It is now officially 2016. I'm not sure if I fall in line with those who view the new year as a new beginning, a chance to restart, refresh, or what have you. But nonetheless, there's something about the whole enterprise of renewal that appeals to me.
This story certainly seems to encompass just that sort of thing for me.
I've been building ideas, theories, headcanons, whatever you like to call them, for Seto and Mokuba both for going on two decades, and somehow all of them are coalescing into a singular thing . . . right here.
Odd, isn't it? By turning canon on its head, I seem to have stumbled across certain truths.
Maybe that's the point of AU stories in the first place.
1.
"There's one thing I still don't get," Ellie says. She's leaning forward, and has come close to actually resting her chin on Yugi's head; Yugi is seated on the floor in front of David Whittaker's bed. Over the course of the past few hours, the audience for Pegasus's dramatic reading has grown to include not just Yugi, but Sugoroku and several of Seto's fellow orphanage residents.
"What's that, my dear?" Pegasus asks.
"Well," Ellie spreads out her hands like she's giving a presentation, "if they got all this fancy magic and whatever, why're they just handing these random wands to kids like, 'here, take this stick that makes shit explode and wave it around a bit. Oh, don't worry. My store won't catch fire.' Like, what if Harry had shit for aim?" She flinches when she realizes that Mokuba is looking at her, all wide-eyed and impressionable. "What if he hit a bunch of other wands and they all went off? Like when a gun overheats? And then you'd have all this random magic flying all over the place and blowing holes in the walls. What kinda business model is that? They couldn't come up with a better way to handle things? I bet this Olivander don't even have insurance." She crosses her arms and leans back. "Guy's an idiot."
Seto eyes Ellie oddly. He's gained some of his composure back, although his eyes are still dull and his face still has a certain sunken look. "These kids go to school in a castle with moving staircases, and—" he coughs for a while "—that's the health hazard?"
"Man, whatever." Ellie waves a hand. "Staircases movin' on their own are just escalators. Magic escalators. This Diagon Alley place, though. How many casualties you think they get in a year? Huh? I'm bettin' a lot more than you think."
"It's a kid's book, though!" Yugi puts in. "That kind of stuff wouldn't happen." He sounds very self-assured, and nods as though he's cracked some sort of indelible literary code. Though he still flits his eyes around at the others to see what they have to say on the subject.
"Ch'yeah," Ellie says, rolling her eyes. "A kid's book where grown-ass adults leave babies on doorsteps, 'cuz that's safe. Hey, here ya go. Special delivery! This kid's parents got blown up, so now it's your job to look after him. We ain't gonna check and see how you're doing, so go ahead and vent all your frustrations on him or whatever. See you in ten years!"
"That's how kid's literature works," Seto mutters in a sullen, cynical tone of voice. "The adults are all inept. The kids have to do everything, because the older characters aren't smart enough, or observant enough. They don't care enough. That's . . . that's the point."
A silence settles over this proclamation. Children who have never had cause to listen to Seto before find themselves nodding. And why not? This would be the place for such thinking.
Ellie is scowling, but her eyes are bright.
Pegasus looks thoughtful for a moment. Then he says, in all seriousness, "Well, Mokuba? What do you think?"
Mokuba grumbles to himself for a moment, then points at the open book in his lap. "Book," he says authoritatively. "Story."
Pegasus laughs. "Well said, little one. An astute observation. Perhaps we're taking things a tad too seriously, hm?" He casts a sideways glance at Seto, whose eyes are half-lidded and fading fast. "Well," he says, shutting the book and adjusting his weight; Mokuba hops down to the floor. "I do believe that's enough for now. Our host looks spent."
Seto says . . . something. He turns over, huddles into the covers, and lets out a breath that more clearly bespeaks his relief at being left alone than any words he might have chosen.
Pegasus ushers the others out of the room like a security guard. "All right. Let's leave him to his rest. Come along, now."
The only person he doesn't force to leave is Mokuba, who wanders over to his brother's bedside and puts a hand on the lump of blankets. "Nii'tama feel better," he says earnestly. "No more sick."
Seto forces himself to turn around so he can ruffle his brother's hair.
Mokuba makes a grabbing motion. Seto holds the proffered hand for a moment, smiles, and then turns back around.
Pegasus offers a smile over one shoulder. "Mokuba?" he prompts. "Want to help me make lunch?"
The boy perks up and dutifully follows Pegasus outside, only stopping twice more to check back on his brother.
2.
Sugoroku Mutou chops vegetables with the speed and assurance of a master chef, if not perhaps the skill. Nonetheless, Pegasus holds his tongue. His mother may have taught him that imperfect knife work was the prelude to an imperfect meal, but she also taught him that an unkindness—whether of ravens or of words—was a bad omen best not to summon.
In the meantime, Mokuba reprises an old role from the last time he helped cook a meal, by washing the various ingredients. Both Pegasus and Sugoroku glance back at the boy every handful of seconds, alternating so that nary a moment is lost in their surveillance; Mokuba is much too excitable to leave to his own devices.
He might fall into the sink and give himself a surprise bath.
Croquet, for his part, keeps eagles' eyes on the entire demonstration, from one corner of the room, and only deviates from this when his employer calls for something specific—which isn't often.
Pegasus Crawford considers cooking, much like painting, to be an activity worthy of nothing less than his undivided attention, and Croquet has a look on his face that says he's wondering if Sugoroku's assistance is helping or hindering the master's concentration.
The kitchen is soon filled with the sweeping, swirling aromas of a Crawford family recipe, and even the orphanage's head cook, who is grudgingly keeping watch outside in the hallway, offended that his sanctuary has been invaded by so many strangers, seems impressed.
Pegasus usually makes a performance out of everything he does, but in this—likely another holdover from his mother's tutelage—he is as dutiful and subdued as a monastic monk. His movements are quick, curt, almost mechanical. His face is a picture in concentration not unlike those seen on the boy for whom he's making this particular potion, and not for the first time Croquet finds himself amused in spite of himself.
Seto Yagami has simultaneously reignited his new guardian's zest for life and calmed him down to the point that, sometimes, his feet actually seem planted on the ground.
Pegasus doesn't speak to anyone until after everything is complete. As he dips a spoon into the soup and waits for it to cool, he bows his head to his adjutant. "My thanks, Master Mutou. I do believe my mother would approve of what we've done today."
Sugoroku laughs. It's a full, booming, lovely sort of sound that bounces off the walls. "Of course, of course! My pleasure, good sir!"
As Pegasus grins like a child and laughs with his companion, Croquet almost forgets what sort of man is hidden behind that winning smile and that twinkling eye; what kind of monster is hidden behind his other eye.
Twinkling just as brightly, from a different source of light entirely.
3.
It's nearing sunset when Seto finally opens his eyes again with anything resembling coherence. He's alone, his blankets are stifling, and he's sure that there's something important that he's forgetting, something about which he should be concerned, but for the life of him he can't pinpoint what it is.
He slowly lifts himself up to a sitting position, and looks around. There's something pristine, almost religious, about the silence holding court with him.
He doesn't like it.
A quiet groan escapes Seto's lips as he stands up. His pajamas are heavy with sweat and heat. He pulls at his shirt collar and stumbles outside, not sure of his destination, only knowing that he has to move around or he's going to go crazy. Nonetheless, little whimpers of soreness and a lingering headache manage to escape him.
Seto decides that he doesn't appreciate being sick very much.
When he thinks about it later, Seto doesn't really know how he manages to find his family so quickly. Perhaps it's providence. Perhaps dumb luck. Perhaps it's taken him a lot longer than he realizes, and he just doesn't remember wandering about the orphanage for half an hour. More than once, he runs a hand through his hair, and gets irritated when a stray lock flumps its way back against his forehead.
Even though that's usually how he keeps it.
There is a designated play room in the Domino Children's Home, although Seto usually doesn't bother with it; if he were in a better mental state than he is, he might know why that is. As it is, he simply finds it odd—but strangely comforting—that Pegasus and Mokuba are sequestered at one of the craft tables.
Mokuba is scrawling across a sheet of paper with crayons that he seems to select randomly. Pegasus, meanwhile, is carefully sketching with a stick of charcoal. He's talking, although Seto can't hear him as he steps into the room; the man is too quiet for that. Mokuba is grinning and looking over at Pegasus's drawing every so often.
Pegasus eventually holds out a hand, and Mokuba scrounges around his crayons until he plucks up a blue one and hands it over.
David Whittaker, who had been working on something that might have been homework, starts to say something when he notices Seto stumbling around, but something stops him.
Seto feels a hand tap his shoulder. "Still lookin' pretty zonked out, there, Yagami."
This prompts Seto to rub at his face, shoving the heel of his hand against one eye in a vain attempt to distract from his headache. "Mnh."
Ellie laughs. "Y'oughtta sit down. Oi! Money man! Lookie what I found!"
Pegasus glances up. He stands up, gestures to Mokuba, and the both of them head over. "Well, I see that someone is feeling a little better, at least. What do you think, Seto? Up for a little something to eat?"
Seto realizes all at once that he is rather hungry. He nods.
Mokuba stands near Pegasus, looking apprehensively at his brother. "No more sick?" he asks hopefully.
Seto forces himself to smile; it makes his teeth hurt. Or maybe that's just his imagination. He isn't sure. "I'm . . . still sick, Mokie. But . . . I'll be okay."
"I think you'll be interested in this," Pegasus says, putting a hand against Seto's back and leading him gently outside; Mokuba follows at their heels. "I'll have you know that your brother helped me make it."
"Huh?" Seto blinks. "Mokie did?"
"Oh, yes." Pegasus winks. "As did Master Mutou. Most unfortunately, he and Yugi have gone home for the day. But, no matter. You'll be seeing them again soon. The tournament is at their shop, after all."
Seto draws in a shaky breath. "I don't . . . know if I'll be . . ."
"Now, now. None of that. You'll be fine. And once you're feeling better, I've enlisted some . . . insider help to get you prepared. It's your first time on the professional circuit! We have to make a good show of it, now, don't we?"
Seto raises an eyebrow; or, tries to. He manages to contort his face into an expression that vaguely encapsulates his incredulity. "It's just a . . . regional tournament."
"Yes," Pegasus holds up a finger, "but you know what they say about journeys and single steps. I like to think I have a good read on you by now, my boy, and I'm sure that you will treat this first tournament just as seriously as you would a world championship. And if you're going to put in that kind of dedication, it simply wouldn't do if I didn't do the same. So! We're going to make sure you're ready."
". . . Thanks."
Pegasus ruffles Seto's hair.
"Been hearing about this tournament," comes Ellie's voice from Seto's other side, prompting him to remember that she's there. "What've you got up your sleeve, there, Yagami? Huh? You holding out on me?"
Seto doesn't know if his fever has spiked, or if he's blushing.