This chapter — and, to be honest, the entire piece — is dedicated to a very special friend of mine, without whose insight and enthusiasm I would never have figured out just what I wanted out of this AU scenario. I consider this story my best work, and fully intend for it to be the biggest, most ambitious, most important contribution I ever make to the Yu-Gi-Oh! fandom.
Thank you for everything, Shadow. I will never have words for what this means to me. What you mean to me.
But for the moment, I have about 2,800 of them with which I intend to try.
This one's for you.
Happy birthday.
1.
"The strangest thing," Sugoroku Mutou muses, more than a week after the tournament, the next time Pegasus and the Yagamis come to visit, "is that . . . while powerful, this card is hardly the sort one would expect out of a forgery." He waves the Dark Master — Zorc card in one hand, like he's trying to put out a match. "It's a bit of a gamble, honestly. A good trump card, to be sure, but hardly unbeatable."
"I've been wondering that, myself," Pegasus says, though this isn't strictly true. He has a sneaking suspicion that the motive for this monstrous ritual's existence is far more insidious than a tactical advantage, small or large, at the gaming table.
Pegasus's dark thoughts are interrupted when Mokuba—who has been sitting on his knee for the past half hour—bats at his arm. He's found another piece of artwork hidden in the confines of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
"Oh. Look at that. How scandalous." Pegasus taps at his chin. "What do you think? Are there any more?" Mokuba moves his shoulders in a comical exaggeration of a shrug. "You'd better take a look. We don't want to be caught by surprise, now, do we?"
Mokuba's eyes go wide, and he dutifully hunches over the mysterious volume in his hands to continue his perusal.
Seto and Yugi are still going over the cards they won the previous week. They've been categorizing and studying ever since the tournament ended. Every so often, Seto will take a card from one of his various piles, study it for a moment, then set it on Yugi's side of the table. Yugi will, invariably, do the same a moment later.
And so it goes.
"The artist, whoever it is," Sugoroku says, still looking at the Zorc card like it's some ancient artifact—Is it?—he wants to study, "certainly did an admirable job. It looks perfectly in line with your work."
Pegasus grimaces for a moment before schooling his face back to a neutral expression. "True enough," he admits eventually. "I might have gone months, years, without noticing. If not for . . ."
"Happenstance?" Sugoroku offers.
"I was going to say providence, but then I've always been a bit fanciful."
Croquet, standing sentinel near the entrance, snorts with sudden laughter that he attempts to hide by coughing. Pegasus shoots the man a glare, but it doesn't last. His attention invariably returns inward.
"I haven't seen Miss Gardner around lately," Pegasus says suddenly.
"She's been staying with her father, I believe," Sugoroku replies without preamble. "It's been some time."
Pegasus starts to ask about Yugi's father, a mysterious entity who doesn't seem to exist, before deciding against it. Best not to pry. He almost chokes on his tongue, again struck by the irony of his sudden sense of honor when it comes to others' privacy, but he wonders if it might not be any big deal.
Does it matter how often or how little I use it, he asks himself, so long as I remember my mission?
The answer to that question is elusive. It's right at the tip of his tongue, skirting his instincts. He decides to shelve the idea for now. He has more important questions to answer.
". . . Sometimes I wonder," Pegasus says next, without fully realizing that he's talking out loud, "what their parents would think of the job I'm . . . trying to do." He glances down at Mokuba as he says this. Mokuba, for his part, has no input on the discussion. He's too busy staring thunderously at words he can't read. "Am I fit for this? Am I ready for this? It's a continuous refrain in the back of my mind. My house staff, certain parties potentially excluded," he gestures to Croquet, "remain ravenously unconvinced."
Sugoroku smiles. "That you're even asking yourself these questions is a fair enough sign of good tidings," he says. "What's the phrase? 'Intelligent people are full of doubts, while the stupid ones are full of confidence.' I'd be more concerned if you were more cocksure."
But, isn't he?
"Aren't I?"
"Not from my perspective, Mister Crawford. Not at all. Children are . . . well. Not fragile. But certainly impressionable. You've done quite admirably in remembering that. Don't think I haven't seen just how many doubts you've hidden behind that sparkling smile of yours."
Pegasus eyes his impromptu therapist with some chagrin.
Sugoroku winks at him. "That's parenting. You hear that, little one?" He pokes at Mokuba's shoulder. The younger Yagami blinks, looks up, and tilts his head to one side. He looks like a curious bird.
Pegasus remembers Halloween, and chuckles.
"Remember," Sugoroku says, "sometimes grown-ups know what they're doing. Sometimes they don't. It's a tough job, sometimes, being around grown-ups."
"Nii'tama growned up."
Sugoroku laughs. "That's just so."
"So."
The old man winks again. "I wouldn't worry too much."
Pegasus thinks about a certain specter, with black hair and violet eyes, and worries too much anyway.
2.
Without any prompting other than a glance, Seto knows that the stranger who steps into the Turtle Game Shop later that day—pushing a quaint little baby stroller—is an academic. He just has the look. He's of an age with Yugi's grandfather, perhaps a bit older but not by much. Next to Sugoroku's homespun, mom-and-pop wholesomeness, this visitor doesn't necessarily look intimidating, but he doesn't exactly look like he belongs.
He seems cut from the same caste as Pegasus Crawford, actually, in his simple, careworn, but obviously well-tailored suit. Seto imagines this man at a charity gala for abandoned animals, and it isn't hard to picture him handing over the largest donation of the evening and getting a gold-plated plaque for the effort. The sort of thing that would get attached to a park bench, maybe.
Customers have been few and far between today—it's Sunday, and most of the regulars are either at church or scrambling to finish homework—so aside from a couple of mainstays in the back corner, it's just Yugi, Seto, and Mokuba.
Yugi puts on his jaw-popping grin. "Professor Hawkins!"
The man smiles, and it transforms him. All at once, the aura of authority Seto sensed before is gone, replaced by a warmth that surprises him. He can't exactly see Professor Hawkins's smile very clearly, but the general impression of his bushy mustache shows that he's beaming.
The professor kneels down to receive Yugi, who barrels into him. Seto wonders if maybe this man is his friend's other grandfather?
"Yugi, how good to see you again," says Professor Hawkins, ruffling Yugi's mess of black hair. "How are you doing, dear boy?"
"I'm fine! I got 86 percent on my last math test!"
"Did you, truly? My, but you're improving. Excellent. Excellent." Professor Hawkins chuckles.
Yugi must know the man well. If not family, then a longstanding family friend. Seto can feel himself descending, swirling, folding into that old isolation that he's used as a coping mechanism for years now. Pegasus is gone by the time the professor arrives—an emergency at Industrial Illusions has called him away—and somehow, without his new guardian around, it's next to impossible for Seto to be social.
Seto has managed, so far, to keep up conversation with Yugi. But most people, particularly adults, are still a completely foreign operation. So much so that he's surprised—indeed, he's scandalized—when Yugi turns and gestures to him, thereby forcing him into the situation. "This is my friend, Seto," Yugi says, with a hint of dejection. "He got 110 percent."
This is true, but Seto still can't fathom why Yugi might say it. Why should this man he's never met care about Seto's test scores?
Professor Hawkins, still kneeling, settles onto his back leg and blinks. "Oh, my. Extra credit, is it?" Yugi nods emphatically. "Above and beyond the call of duty." That beaming smile comes back. "Wonderful. Just wonderful." He stands smoothly, betraying that he probably doesn't have the back problems that Sugoroku so obviously does—though that never stops the Turtle's proprietor from pretending he doesn't. He steps forward, bows his head, and holds out a hand. "Arthur Hawkins," he says, "at your service."
Seto takes the offered hand. "Seto Yagami." He turns, instinctively. "This is my brother, Mokuba."
"'Lo," Mokuba offers, shuffling behind Seto's leg.
"A pleasure to meet you both." Arthur offers his hand to Mokuba next, who seems to only vaguely remember being taught this procedure before. "Quite the talent with numbers, hm?" Seto nods, but hesitantly. "After my own heart. Dalila used to say that I danced with them." Arthur says this last with a wistful look, then he returns to himself a moment later.
"Seto's a real life genius," Yugi says, with no small measure of pride. "He gets the best grades in our whole class."
Seto's face goes red, and he averts his eyes. "Yugi, don't . . . it's not . . ."
"Now, now," comes a new voice, a booming voice, as Sugoroku Mutou announces into the room. "Arthur, I do hope you're not scaring away my customers! I've worked quite hard for my regulars, thank you very much!"
Mokuba murmurs "Gam'paw" under his breath, and his grip on the hem of Seto's shirt loosens just a bit. Seto turns, equally relieved but less willing to reveal it, and watches as Yugi's grandfather practically bounces across the storefront to embrace the professor.
"Perish the thought, Sugoroku," says Arthur, with a chuckle. His pronunciation of the man's name is much more polished than Seto might have expected; the "foreignness" of Japanese names tend to trip people up, in Seto's experience. Arthur returns Sugoroku's embrace without a sliver of hesitation. "It's good to see you."
"I see you've met our new rising stars!" Sugoroku cries out ecstatically, then glances at the stroller standing vigil beside Arthur and lowers his voice. He claps Arthur on the back. "These two champions here were the final combatants in Domino City's very first Magic & Wizards regional tournament."
Arthur's eyes widen, and something sparks in them. "Really, now?"
"Yes, yes, indeed. But hold on just a moment, what do I spy here?" Sugoroku leans over and glances downward. "Oh. Oh-ho. Oh, no. Is that your new fledgling I see there?"
Of all things, Arthur suddenly looks familiar as a new expression visits his weathered face. "Ah. But of course, where are my manners? If I might introduce Rebecca Hawkins. My granddaughter. Forgive her rudeness. It seems the walk out from the parking lot was a bit too much excitement for her."
Seto leans over to see a little baby girl, barely a year old, with a single tail of blonde hair held to one side of her head with a bright blue scrunchie. She's dressed in coveralls, sneakers, and a striped shirt. The colors do not, in any fashion, match. It's almost painful to look at the outfit this girl has probably picked out for herself.
Seto's nerves melt away, and his grin reaches his ears.
3.
Later, Natsumi Mutou will think that it's providence—surely, she will also think, Pegasus Crawford has begun to wear off on her—which has her out on the main floor of the shop just as Rebecca Hawkins starts to cry. At the moment Natsumi arrives, however, all she can think is that it's been so long since she's heard an infant that, for just a moment, she can't remember why the sound is so familiar.
Sugoroku and Arthur are talking animatedly about something, and their voices cut off immediately. But they aren't the quickest to react; not by a long shot. Before Arthur even starts to move, Seto Yagami has already worked through sixteen different calculations and has instinctively maneuvered himself over to the baby's stroller. Natsumi doesn't know how she knows this; there's just something about the way Seto's eyes flicker every which way whenever he's thinking quickly, and he's thinking very quickly right now.
He turns to Arthur; Rebecca is still squalling. "Professor," he says, and the hesitance that Natsumi half-expects to hear in his voice, because he's addressing a man he doesn't know, isn't there; though his tone is respectful bordering on reverent. "May I?"
He holds his hands out, as though he intends to pick up the baby, but stops.
Arthur flicks a glance at Sugoroku, who nods. "Ah . . . certainly. Thank you."
Natsumi has heard of Rebecca before. Naturally. She's rather good friends with the girl's parents, after all. This is the first time the youngest member of the Hawkins dynasty has made an appearance in Domino City, however. Natsumi steps out to join her contemporaries and wonders what Seto intends to do. Will he hand her off to her grandfather? This certainly seems the proper way to go about things. Natsumi has been warned that this girl is . . . temperamental, even for an infant. Rebecca isn't likely to take to a stranger.
"We're starting to think Gareth has some form of magic laced into his voice," Adeline Hawkins has said; Rebecca's father is evidently the only one who can properly calm her when she gets into a certain mood.
This all said, Seto does not, in fact, head over to Arthur.
Once he's lifted Rebecca from her stroller, Seto rather expertly settles her against his shoulder and starts talking to her. He doesn't use baby-talk, which isn't honestly surprising, but speaks normally, using the same light, gentle inflection that he does with Mokuba—who is enthralled with this ritual and hasn't taken his big violet eyes off of Seto for the past few minutes.
Not that Mokuba ever honestly takes his eyes off of Seto.
"Shhhh-sh-sh-sh . . . it's okay, now . . . everything's okay . . ." Seto's voice has such a lilt that it almost sounds like singing, and Yugi has begun to stare as well. Seto steps slowly along a route that only he can see, pacing about the floor like he's on patrol, or dancing in a stately ballroom.
Natsumi sits at a chair next to her father-in-law and watches the boy work.
Arthur's face is studious, and more than a little surprised, as he does the same. "He knows what he's doing."
"That he does," Natsumi says, which causes Arthur to turn, see her, and smile. "It's good to see you, Arthur."
"Hello, my dear." Arthur quickly turns his attention back to the children. Rebecca has quieted; she's still sniffling, and every once in a while she'll whimper, but it's a far sight from her earlier sermon. ". . . He's done in sixty seconds what usually takes me fifteen minutes. At least."
"He's a quick study, that one," Sugoroku says, then gestures to Mokuba. "Plenty of practice."
"Still. If I hadn't seen this with my own eyes . . ." Arthur cuts off, as Rebecca lets out a sudden giggle, ". . . I don't think I'd have believed it."
Seto is definitely dancing now, twirling Rebecca around and around. He has eyes only for the child in his arms, and those eyes are sparkling. He dips smoothly and kneels in front of his brother. "Look here, Mokie," he says. "This is Rebecca."
Mokuba studies the infant in front of him. "Bay-bee," he says eventually.
"That's right. She's a baby. Say hi, Mokie. Hi, there." He twiddles his fingers near Rebecca's face, causing her to reach out and bat at his hand.
"Hello," Mokuba says, very carefully, and gives a wave of his own.
Rebecca lets out a sound that might be an attempt to reciprocate, then she succumbs to a fit of giggles. Mokuba smiles, looks back at his brother for approval, then reaches out and ruffles Rebecca's hair.
Seto's smile threatens to split his face.
"Remarkable." Arthur lets out a small breath, then chuckles to himself.
Seto seems to suddenly remember himself, where he is and what he's doing, because he stands up, and walks almost sheepishly over to Arthur. He holds Rebecca out to her grandfather, and suddenly his awkwardness is back. "Sorry," he murmurs, eyes downcast.
"Don't be sorry, now," Arthur says, chuckling again. Seto blinks. "It was a privilege to witness a young master at work." He settles Rebecca onto one knee. "You have a gift, Seto."
Seto's face twists in confusion, and he looks around at the others. It's like he expects someone else to correct Arthur, and inform this wayward historian that what he's just done is completely natural, something anyone can do. Nothing about this is special. Nothing about him is special.
Natsumi feels a piece of her heart break.
"He's right, Seto," she says. "You have a golden touch."
Sugoroku is nodding sagely.
Seto turns to Yugi, the last vestige of sanity in this building, only to find that his friend is still staring. ". . . I . . . I just . . . it . . ."
Mokuba bumps into his brother's leg. He points. "Bay-bee." As though Seto has forgotten that Rebecca is here. "Becca."
Seto blinks. Looks down. Looks back around.
". . . Huh."
A smile whispers once again onto Seto's face, and he actually looks pleased with himself.
For once.