I'm not saying that I started this little storyline because I'm convinced that Seto Kaiba would make a good teacher.

All I'm saying is that I didn't NOT do it because of that.


1.


Mokuba had a feeling that Rebecca never honestly intended to not be the captain of her new team. After class let out that afternoon, she pulled a 3-ring binder from her backpack and showed Mokuba and Connor the various things she had already worked out and theorized. She had a spreadsheet set out for practices, brackets set up based on how many members they could realistically recruit, with variants depending on deck type and cost tier.

"Now," she said, "most of this is pure conjecture. It's gonna get thrown out as soon as we actually have a team roster to work with. But I have a lot of pent-up energy in general, and I was really, really bored last night. So this is basically a sales pitch. You need to know what you're walking into with me."

"You realize money isn't necessarily going to be an object," Mokuba said, glancing over the tier list, which had labels like Pocket Change, Several Weeks' Allowance, and Are You Actually Serious Right Now. "Niisama has, like, seven copies of every card in the game. He buys booster boxes just to open the packs. Never mind buying cards for someone's ideal deck. Niisama's probably built it already."

Rebecca shrugged. "Sometimes people are picky about their cards. It doesn't matter if there's a better match for their deck type. They like the monster, or the spell, or whatever. It's the aesthetic, y'know? Think about it. If there was a new card that was better than the Blue-Eyes in literally every way. I'm not talking about arguably better. I mean literally better. Would your brother use it instead? Can you honestly picture Seto Kaiba abandoning his dragons for any reason whatsoever?"

Mokuba frowned thoughtfully. ". . . No."

"Exactly."

"I guess I could say that it's different with Niisama and the Blue-Eyes," Mokuba said, waving a hand, "because he's already kinda built an entire brand around the connection. But I get your point. Have you talked to anybody about whether they'd be interested?"

Rebecca smirked. "What kind of captain do you take me for? Of course I have."

"I hope you didn't make any promises about Niisama being our coach." Mokuba's eyes turned glassy. "I haven't talked to him yet."

"All I had to say," Rebecca said, "was that I've personally played against the best duelists in the world. And I have. Okay, sure, I only played your brother once, and the game was interrupted, but. I never said anything about finishing any of those duels. If we can get the King on our side, that's a bonus. I'm not selling anything but my own innate charisma right now."

Mokuba rolled his eyes. Nonetheless, he looked pleased.

"Do you really think your brother will say no?" Connor asked. "If you're on the team, wouldn't he . . . I dunno, jump at the chance?"

"It's not about whether he wants to do it," Mokuba said. "It's about time. Niisama has to fight for every free minute. At least, that's what it feels like most of the time. It's like he's not allowed to take time for himself, and if he does, the directors act like it's some grand sacrifice to let him."

Rebecca crossed her arms. "The price to sit on the throne," she murmured. Mokuba shot her a look, but she just shrugged. "I'm not saying it's right or wrong. I'm just saying. I've met people on that level. They all operate like that. Time and stress are the currencies you pay for that kind of money and influence."

"Hmph," Mokuba muttered. "Whatever. You're not wrong, I guess. Whether I like it or not—I don't—doesn't matter. The point is, don't count on anything."

Connor patted Mokuba's shoulder. "Do what you have to. You're your brother's biggest defender. If you gotta defend him from us, that's okay." He looked to Rebecca with a hopeful little smile. "Right, Captain?"

Rebecca grinned. "Right."


2.


"So? What do you think?"

There was a glimmer in Haley's eyes that Seto recognized. She had already looked over the concept sketches three times, and she kept looking at them. "I think . . . I'd rather not haggle with you." She looked at Seto and raised one eyebrow. "I won't mince words. Something this big is a hell of a commitment. I hope you're prepared for what that means."

Seto leaned back in his seat. "Are you honestly asking me whether I'm prepared for the bill."

Haley grimaced. "It's not that simple. I've dealt with Big Business before, and it's always a headache. They always act like they're doing me some huge favor by deigning to grace me with their esteemed patronage. And the check always looks impressive, until you break it down by the hour. It's sleight of hand. Your brother had the right idea when he called on me. I'm asking whether you'll do right by the example he set for your name."

Seto grinned. A challenge. "Let's try it this way, then. By your calculations, based on everything I've shown you, what's your price?"

Haley considered this. She turned an even more critical eye to the sketches and mulled them over for five full minutes. All the while, Seto sat there, completely and utterly nonplussed. He didn't twitch, he didn't check his phone, he didn't fidget. He sat, and waited.

She looked up, eyes flinty, and told him.

Seto's face was cast in iron. "I'll double it."

Haley almost choked.

Seto stood. "Half now. Half on completion." He plucked a business card out of a pocket. "If you need more time to consider, give me a call when you reach a decision." He handed it out. "And in case you wonder: this is not charity. I want your mark on this project."

Haley slowly took the proffered card. ". . . You're pretty intense, y'know that?"

Seto shrugged.

"You're an interesting guy. I think I'm starting to see why your brother looks up to you so much." Haley's grin came back. "You're the first business executive I've ever met who's actually prepared to do business." She slipped the card into a pocket, then held out a hand. "I'm in."

Seto nodded. "Excellent."


3.


Roland and Akiko were both present when Mokuba approached his brother that evening. Neither of them knew what was about to transpire, but they both had an idea that it was important. Mokuba had that Kaiba gleam in his eye tonight, and it made him look like his brother like nothing else.

"Niisama."

He was like an underling about to ask his boss for a favor.

Seto, sensing the pressure in the room, turned and looked his brother in the eye. "Mokuba," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets and leaning on his back foot. He didn't seem surprised; if anything, he looked pleased. Roland thought he understood. You could always tell a Kaiba's mental state by how forcefully he presented himself, and Mokuba had been mostly content to take a backseat lately.

Not that Roland could blame him.

"I have a request."

Seto tilted his head slightly. He looked at once charmed and confused. "I'm listening," he said.

Mokuba drew in a deep breath. Steadied himself, squared his shoulders. "Rebecca is starting a dueling club at our school. She wants to join the new youth division starting up next year." His words sounded carefully measured, as considered and meticulous as any executive in a board meeting. "We need a coach, and we wanted to know if you would want to, or be able to, do it."

Roland sighed. "I'm not sure what I expected," he murmured to Akiko, "but I was certain this was going to be cataclysmic."

"Mm." Akiko was nodding. "I was getting ready to give the go-ahead for a full evacuation."

"It's okay if you can't," Mokuba said. This sounded just as measured, just as calculated. "You have a lot going on right now, and I know it hasn't been easy for you. But I wanted to ask anyway."

Seto quirked an eyebrow. "You sound as though you're doing this purely out of obligation. Do you not want me to coach you?"

Mokuba looked stricken. "I . . . no, I . . . ! That's not it." He frowned, stared at the floor for a moment. Then he forced himself to look up again. "I just . . . you always spread yourself so thin, and . . . I . . . I'm worried about you."

Seto's expression softened. He lifted up a hand and gestured.

Mokuba stepped into his brother's hug and leaned against him. "You scare me sometimes, Niisama."

Seto ruffled Mokuba's hair. "I know I do. I'm sorry."

"I want you to be our coach," Mokuba mumbled. "You're the best duelist in the whole world. Nobody can beat you."

"I have several losses on my record now, kiddo."

Mokuba blew a raspberry. "Whatever. Luck and destiny and parlor tricks. Nobody can beat you without gambling or cheating." Mokuba leaned back and looked up. "Yugi knows a lot about the game, but he talks about feel and instinct and faith a lot. That's useful if you're already at tournament-level, but what about the newbies who don't know how to trust themselves yet?"

Seto considered this.

"Yugi was able to teach me because I already knew so much from watching you. We can't know how many of the kids who join our team are gonna have experience. They might play with friends on weekends, they might be ready for the professional leagues, they might have never opened a pack before. Who knows? You're the only one who can help any of them."

"He's thought this through," Roland murmured.

Seto asked several questions, quick and curt. How long would they recruit, what was their maximum number, minimum number, when was this new division starting—all seemingly to test his brother's understanding of what he was asking. Neither Roland nor Akiko thought that this was an actual test. Seto was likely to say yes regardless of how Mokuba responded. It wasn't even to do with helping Mokuba bounce back from his latest brush with trauma. It was simply the fact that he would have an excuse to dust off his cards and play again.

Seto called himself "retired," but he still loved the game.

He always would.

But the fact that Mokuba rattled off the answers without hesitation did seem to impress him.

Eventually, Seto apparently decided that the game was over. He nodded. "All right. Count me in." He paused for a moment, then added: "Give Rebecca my personal number."

"You sure, big guy?"

"I'll know soon enough if I'm going to regret the decision. It'll be fine."

Mokuba nodded. "Okay." He paused, thought a moment, then went in for another hug. "Thanks, Niisama. I love you."

Seto smiled. "Love you, too, kid."


4.


Joey had his moments, times when he just wasn't all that present. Yugi was used to them by now. It wasn't just something that had happened since his injury; it was something he'd done ever since they'd met, and he had a feeling that it was probably something that he'd done his entire life. Yugi supposed he would have called it daydreaming, except that didn't seem quite right.

He was much more involved in whatever it was that had him in this state than would qualify as a dream. Whatever it was he was thinking about, it required every facet of his concentration.

When Joey got like this, Yugi had fallen into the habit of simply waiting for him to come out of it. He knew what it was like to have to search your soul. He'd done it, quite literally, too many times. He remembered all those evenings when he would just lay on his bed and . . . parlay with Atem—Other Me—until the sun rose. Sometimes they would discuss dueling. Sometimes they would discuss modern life. Sometimes they would just ramble on and forget everything they said as soon as they said it.

He wondered if Joey was communing with a ghost right now.

"Oi. Yugi."

"Hm?"

"Y'ever . . . find yourself in a situation where, like, you know what you gotta do? But you still feel like a heel for doin' it? Where you go through all the possibilities and the only option left open is one that's . . . prob'ly not very good? But it's whatcha got to work with?"

Yugi frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose I have," he conceded. "I'm not sure if I could give you a specific example, not without thinking about it for a while, but yeah. Yeah, that sounds familiar enough."

Joey, who was resting on the couch but looked like he would have been pacing around the room if he could have, nodded. He still seemed distracted. "Man. This is prob'ly gonna suck." He groaned. "I'm not gonna sleep right for a month, runnin' all this shit through my head over 'n over again." He looked over. "Take my brain away, Yugi. I'm clearly no good with it."

Yugi smiled. "I'm not going to be any better with it, Joey." He paused. "I'm sure it'll be okay. I believe in you. I have every faith in you."

Joey grunted. "You would say that."

As Joey struggled to his feet, Yugi frowned again. "Are you about to do something Mom is gonna yell at me for letting you do?"

". . . Prob'ly."


5.


Joanna Lorwell had fewer than one idea about dueling. She had agreed to oversee the school's new Dueling Club—which made her think of Harry Potter more than anything—mostly out of curiosity. Anybody who had lived in Domino City longer than a week knew about Magic & Wizards. It was everywhere. Those cards sold Domino the way other cities were sold by their football teams.

Every club at East Rivers required a faculty adviser, but there wasn't any restrictions on who that adviser could be. The fact that Joanna knew about as much about card games as she knew about modern wrestling didn't matter.

So long as the students had adult supervision, everything was fine.

There were six members present at the first official meeting. Rebecca Hawkins, Mokuba Kaiba, and Connor Brinkley she recognized from her own classes. The other three introduced themselves as Huan, Aisha, and Lee.

As everyone sat down, Rebecca hopped atop one of the empty desks. "All right, y'all! In this hallowed hall, we shape the future! We hold all the cards!" She lifted up a dueling deck and chuckled at her own joke.

Lee snickered, covering his mouth with one hand.

Aisha and Huan, who seemed to know Rebecca rather well, didn't react. Both girls seemed used to their friend's antics. Connor smiled lightly, although there was a gleam in his eye. Mokuba, for his part, wore an impeccable poker face.

Joanna couldn't have read what the young Kaiba was thinking or feeling if she'd had a week to study his face.

"Our goal, right now, is to qualify for the first Youth Team Division Tournament in March. It's being held at the Black Crown right here in Domino, and I have it on good authority that plenty of heavy hitters have already gotten invitations. Other than that . . . it's a local tourney, so we won't have to worry too much about other restrictions. All we have to do is win."

"Easy enough," said Lee, "for a champion. I can barely beat my baby sister, and she still picks cards for the pretty art."

"I also do that," Mokuba put in.

"Yes, yes," Rebecca said, waving dismissively, "it might seem like there's no way we'll be ready."

"The last time I played using official rules," Huan said, "my opponent quit because he got bored."

"All valid concerns," Rebecca offered, though she rolled her eyes. "But! We have a secret weapon. I'm not the only champion on this team, you know. Oh, no-no-no. We've got hold of someone very special to whip us all into shape."

Rebecca practically vaulted over the desks and tossed open the door.


6.


"There is no secret to victory. Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is either lying to sell you a self-help ebook, or an idiot."

As he talked, Seto Kaiba flipped and spun his cards through his fingers. He would fan them out, toss them into the air, twist and flip and flick them. He'd dressed in an outfit reminiscent of the flashy costumes he'd worn as a teenager. His coat flared out behind him, his hair had that effortless windswept look he was so well-known for. Everything about his presentation was carefully, meticulously built to draw the eye.

Every eye was on him.

"Each duel is a battle. You are a field general. Your monsters, spells, and traps will forge the battlefield. That may be a metaphor, but if you want to survive the tournament scene then you have to meet it in earnest. You have to believe you're at war."

Mokuba's face was glowing. Rebecca's grin reached her ears.

The other four were awestruck.

"You have to know your arsenal. You have to trust your arsenal. Every card has to be familiar to you. You will be playing plenty of duels in this room. Some against each other, some against me, some against complete strangers. But the first thing you have to do, the very first task ahead of you, is to build a deck."

Seto paused. Eyed his new pupils.

"How many of you have a deck of cards in which you're confident?"

Rebecca, Mokuba, and Huan raised their hands.

Seto nodded. "Good. The three of you will help your fellows to narrow down their choices. And then . . ." He leaned down, plucked up a briefcase, and practically slammed it onto an empty desk in front of him.

There were thousands of cards inside.

Seto chuckled. "First thing's first," he said, crossing his arms. "This is your playground. Try everything. Any card that seems interesting, anything that catches your eye for any reason. Try it. Find your way. We'll have time to refine your choices later. For the moment, your task is simple. Play."