I can really feel where I'm headed with this thing now, and I think that's something I've said for quite a while. But there's just … something about these recent chapters that's been telling me something.
I hope it's something special.
Considering how long I've been working on this project, it'd better be.
1.
The Domino Children's Home was the last orphanage in the whole of Saint Claire county, and the only reason it still existed was because Seto Kaiba was sentimental and stubborn. Where every other orphanage in the county, and practically the country, had run out of funding, Seto Kaiba had practically thrown money at this one. He simply refused to let this ancient institution die, and instead seemed hell-bent on revolutionizing childcare using the single-most archaic institution he could get his hands on.
Like a phoenix nesting in its own ashes.
The Kaibas drove Connor to his first appointment with Akiko. It was Connor's first time seeing the place his friend had once called home, and he couldn't help but be rather stunned—which wasn't new. Connor, like so many others, had a specific idea of what an orphanage must look like; he'd always pictured something like a school. Clean but plain, well-worn, with a kind of quiet melancholy. Maybe there would be an old, run-down playground with a lonely soccer ball. The children were always quiet, or sad. They were dressed in old clothes that didn't fit, or maybe they had grass stains or maybe the knees were faded away.
Faced with reality, however, Connor finally started to understand what Mokuba meant when he called Seto a king. The lawns were fresh and vibrant, the buildings solid and well-built. The children, all in clothes that seemed hand-picked for them—a far cry from what few stories Mokuba had offered up about his early childhood, when he'd worn his brother's old clothes more often than not—were loud and boisterous and laughing. They all crowded around the Kaibas and called out greetings, waving so enthusiastically that it was a wonder their shoulders didn't dislocate.
Akiko came up to the small group and bowed her head. "Seto-sama."
A few of the younger kids repeated the title, hopping up and down and obviously vying for Seto's attention. Seto, for his part, seemed perfectly at peace with the situation. When he was surrounded by adults, the elder Kaiba often seemed as though he were chewing on a raw lemon. But right now, he looked . . . happy.
Akiko turned her attention to Connor. "You must be my new client," she said.
Connor scratched at the back of his neck. "I, um . . . I guess I am, yeah."
Akiko glanced down at the cluster of children and smiled dotingly. "Can I trust you to take care of our guests while I'm at work?" she asked.
"Yeah!"
"You bet, Miss Kiko!"
"You can count on us!"
Akiko held out her hand in a welcoming gesture. "If you'll follow me, Mister Brinkley?"
"S-Sure."
Mokuba patted Connor's shoulder. "See you in a while."
Seto didn't speak, but simply offered a nod. Connor nodded in turn, smiled at Mokuba, and followed Akiko across the yard. The children watched him go, but quickly turned their attention back to the Kaibas. They had been given a job to do; they would surely do it. With this in mind, they all sought to pull the brothers in every direction at once.
Connor did his best to remember what everyone kept saying: this was for his benefit. Akiko had called him a client. That meant something. He had no cause to be nervous. He had nothing to prove; nothing to be ashamed of. It didn't matter what he said, because that was the whole idea of having a therapist in the first place; they were the person to whom you could tell anything. It was their job to help.
He wondered how many times he'd have to tell himself that before he believed it.
2.
Seto had begun practicing cardistry as a way to calm down, something he'd had notoriously bad luck with as a child. His hands had always been dexterous, and his hand-eye coordination had always been strong. But he'd also always been anxious, and sitting still had never been easy. He'd started by shuffling. He'd quickly moved on to flourishes. He'd never done it for any specific reason; it had only been to give himself something to do no matter where he was. Regardless of the situation, whether at school or at Kaiba-Corp, in his office or on a plane, all he needed to keep his mind and hands occupied was a deck of cards.
It wasn't often that Seto used his dueling deck; the cards were small, and for a number of years they simply hadn't been durable enough for the kind of handling to which he'd subjected them. Most of the time, Seto used standard playing cards. Not many people knew just how many decks Seto kept around; he bought them by the block, the way his predecessor had with cigars. It wasn't that playing cards were specifically any more durable than Magic & Wizards cards; it was just that they were, by and large, so much cheaper.
Seto was rich, but he wasn't wasteful.
This day, as he and his brother waited for Connor Brinkley, Seto used one of his older, more faithful, decks to occupy himself. The edges were frayed, the images faded from just how often his thumbs had crossed over them, but let it never be said that Seto Kaiba was not sentimental to a fault. He didn't even have the slip-case for this particular pack; he merely kept them together in his pocket with a band.
A small herd of children all gathered around the elder Kaiba as he worked his magic. They stared, gasped, and applauded at all the right moments.
Mokuba, sitting nearby and watching, smiled quietly to himself.
Eventually, he said: "Hey, Niisama."
"Hmmm?" Seto didn't take his eyes from his cards as they danced between his fingers. The little ones didn't, either.
Mokuba was used to this. When Seto was in this particular mode, it wasn't enough to say that he didn't pay attention to what his hands were doing; he literally let his hands do as they would.
"Do you think . . . everything's gonna be okay now?"
He still didn't stop, but Seto paused for just the faintest of moments. He blinked, flashed a glance at his brother, and continued the old ritual. "I suppose," he said, "if I were anything like a reasonable adult, I would tell you of course I do."
"And of course, we wouldn't want anyone to think that."
"You can call me any number of things, and about sixty percent of them would be entirely inappropriate right now," Seto glanced around at his audience, who giggled, "but the one think you will never call me is a liar . . ." he paused, ". . . to children."
Mokuba smirked. "I was gonna say. I've been to way too many of your board meetings for you to pull that one on me."
"Life has thrown the both of us far too many curveballs in far too little time for me to reasonably answer that question." Seto flicked a card into the air, and watched it arc smoothly around Mokuba's head before it sailed back toward Seto's other hand. The children cheered.
"I guess you've got a point."
"I don't know if everything will work out," Seto said. "What I do know is, whatever the universe has planned next for us . . . it will have underestimated us. Again." He chuckled. "Life is full of little moments that make up who a person will become. A song that speaks to you, a movie that inspires you to chase a career. A beloved pet, a friend. A tragedy. A hardship." Seto finally lifted his gaze and looked his brother directly in the eye. "You and I have been through enough of those moments to last any four lifetimes."
He spread out the entire deck facedown on the table where he sat.
"I guess you're right about that," Mokuba said. He smiled.
"Pick a card," Seto said, and a six-year-old girl with round classes and pigtails plucked one of the cards from the table. He nodded. "Good. Memorize it. That's your card. The rest of you look, too. Help her remember. Now," he scooped up the deck into a pack and held it out, "put it back."
She did.
"Do I know if everything is going to be okay from now on? No." He passed the cards to another child. "Could you shuffle these?" He quirked an eyebrow at Mokuba. "But I do know one thing."
"And what's that?"
There was no way to describe Seto's next maneuver than to say that he was juggling the cars. The children ooooooh-ed. "What I know is that whatever life throws at us next, whatever the universe has planned for us next, whatever God puts in our way next . . . however you want to phrase it . . . it isn't ready for us. We'll conquer it."
He tapped the deck and asked the pigtail-glasses girl to draw a card. She did.
"Is that your card?" he asked.
". . . Nuh-uh. Sorry, Mister Seto."
Seto tsk-ed and drew the next card.
He tossed it down.
The girl gasped, pointed, and the other children cheered again.
Seto grinned; his eyes were twinkling. "Close enough," he said.
3.
"Considering the similarities of our respective positions," said Roland, "it's something of a surprise to me that we haven't spoken very much." He chuckled, more to himself than anything. "Then again, it's not as though we have particularly open schedules, is it?"
Darren shrugged. "I don't suppose we do. We had a different president the last time I had a vacation. I've mostly forgotten how to sleep in. If the sun is up when I open my eyes in the morning, I panic."
Roland laughed. "That sounds familiar." He shook his head. "So. What can I do for you, Detective?"
Darren made a dismissive sort of gesture. "For reasons I doubt I have to go into, I've been shut out of this entire Matthew Kerns nonsense. I know next to nothing about either side of the equation." He smirked rather privately. "Some people seem to think I wasn't quite above-board throughout that debacle. I can't imagine why that would be."
"Have you run into trouble?" Roland asked.
"No, no. Nothing like that. It's just, I've found myself wondering how Seto's doing. And while I suppose the normal human thing to do would be to call him, invite him to lunch or something, I don't think either one of us qualifies as a normal human being at this point." Darren shrugged again. His hands slipped into the pockets of his slacks. "I figured there were only so many people I could ask who would actually know how he's holding up. You were the first one I was able to contact. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me, by the way. Also, I figured Seto would be less likely to put up a tough guy front for you. He leaves that for the little guy."
Roland nodded. "Of course. You're absolutely correct."
Darren gave the man a searching look. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of horrible bombshell. Roland was hardly a renowned expert in reading body language, but he was no slouch. The good detective was braced for war. Not that Roland could blame him.
"So? Has he gotten an IV drip for his morning coffee yet?"
"Ah, no. Although I'm sure he's thought of it." Roland had a naturally harsh face, but some things transformed him. The soft little smile that rose on his lips at this moment was one of them. Darren blinked. "Actually, I don't have much in the way to report. He's fine." Roland grunted, then rolled his eyes. "As fine as he can be, in any case. I'm sure you know what I mean."
"I think I do. Yes."
"Which is to say, he isn't sleeping enough and he often forgets to eat, but as far as his mental and emotional state is concerned? Which is what we've had our eyes on for the past month? He's . . . fine."
Darren still looked suspicious. "I feel like I'm missing something. I'm not saying you're lying. I'd love nothing more than to just believe you. But I've known Seto Kaiba long enough to be superstitious about his well-being. So I hope you'll forgive me if I ask for a bit more detail."
Roland looked surprised for the faintest moment, then chuckled to himself. "A fair request. But I'm afraid I have remarkably little to report on this one. It's as simple as it's always been. When we don't know what to do to help Master Kaiba through a particular problem, we've always had a habit of relying on one person to do the heavy lifting. It's not something any of us are proud of. Given Master Kaiba's youth, the entire security team can't help but feel like we're responsible for him. But let's not kid ourselves. Young Master Mokuba has the golden touch, and he always has."
Darren rubbed at his chin. "Fair point. So . . . what's he done? I would have figured that Mokuba would have had more than enough to deal with on his own."
"Well, I don't suppose it's fair to say that Young Master Mokuba did this on his own. He and Miss Hawkins and Young Master Brinkley all had a hand in things. It seems they've started a dueling club at their school. They've recruited three new members, and Master Kaiba is their coach."
Darren blinked. Blinked again. ". . . A dueling coach."
"Mm. Master Kaiba has always had a particularly strong connection to Magic & Wizards. It's the hobby that kept him sane through his childhood. But there have been any number of . . . extenuating circumstances that have prevented him from playing for the past few years. But teaching young players? Sharing his knowledge and passion for his favorite game with the next generation? It's . . . quite elegant, actually."
Darren mulled this over for a time. Then he started laughing. "Elegant, indeed! Those kids really are geniuses!"
"Aren't they just."
". . . Well, damn. And here I was worried about him. I was worried about them both."
Roland nodded, and dared to pat Darren on the shoulder. "As was I. But you know? I don't think we have much to worry about. I think . . . I think those boys will be just fine."
4.
"So?" Mokuba waited for permission before wrapping his arm around Connor's shoulders. "What do you think? Is this going to work for you?" The young Kaiba looked both happy and nervous; he knew that it wasn't Connor's fault if a therapist didn't work for him. Nonetheless, Akiko was a member of his staff. Mokuba didn't sign her checks, but he was just as much a part of the Kaiba family as his brother was. What Seto did, Mokuba did. What Mokuba did, Seto did. There was no way to separate them from each other.
You didn't deal with one Kaiba without dealing with both.
If Connor didn't want to keep working with Akiko, that was fine. But it would mean that Mokuba had failed his friend. That was what Seto believed, and it was what Mokuba believed.
All these thoughts and more rushed through Mokuba's mind all at once.
"You know what?" Connor was practically glowing, and his smile reached his ears. "I think so."
All thoughts of worry and failure fled from Mokuba's mind, and he pulled Connor close into a hug. "Good! That's good!" He ruffled Connor's hair, just like Seto always did. Connor's smile widened, somehow.
"She's really nice," Connor said. "And . . . you're right. She really knows her stuff."
Akiko was on the other side of the yard, having just left her office. No doubt she'd had some measure of paperwork to do. Seto was still seated with his gaggle of onlookers, and it was to here that the boys were headed. Seto saw them coming and offered a jaunty little salute.
Mokuba was too focused on Connor to have honestly noticed, or else he might have been stopped short. How long, he might have asked himself, had it been since Seto had been quite this relaxed? How long had it been since his smile came quite so easily? How long had it been since he'd been able to hold a crowd—tiny and young as it was—quite so effortlessly?
But Mokuba didn't ask these things.
He would have time to ask them later, when the day faded into night and he was fading with it into sleep. For the moment, he was so relieved that Connor's first session had gone well that almost all of his energy had drained from his body at once. By the time they reached Seto's table, the young Kaiba was ready for a nap.
He didn't yawn, but he felt the urge.
"So? How did it go?"
"It went awesome," Mokuba said, "'cuz Connor's awesome and Kiko's awesome."
Connor grinned. "I think this was a real good idea, Mister Kaiba. Thank you."
Seto winked. "Of course."
Akiko arrived moments later, carrying a leather case against her right hip. "Well," she said, "it's getting a bit late, and I daresay Seto-sama might be getting tired. What with having such an energetic entourage all afternoon." Some of the children went over to Akiko. She hugged them and ruffled their hair.
"So?" Seto asked. "What do you have to report?"
Akiko quirked an eyebrow. "To you, Seto-sama? Absolutely nothing."
Seto smirked. "Good."
"Was that a test? Did you honestly think I would breach a client's trust?"
Seto held up his hands. "To your first question, yes. To your second, no." He chuckled as he stood up. He rolled his shoulders. "Consider it a matter of course. I had to check. I had to know."
Akiko crossed her arms and gave her employer a sardonic look. "I'd be insulted if I didn't know you as well as I do. Honestly. You Kaibas. I have no idea how to deal with you sometimes." She looked over at Mokuba. "Bocchan. Handle your brother."
"Bad Niisama. Bad."
"Hiss," said Seto.
