I just recently came back from vacation. It was my first time out of the state of California in about 8 years. I met one of my dearest friends, in person, for the first time. It's been years since we met, and I can't think of a better way to spend a week.

… Sorry about the cold, though.

Sometimes I think about the worthiness of what I do here, both in fandom and specifically on FF-Net, but all I have to do is think of all the wonderful people I've met because of it. Specifically because of it.

If not for this path I've taken, I wouldn't be the person I am.

Thank you. Thank you all.

1.

Yugi Mutou would have recognized the gleam in Seto's eyes. Téa Gardner would have seen the razor-edged challenge set there. Ellie McAllister, indeed every orphan sharing a home with Seto and Mokuba, would have known full well what Seto is thinking, and feeling, right now.

Even Mokuba seems to know, if the grin he's hiding behind his tiny hands is any indication.

Pegasus, though, is stunned.

Has he ever seen such cool danger in the boy's face before? Have those eyes ever cut like that? Pegasus reaches back into the annals of his memories over the past months, but the answer isn't there. He sifts through his thoughts like a desperate thief, but he can't find it. The closest to an answer lies in his Magic & Wizards matches with Yugi. In the arena, with his cards underhand, Seto had looked like a field general.

This is . . . close.

"I'm primarily focused on chemistry and computer engineering," Seto says, smooth and confident, and it takes Pegasus a moment to remember what he's even talking about. "The books at my orphanage aren't exactly up-to-date, but they'll serve as a base. I have to master the basics before I can focus on innovation, after all." The elder Yagami puts on a bright little smile that would have looked far more natural on the face of the younger; they actually look related for perhaps the first time. "Eventually, I aim to use what I'm learning now to revolutionize the field of electronic entertainment."

Both Perseus and Toiréasa blink, and unconsciously lean a bit closer.

Seto quirks an eyebrow. "Videogames have been shown to help people, kids and adults, with problem-solving and critical thinking skills, and hand-eye coordination." He seems to be ticking points off a list he keeps on hand. "They can also help you process information faster. Think of it like training for your brain. I think, with the advances in technology we're seeing, especially recently, this medium will unlock so many different avenues to help people learn, relieve stress, and have fun all at the same time!"

Pegasus hasn't the faintest understanding that he is practically fawning at this point, leaning his head against the heel of one hand and staring openly at this little miracle sitting at his table right now.

"I intend to put more focus on this part of the field," Seto continues, "because I think this is one of the most important forms of media humankind has ever created. It's interactive, and that's key! Like, for example. Most of the time, when kids are trying to learn, or older people are trying to get back into learning, there's a lot of emphasis on studying. But how often do people remember what they study? I mean, as a general rule. You remember only as long as you need to, for the test. I think there's a better way. There's plenty of science backing the idea that play is one of the best ways to . . . sneak information into someone's memory."

"It's certainly an effective way to gain, and keep, a person's attention," Pegasus dares to say, smiling impishly at his father. "I'm sure that Athair would agree, what with his lofty career in . . . adult gaming, shall we call it, guiding his experiences?" He glances at Seto. "Athair is the brilliant mind behind the Olympus Heights line of casinos throughout the state of Nevada."

Seto nods amiably.

"I would certainly agree," Toiréasa offers. She smiles at Seto, even daring to wink at him. "You've certainly put a lot of thought into your future, haven't you?"

Seto, eyes twinkling, nods decisively. "I have, ma'am."

Perseus does not reply, not with words, but he doesn't try very hard to hide the smirk that crosses his weathered face. He even chuckles privately to himself. He offers up the most imperceptible of nods in Pegasus's direction, and drinks deeply from the glass of ice water that has been provided for him.

Fiona, and her assistants, begin to filter into the room with their food.

Pegasus leans back in his chair, feeling like he might actually relax, at least a bit, and he shakes his head in unconscious wonder. He realizes that he's spent so much time worrying about this confrontation, something he would have sold his soul to avoid five minutes ago, that he never once honestly thought that Seto might be up to the challenge. But of course, how many people must have asked this little genius about his plans for the future? How many times has he had to answer this exact question?

He's trained for this moment.

"I've been using Magic & Wizards to teach Mokie about his numbers," Seto pipes up into the silence. His little smile is heartbreaking in its delicacy, and Pegasus fights the urge to sweep the boy into his arms. He looks so proud. Not of himself, no, never that. There isn't a narcissistic bone in this precious child's body.

But of his darling brother, who's currently grinning and babbling under his breath while he makes his silverware dance on the table.

Toiréasa is first to oblige him. She says: "Have you now?"

Seto nods enthusiastically. As Fiona sets a bowl of soup in front of him, Seto turns to Mokuba. "Thank you. Look. Look-look-look. Mokie?"

Mokuba, apparently understanding that this is important, sits up straighter and locks his eyes on his brother.

"How many life points do I have?"

Mokuba puts on a thunderous frown and eventually says, with much gravity: "Eight t'ousand."

Seto gives a little cheer and claps. "Good! Good boy, Mokie!" Mokuba giggles. "Okay, okay. It's Yugi's turn. He just attacked my monster." Mokuba gasps, because this is the dramatic part. Seto giggles this time. "I lose two thousand life points. How many do I have now?"

The frown comes back. Mokuba thinks for a while. He turns to the table when a second, smaller, bowl of soup is placed in front of him. He grabs at a spoon and points at Seto with it. "Six t'ousand."

Seto claps again, throws open his arms and pulls Mokuba into a hug. "Yes! Good job! Good boy!"

Toiréasa looks stunned, and more than a little charmed. Even Perseus is impressed.

Pegasus manages, only with the greatest of efforts, to maintain some facsimile of composure. His grin is so wide that it aches. He reaches over and ruffles Seto's hair. "That's the ticket," he says, more to himself than anyone else. And when Seto turns that radiant smile on him, he's sure that he's about to lose his composure completely.

"That's just right."

2.

Seto not only doesn't flub up his first formal dinner when time comes to eat, doubtlessly having noticed which utensils the adults are using, but he's managing to teach Mokuba. Of course, the younger Yagami has no idea why any of this is important. He's more than a little impatient when he goes to pick up a fork, only for his brother to gently set it back down and point to another one.

"It's same," Mokuba says, not quite rolling his eyes. He barely has the patience to consider eating a salad in the first place. This flatware nonsense is trying his patience which, while impressive for a toddler, isn't what anyone would call extensive.

"Mokie?" Seto raises an eyebrow, and Mokuba lowers his head. "Do as I say. Please."

Mokuba grumbles, but doesn't argue.

Toiréasa chuckles behind one hand. She eyes her son. "I seem to recall that you had much the same trouble when we tried to teach you table manners."

Pegasus shrugs. "If you want the truth, I'm more inclined to take the little one's side on this argument." He lifts up his salad fork and twirls it deftly between his fingers before stabbing at a slice of salted cucumber. "My observance of tradition is what you might consider a . . . diplomatic compromise."

"Oh?" Perseus looks intrigued in spite of himself. "And how might that be?"

"It's simple," Pegasus replies with an easy smile. "I am still a preliminary choice for guardianship, after all. And while I may have classes under my belt, and my credentials are assuredly in order, I won't have it said that I'm not teaching them. I may not put much stock in these games of propriety, but society as a collective is another story. And it's that collective to which I must . . . perform."

Seto doesn't smirk, but he does wink.

Pegasus chuckles and pats the boy's shoulder.

They eat quietly for a while, making small talk. Pegasus makes an effort to pay attention to his parents, but he focuses primarily on the children. Seto does his typically admirable job of corralling his young brother and ensuring he's on his best behavior, but Mokuba is growing more and more bored with the proceedings.

Seto is getting frustrated.

Pegasus twitches a finger at Croquet, the next time he enters the room. "See about speeding things up a bit for the boys, won't you? And . . . please, make sure nobody's gone overboard with refinement. They're children, not food critics. I'm not sure whose brilliant idea it was to give Mokuba bleu cheese in the first place."

Croquet nods. "Of course, sir. I'll see to it."

Seto turns to Pegasus, and begins to say something. Then he stops himself, nods, and smiles. "Thank you," he says in a quiet little voice.

Croquet bows deeply at the waist. "Of course," he says again. "You are most welcome."

He leaves, like a wraith, and silence settles.

Into it, Perseus says: "I hope I may be forgiven for being so . . . forward. But what prompted this decision, son?"

Toiréasa casts a suspicious glance at her husband, but it's clear that she has also been wondering. She eventually turns her attention back to Pegasus and waits. There is no question whether or not Pegasus will answer the question. It is a foregone conclusion that he will.

Pegasus draws in a breath, lets it out, and smiles serenely.

3.

"We were . . . visionary sorts, as I'm sure you remember." Neither Perseus nor Toiréasa have to ask for clarification on what Pegasus means by we. "It was a common thing we would find ourselves doing, as the days went on. We would envision our future together, and we would describe it to each other." Pegasus manages to chuckle. His smile is more than a little sad now.

Mokuba is busy studying his spoons.

Seto, however, is hanging on every word.

"You always did have a certain flair for the dramatic," Toiréasa says. There is a touch of pride in her voice. "That sounds like just the sort of hobby you might indulge in."

Pegasus inclines his head, as though thanking his mother for this vote of confidence. "There were any number of things that we envisioned for ourselves and for each other. I pictured myself as a world-renowned artist, traveling the world, visiting the most prestigious galleries."

Into the pause that follows, Seto dares to intrude: "You are a renowned artist."

Pegasus smiles. "I suppose I am, at that." He ruffles Seto's hair. "I doubt the work I've done would find its way into any of the galleries I imagined in my daydreams, but I suppose I have to admit that the future has blessed me in ways that many never see. I am painting professionally . . . after a fashion."

"You painted each of those cards by hand," Toiréasa guesses.

"I did." Pegasus nods with decision. "I can show you the canvases. I keep a select few here in the house. Most of them are in my offices. Legal precautions and other such nonsense." He waves a dismissive hand. "I have a vault. Can you believe this? A vault."

"I do hope it's properly equipped," Toiréasa puts in, with sudden gravity. "I can't count many people I've met without the faintest idea how to properly store artwork. I'll not have my own child falling in with that crowd."

"Maime." Pegasus looks amused, but there's a gleam in his eye. "I can assure you. The number of crowds into which I fall is small and exclusive enough that I can count them on one hand. I would know if any of them were pedestrian enough to build a shoddy vault." He chuckles. "I'm an eccentric, remember?" At Seto's questioning look, Pegasus adds: "My dearest mother is an art dealer by trade."

Seto blinks, then nods. "That makes sense." At Pegasus's questioning look, Seto adds: "The son of an art dealer and a casino owner strikes it big by painting 126 portraits for a competitive card game."

Pegasus frowns thoughtfully, then glances at his parents. ". . . A curse upon my house. And here I thought I'd escaped the two of you. Now look at this." Perseus and Toiréasa both look rather self-satisfied. Pegasus grunts in disgust and ruffles Seto's hair again. "Too smart for your own good. That's what you are."

As Fiona and the rest of the kitchen staff begin setting out platters and trays for the main course, Pegasus changes the subject. "In any case, I was answering your question." He nods at his father. "One of Cyndia's . . . favorite musings was on the subject of a family. We spent endless nights walking each other through how we might raise our children. What sort of home we might have. How we might decorate their bedrooms. What we would do to face the . . . infinitude of complications that no young parent ever manages to predict."

Pegasus is unable to miss the fact that, as is usual when the subject of conversation turns to Cyndia, his parents' faces both sour. They try to hide it, and Pegasus tries to ignore it, but they all fail. He does note, however, a certain patience in Toiréasa that's new. Perseus looks just as curmudgeonly as ever, but his lady wife is actually listening this time.

She says, slowly, quietly: "You didn't want your dreams to fade just because she's gone."

Pegasus shrugs. "Partly. That's the . . . romantic, fairy tale part of it. The head-in-the-clouds part of it." He puts on a smirk that his peers have begun to fear. "The part of it that has Athair wondering whether or not it would be polite to leave the table."

Perseus flinches, but barely.

Toiréasa actually chuckles.

Mokuba drops a fork—specifically, his dessert fork—and lets out a cry dramatic enough for a horror movie. Seto squeaks and ducks under the table. Pegasus makes a winding gesture with one finger, and a new fork is set immediately on the younger boy's napkin.

"I have begun to realize that I have a unique opportunity before me," Pegasus continues. "This game of mine is reaching the children of this city. I've seen it, personally. This game of mine can transform this city. I can feel it. This is the dawn of a new era! And I have the bank statements to prove it." Pegasus chuckles to himself. "But then, what good is affluence if we don't use it? What good is success if we don't do anything with it? Certainly I could buy a yacht and spend the rest of my days putting colors to canvas. I've thought about it. But here," Pegasus puts a hand on Seto's shoulder as the boy pops his head back up, "is a far more interesting opportunity."

The little grin that rises on Seto's face is one part pride and two parts giddiness.

"'Tunity!" Mokuba cuts in, holding up his butter spreader like it's Excalibur.

"Seto wants to change the world," Pegasus declares, as if it's the simplest thing. "I intend to help him do it."

4.

Pegasus is running a finger along the edge of his plate, looking thoughtful. Even though he's still at this meal, he can't quite remember much about it. He has been attempting to remember more than six words at a time for the past hour, and can't. His heart rate keeps spiking, every time he steals a glance at either of his parents.

". . . Given that this is Thanksgiving," he says, eventually, feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline that would have been more at home if he'd been about to leap out of a plane, "I don't suppose we would be interested in that age-old tradition of mentioning what we're thankful for this year."

Pegasus puts on that disarmingly boyish grin that's proven so useful lately.

Perseus, sipping at a mug of black coffee, chuckles. "I, for one, am thankful to have been wrong about this toy company of yours." It's the closest thing to a compliment Pegasus can recall hearing from his father in the past decade. "You're doing quite well for yourself, and that's . . . a relief."

Because now I won't have to pay for your failures.

Pegasus nods graciously.

Toiréasa eyes her lord husband for a moment, perhaps suspiciously, before taking her turn: "I am thankful that our family has come together again after so long. And with such charming new members." She graces the Yagamis with a smile.

Pegasus lifts up his wine glass—filled, only partly for effect, with cranberry juice—and adopts a grandiose tone. "To the lessons I have learned, and to the people who have taught them to me. Young and old, proud and humble. You will ever have left a mark on me, and I will never forget you."

All eyes turn to the children.

Mokuba, naturally, avoids nuance. He slaps at the table and gestures at his dessert. "Cake!"

The last time everyone had their eyes on Seto, he rose to the challenge and struck back at expectations with fervor and conviction. This time, however, he has no such poise. His face is suddenly slack, and his lips tremble as he struggles to find words. He looks around at the room, the table, the food, the people.

The tears begin to fall, and Pegasus is quick to sweep his child into a hug.

Toiréasa isn't far behind.

.

My entire goal with this story is apparently to find different ways to make Seto cry.

… I regret nothing.