I have a tendency to string together plotlines with no real understanding of where they're going to wrap up, so this is a bit of a new experience for me. Setting a specific end-point for this story, and knowing that I have so many chapters left to wrap things up, has forced me to reflect on what this story is, and what it means.

What the themes are. And what the message I want to leave you with.


1.


Rebecca, Huan, Lee, Connor, and Aisha all stood in sequence like soldiers at attention. They could all tell that something important was happening now; there was a general aura of ceremony throughout the entire shop—which had fast become the team's base of operations—and nobody wanted to be the first to break the spell.

Mokuba was also present, but he was not standing as a wyvern today. Today, he was a dragon, and he stood with his brother. He, too, was silent; but the grin on his face said more than any words could. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Seto paced about the main floor, eyeing his students. He had never looked more like a field general than he did now. Everything about his appearance, from his hair to his locket to his wide-sweeping coat, was in perfect, pristine order. Each time he took a step, his shoes clicked on the floor and echoed against the walls.

"You have each tested yourselves on the field of battle," he said, in complete sincerity. Mokuba's general giddiness was infectious, and they all started to smile. Though nobody admitted it out loud, they all rather enjoyed it when Seto took them so seriously. It was melodramatic, of course it was, but there was heart behind it. "Time and again, you have slung spell and arrow, met sword with axe, and come away with valuable knowledge that will only strengthen your later skirmishes."

They all stood a little bit straighter. Their shoulders were a little bit broader.

There weren't many patrons at the Turtle today, but those few who were there were now paying rapt attention; they couldn't help it. When Seto Kaiba spoke, people listened.

"Untold soldiers have come to these fields before you, and every one of them has chosen a champion to guard their backs." Seto clicked a button on what everyone had assumed was a watch; a little projector flew out and latched onto the wall nearby.

Moments later, a magnificent white dragon came bursting into the room, and curled around Seto's body protectively. The great wyrm growled, low in her throat, as she set her claws upon the elder Kaiba's shoulders.

A soft "Ooooooh" reverberated through the building.

Seto smirked. "Stand tall, my students! Name your champion!"

Rebecca took a step forward. "Sapphire Dragon!" she declared. Seto clicked another button, and a blue dragon—smaller than Seto's but no less impressive—flew out of the projector and landed dutifully at her feet.

Huan, practically vibrating with excitement now, stepped forward next. She called out: "Advent Skull Archfiend!" and watched with unrepentant glee as a hulking skeletal demon crawled out of the wall, crackling with lightning, and took a knee before her.

Yugi Mutou, standing near the front counter, looked like he might cry.

Connor took a step. "Shadow Ghoul!"

A monstrous fiend with too many eyes climbed up from Connor's shadow and slithered about his feet, hissing like a hunting cat.

Lee hopped forward and practically shouted: "Ancient Gear Engineer!"

A whirring contraption of ancient gears and metal, humanoid in shape and bearing a giant drill in place of its dominant hand, stomped forward and took up vigil before its master.

Aisha murmured "Arcana Knight Joker" almost to herself as she stepped forward; she watched with awe as a warrior wrapped in black cloth and metal, bearing heavy pauldrons and a blistering white sword, strode up to her and doffed his hat with a bow.

Mokuba turned to his brother and thrust up one fist. "Vengeful Sword Stalker!" he cried.

A golden saber slammed into the floor before the young Kaiba, and a huge muscle-bound demon dropped from the ceiling and took it in hand. It growled, much like the dragon had, and lifted one heavy claw as though to pat Mokuba's head.

Seto stood with his hands behind his back. "My students!" he declared. "You see before you your champions! First among the throng to answer your call! In the days to come, in the battles to come, they will ever bear that honor! And if the day comes that you must relieve them of their service, I would have you remember that service. And so, I offer to each of you, courtesy of one of your own," here he stepped up and put a hand on Mokuba's shoulder, "a token."

He gestured to the front door, as the bell rang and someone new stepped into the shop.


2.


Mokuba watched in stunned surprise as Gloria Haley came sauntering into the shop. She had a jaunty little spring to her step, and a huge black portfolio tucked under one arm. As she approached, Seto clicked another button on his wrist, plucked his projector from the wall, and the holograms all faded from view. A smattering of applause made him smile. He turned, and bowed, and the applause loudened for a moment before it, too, faded.

"Ahoy-hoy, boss," she said, offering a salute to Seto. "Delivery on cue, as requested." She chuckled. "You sure know how to make a show of things, don'tcha?" She put a hand on her heart. "I was moved, honestly, and I couldn't even see anything."

"What can I say?" Seto replied. "It's in my blood."

Haley stepped over to a table and set the portfolio down. She glanced at Mokuba and winked. "Fancy seein' you here, shrimp! Turns out that little job you had me do landed me with a much more demanding client." She offered Seto a grin, then stepped back and clasped her hands behind her back.

"Hello." Mokuba offered up a little wave. "Good to see you again." He turned a glare on his brother. "You didn't tell me this part."

Seto shrugged. "Didn't I?" He strode over to the portfolio and lay gentle hands on it. "I'm looking to expand on the kind of merchandise we put out for Magic & Wizards," he said, and something about the way he said it—the reverence in his voice—made the irritation on Mokuba's face, slight as it had been to start with, vanish.

"Oooooh." Rebecca rubbed her hands together. "Are we gonna see somethin' special?"

"Understand, now, that these are unreleased. They're not indicative of a final product. They're one-of-a-kind. The final designs haven't been decided on yet. So you six are in on the ground floor." He turned and looked at each of his six warriors in turn. "Shall I show you?"

Mokuba was practically dancing. Rebecca made a sound that wasn't even remotely human.

Seto opened the portfolio and removed its contents.

Six playmats, with fabric tops and non-slip rubber backs. Each had transparent zone outlines for each type of card, and bore custom artwork as its background: Sapphire Dragon, Advent Skull Archfiend, Shadow Ghoul, Ancient Gear Engineer, Arcana Knight Joker, and Vengeful Sword Stalker.

The monsters were rendered in a soft, vibrant watercolor style that made them seem to move on their own. And on the bottom right corner of each mat was a name. Seto allowed each of his students to pick up their mat, like he was handing out a badge of honor or a battle standard.

"Whoa . . ." Aisha breathed. "Joker looks so . . . cool."

"This is awesome," said Huan.

Rebecca had no words.

"We will eventually be selling mats like this," Seto said after a moment of silence, "based on the most popular monsters from each set. We'll be having polls for the next few months to determine the first sequence. For now, though . . . you each hold in your hands an official Kaiba Corporation prototype. Remember your champions. Remember them well."

There was a moment of silence as the Riverside Wyverns studied their prizes.

Then, Connor looked up at the others. "So . . . we have to break these in now, don't we?"

Rebecca's eyes widened just a bit, and she grinned. "You're on."

They rushed back to their chosen table without another word and immediately began setting up. Mokuba stopped for a moment, then returned to his brother and threw his arms around Seto's waist.

"This was the best idea ever," he said. "Thanks, big guy."

"One of these days," Seto said, ruffling Mokuba's hair, "you're going to realize that I know everything."

"I love you, Niisama."

"I love you, too."


3.


Some days, Joey would take a chair and sit outside for a while. The weather was cold, but not unbearably so. He found it bracing, more than anything. Sometimes he would play games on his phone, sometimes he would read some back-issue comics, but mostly he would just sit there and watch as people went about their business.

The most important thing he was learning was to slow down and just . . . enjoy time passing.

"Nothin' like a near-death experience to make ya feel old," he mumbled to himself, as an elderly couple walked their dog in front of him. They glanced over at him, he smiled and waved; they smiled and waved back. "If only this was a rockin' chair. Then I could do it up proper, and just . . . complain about whippersnappers or something. That's what old people do, right?"

"I'm not sure, but it's probably a good starting point."

Joey blinked, turned toward the voice, and saw William Hunter strolling up to him. "Hey-hey, look who's here." Joey inclined his head and held up a hand. Hunter waved. He was dressed much more casually than Joey had seen him before; instead of a polo shirt and cargo pants, he was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. His sneakers were new, but unassuming. Hardly the kind of shoes one would expect to see on a rich brat.

Joey wondered if he was trying for a humble look.

Hunter stopped. "You work here, yeah?" he asked, gesturing to the shop.

"Yup. Live here too, at least for now. Doc says I shouldn't move around too much. Y'know how it is." Hunter flinched, but nodded. "Oi. Thought I told ya. No worries on my account, right? We're good."

"Right. Right. I, uh . . . sorry."

Joey held out a hand; Hunter shook it.

"Hey, um." Hunter wiped his hands on his shorts. "Just wondering. I get this is a long shot, but I mean. I was just walking around and happened to find you, so. Maybe this is fate or something. I dunno. Do you, um. Have any way to get hold of . . . Kaiba or Brinkley?"

Joey frowned. "I might. Depends on what you're after."

"I just . . . look. I fucked up. I know I did. I had hold of the reins on a bull I couldn't handle. I just figure . . . I dunno, maybe . . . maybe they wanna . . . know I know. Y'know?"

Joey eyed Hunter for a while, then his face softened. "Yeah. I think I do. Tell ya what, my man. You stay here, huh? Watch my chair for me. I'll be back."

It was Hunter's turn to frown, but he nodded. "All right. Sure."


4.


The first thing he did was find Seto. He knew better than to run this play without handling the biggest hurdle first. "Oi," Joey said, "big man. Got a situation out here, and I figure if I'm gonna be on your clock I oughtta get used to how it feels."

Seto eyed Joey suspiciously. "What manner of . . . situation?" he asked.

Joey beckoned Seto over to the front door, and gestured over to where he'd been sitting. William Hunter was standing there, swinging his arms back and forth and generally looking nervous. He kept running his hands through his hair and looking over at the shop. From this angle, he couldn't see them.

But they could see him.

"Whatcha think, Boss?"

"I hear from Roland that he's cut ties with the rest of his cronies," Seto said; his back was stiff, but he seemed to be forcing his voice into a neutral tone. "What does he want? Do you know?"

"Sounds like he wants to bury the hatchet," Joey said. "Now, I don't remember much about the day this all went down. Everything's fuzzy. But I do remember that he tried to back out once Fuckwhistle McGee pulled his six-gun. Tried to calm everything down, y'know?"

"Mm."

"And, ah. He's already talked to me. Said he was sorry and all that." Joey crossed his arms. "Ask me, he's trying to do right by all this. I dunno what you think we oughtta do with that info, but I figure maybe it's worth something."

Seto scowled, studying the boy in the yard, and his jaw flexed rhythmically. Eventually he sighed and shook his head. "Mokuba," he called.

"Yo!" came the young Kaiba's voice from across the room.

"Come here a moment, please."


5.


"You told me that you wanted to leave this behind you," Seto said. Mokuba nodded. "You told me that you wanted to leave anger behind. Now, I think, is time for you to decide what that means to you." He gestured, even though Mokuba had clearly seen Hunter standing there already; his eyes hadn't left the older boy since he'd walked up.

Joey didn't say anything. He didn't care one way or the other how Mokuba decided to handle Hunter. He remembered something the kid had said—She hasn't earned the right to apologize; not from me—and knew that it was best to leave well enough alone.

Seto Kaiba was the bigger threat, physically. Of course he was. Dude was six feet tall and an expert in . . . how many combat disciplines? Taekwondo, Muay Thai, even some Capoeira. The man was a machine; there was no denying that anymore.

But Mokuba was no slouch in his own right, and more often than not Joey found himself thinking that, despite his friendly outlook and general optimism, Mokuba Kaiba was more ruthlessly protective than his brother would ever be. The fact that Hunter was trying to make up for what he'd done might matter, but it could just as easily not. There was no telling.

For the first time, Joey realized just how good a poker face Mokuba had.

"What it means to me, huh." Mokuba's voice was low, almost deadpan.

"What does it mean," Seto replied, "to leave anger in the past? Do you forgive? Do you offer an olive branch? Or do you walk away?"

There was no judgment in Seto's voice, no indication one way or the other which answer he wanted Mokuba to give. He had no horse in this race. This, Joey thought, was what it meant to be a father. What it meant to be a guardian. It wasn't Seto's job, at this stage in Mokuba's development, to protect him from falling; it was Seto's job to help him back up, when and if he did.

"Hey, Joey."

"What's up, kid?"

"Remember one time you asked me what you should do? 'Cuz your mom was in the hospital, and Serenity wanted you to visit her but you didn't want to?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember that."

"And before you left that day, you said: 'I'm probably gonna do it, aren't I?' And I said, 'Probably.'"

"Yup."

". . . I'm probably gonna go out there, aren't I."

"Yup."

Mokuba sighed. "Ugh. Fine. Wish me luck, I guess."

Joey laughed and clapped Mokuba on the shoulder. "You're all good, kid. You got this."

"Bleeeeeeeh," said Mokuba, as he opened the door, the bell rang, and he left the shop.


6.


"Hey."

". . . Hey."

They stood there for a while, silent and awkward. Hunter kept his eyes low, on the sidewalk. Mokuba kept his high, watching the clouds lumber by. Like Joey, Mokuba took note of the older boy's outfit; it seemed like he was trying very hard to not draw attention to himself. His t-shirt was plain, with no design on it. He didn't wear a watch, or a necklace, or anything that showed off his affluence.

Hunter drew in a heavy breath and let it out. "My dad warned me about going to war with you," he said, finally. "Said it wasn't worth it, and it wouldn't work out anyway. I didn't understand what he was talking about. I thought he was just . . . I dunno. Being a coward or something equally stupid."

Mokuba raised a slow eyebrow over one sardonic eye. "Did you expect him to back you up?"

"I don't know. Maybe? I couldn't tell you what I expected. It wasn't . . . this." Hunter gestured randomly. "I could talk about how I felt powerless at home so I tried to exert power over other people. I could mention that Brinkley was an easy target and I knew that because he was so desperate for friends. I could talk about all that, but it all feels like excuses." He smiled, or tried to. "Mom's a therapist." He shrugged. "Anyway, here's what I know about excuses: they don't do anything. So I'm not gonna bother with 'em."

Mokuba stood there and didn't respond. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He figured it best to let Hunter work through this on his own. He was obviously having a hard time working through his thoughts, and the young Kaiba figured that the least helpful thing he could do right now would be to interrupt him.

Hunter finally forced himself to look Mokuba in the eye.

". . . I owe you and Connor Brinkley an apology. There's no excuse for how I acted, and what I put you through. That gang was my idea, and what they did was my responsibility." This sounded scripted, but Mokuba supposed he wasn't surprised. Chances are, his mother or his father or both had coached him on how to do this. "If there's anything I can do to make this up to you, even if it's . . . to walk away and never come back . . . just say the word."

He bowed his head low.

"I'm sorry. For everything."


7.


Neither of them noticed that they weren't alone until Connor said: "So? What do you think?" Hunter practically leapt out of his shoes, and Mokuba went stiff as a statue. Connor, with Rebecca Hawkins beside him, seemed perfectly at ease. If anything, he looked like he was enjoying himself.

"Has anyone," Mokuba said, "ever told you that you're awful?"

"Sometimes," Connor said, beaming at them both.

Hunter, with a new smile playing at his lips, nodded. ". . . I'm sorry, Connor. You didn't deserve what I put you through. I was a tool."

Connor's smile widened.

Mokuba sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "All right. Well. Here's the thing, William Scott Russel Hunter." Hunter looked surprised. "My brother didn't raise me to blame people for things they aren't responsible for. Basically the worst you've done is be an asshole for a while."

Connor nodded. "You tried to play 'cock of the walk' and it didn't work out. You . . . you didn't pull that trigger. My cousin did. And anyway, Joey says you already talked to him. And the rest of your gang's apparently running for the hills."

Hunter shrugged. "They didn't want to listen. They wanted to get back at . . . everyone. I told them it was best to leave well enough alone. We were already in this way over our heads. There's . . . only so much I can do."

"Do you think they'll try to get back at you?" Mokuba asked.

"I dunno. Maybe. Be funny if they did, though. I've got leverage."

Mokuba smirked, his eyes glimmering. "That right?"

"Oh, yeah."

Silence returned to settle itself over them. Connor still looked like he was having a grand old time, but Hunter was kicking at the concrete and Mokuba kept rubbing his hands together. There were no words, only the ghosts of them. Hints of them. Dancing about and pretending to undo the tension in the air, but flitting out of the way whenever anyone tried to reach for them.

Rebecca cleared her throat and stepped into the conversation: "Okie-dokie, boys. Let's lay this all out." She pointed at Hunter. "You pulled some bullshit." Hunter nodded. She pointed at Mokuba and Connor. "You suffered for it." They shrugged, but eventually nodded. She pointed back at Hunter. "You wanna make amends." Hunter nodded again. Back to Mokuba and Connor. "Are you interested in letting him?"

Connor and Mokuba looked at each other.

". . . Yeah, I think so," Mokuba said.

"I'm okay with that," Connor said.

Rebecca clapped her hands together. "All right, then! I think I have a way for us to vent all these unpleasant emotions all at once." She turned a sudden, almost predatory grin on Hunter. "Do you duel, newbie?"

Hunter blinked. "Uh . . . n-no? Not really."

"Perfect." She chuckled like a supervillain or a cartoon witch. "Come with me."