and the I am the Lords, all you get is a moody hypocrite playing with an ant farm."
"It would seem that God wanted to know whom Abraham loved more: Isaac, or the Lord."
"And the answer should have been Isaac."
Owing to his vantage point, Sugoroku Mutou can see the look on Pegasus Crawford's face. He couldn't have looked prouder of Seto Yagami if the boy had been painting a seascape. Pegasus ruffles Seto's hair.
"Agreed," Pegasus intones quietly, but firmly, and Seto blinks.
His indignant anger is gone, in favor of surprise. He looks up. "Huh?"
"I was merely playing . . . God's advocate, Seto," Pegasus says with a chuckle as he stands up. "I agree with you. Most fervently." Then he bows. "Apologies. It seems I have been caught toying with you. It seems I am also a moody hypocrite." He looks up loftily at the ceiling. "I do not, however, own an ant farm."
Seto stares for a while, then offers the ghost of a smile. "It's okay," he says. "You're not God."
Pegasus puts a hand to his heart. "Oh! How your words cut! I'm not?"
This summons up a laugh.
Sugoroku Mutou marvels at the idea that one of the wealthiest people to ever frequent Domino City is discussing religion with one of the poorest, in his own living room. When Pegasus locks eyes with him, though, he simply chuckles and gives a nod.
Pegasus, for his part, inclines his head.
Mokuba comes running—inasmuch as his little legs allow him to run—into the room. Sugoroku picks him up and, with barely a shift in momentum, vaults the boy over the couch and directly onto his brother's back. Seto yelps, then laughs again as Mokuba scrambles into his lap.
"Hi, there, Mokie," Seto offers; as always, his voice is the quintessence of gentleness when he's addressing his brother. "Are you having fun?"
Mokuba nods, vigorously as always. "Make food," he announces. "Beck-fuss! Make beck-fuss!"
"You did?" Seto asks, all wonder and wide eyes. "And what did you make, Mokie?"
"Mere!" the toddler says, flopping onto the floor and standing up straight again, like he's a soldier giving orders to an underling. He gestures frantically. "Mere!"
Seto stands up, and follows his brother to the kitchen.
Mokuba calls out something that may or may not count as Pegasus's name.
Natsumi sits everyone down at the table. She smiles dotingly at Mokuba for a moment before ruffling his hair and gesturing to the plates in front of Pegasus and Seto. "Mokuba made those," she says, regarding the vaguely circular pancakes which seem to have more chocolate than cake in them.
Pegasus grins like a boy of twelve. "Did you, now?" he asks Mokuba, who nods again. "Well, now! What an honor that's been bestowed upon me!" He puts on a pensive face. "I do believe I will dispense with syrup this morning."
Natsumi laughs. Mokuba laughs with her, but doesn't seem to know, or care, why.
Seto looks like he wants to cry; he manages to smile, all the same.
"T-Thanks, Mokie. It looks great."
3.
Pegasus is looking over a memo pad. He's been scribbling on it for half an hour, having had to take another phone call not long after breakfast started. He's looking serious, almost grim, and quirks an eyebrow at his notes. "Let's see. Hm . . . almost eleven. Well, that isn't going to work according to . . ." He trails off.
Seto has more chocolate on his face than he is apparently aware of, given the seriousness of his expression. "Is something . . . wrong?" he dares to ask.
"Hm?" Pegasus looks up, bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, and says, "Oh. No, no, not at all. Simply a change of plans." He looks at Natsumi and Sugoroku. "Would it be completely out of line to ask that you give the boys a ride back home? I'd not want to interrupt a holiday weekend so early, but it seems I have some time-sensitive business to which I must attend."
"Of course," Natsumi says. "Not a problem at all. Nothing catastrophic, I hope?"
"Not at all." He sits back down at the table, and begins eating the meal he had to abandon earlier. He holds his fork and knife like surgical instruments, and Seto in particular looks surprised. "Hm? You look perplexed."
"Well . . . you said . . . I mean, I thought . . ."
Pegasus smiles. "Croquet will be here in about an hour. I'm not so busy that I would shirk out on a meal provided to me by someone else. Particularly if I'm a guest in their home." He leans over and ruffles Mokuba's hair. "Besides. This budding chef here is deserving of my expert opinion on pancakes. I'm quite the connoisseur, you know." He takes a bite, chews carefully, and inclines his head again. "My, my. The makings of a true artist. Yes, yes, most excellent."
Pegasus makes small talk in this vein all throughout the rest of his morning. When Croquet arrives—promptly at noon, as though anything else would ever be expected—he is neck-deep into a conversation on the logistics of various trap cards with Yugi and Seto, while Téa tries her hand at teaching Mokuba how to dance.
"Thank you," Croquet says quietly to Natsumi, who let him inside; the Turtle Game shop is closed on Sundays. "Are you ready, sir?"
Pegasus gathers up his plate, alongside the rest of the clutter on the table, and sets it in the sink. "Yes, yes," he says long-sufferingly. "Let us get this underway. Ah!" He reaches into a pocket and produces a deck of cards. "Master Mutou," he says to Yugi. "I will unfortunately be . . . indisposed for a while, I believe." He smirks at Seto. "Could you do me a favor?"
Yugi blinks. "Huh? S-Sure! What is it?" Pegasus hands the deck to Yugi, leans down, and whispers in his ear for a while. Yugi listens intently, then grins from ear to ear. "Ooooh. Okay! Yeah!" He starts looking over the cards.
Pegasus smiles. "Thank you." Then he looks over at Seto and Mokuba. He ruffles Mokuba's hair. "Thank you, Mokuba. Breakfast was delicious." He offers a wink to Sugoroku and Natsumi. They wink back.
He puts a hand on Seto's shoulder, squeezes, and reaches into another pocket. Only Croquet recognizes the tiny black book as the same Bible Pegasus had been reading on the day he and Seto first met. Seto looks confused when his guardian hands this article to him.
"In case you'd like to study further," Pegasus says. "After all, what's the phrase? Knowledge is power? It's best, I think, to understand even that which we don't believe."
Seto chews on this for a moment. Then he nods. "Okay," he says. "I'll read it."
"Very good." Pegasus considers something for a moment, then leans down and kisses the top of Seto's head. "Take care of yourself, my boy. I'll see you again as soon as I'm able."
"Bye-bye!" Mokuba calls out.
Pegasus offers a salute. "Farewell, little warrior. Look after your brother for me."
Similar goodbyes are offered to the Mutous, and then his demeanor shifts gears dramatically as he turns his attention to Croquet. "So," he says coolly, as he's heading into the living room, toward the stairs that will eventually lead him out of the building, "what is it that Gabrielli wants now?"
.
I do hope I've not caused offense with my bit of religious commentary in Scene 2. It's not meant as an attack, or even a criticism, of any kind. Merely my take on the characters' stances. I've gone on record before on why I believe Seto to be a rather vehement Atheist, and the sacrifice of Isaac is one of the more ... pivotal reasons for it.