Chapter 14 – On The Rocks
5/30/09
Disclaimer: I must the state this obvious fact to please any lawsuit lookers, but I own neither Yu-gi-oh or any other references that are mentioned in this FANfiction. OCs and plot are mine. Plagiarism, despite some sayings, is not equivalent to flattery.
Seiji Nakamura was trained as an engineer, so, when a problem came upon him, he thought skeptically and methodically by weighing the options and choosing the best one, preferring to find a solution quickly and efficiently as possible. Perhaps, that was why he had little patience for business meetings. Unlike his straightforward search for an answer, the meetings included a dance of flattery and strutting thrown among the upper and lower management, before the obvious solution was decided.
As Seiji entered the location of the meeting, he glanced at the well-designed room. Painted off-white walls surrounded the boardroom, holding little furniture beyond a cherry wood table, a small projector, a flip board, and other office items. Several black cantilever chairs surrounded the long table that many well-dressed businessmen crowded.
Finding an empty chair near the middle of table, Seiji seated himself next to an elderly manager, who was currently in a deep discussion about stocks. The gray-haired man paid the thirty-one-year-old no attention, bragging to his subordinate about his connections at the Tokyo Stock Exchange.
He glanced at his watch, which read 3:27. In a few minutes, the meeting would start. Glancing at the right side of the table, Seiji spotted Nesbitt, a lean man with a high forehead, stare coldly at his subordinates, folding his arms in an arrogant expression. Seiji rarely dealt with any of the Big Five directly, usually receiving faxes or messages on his beeper, but, on the few occasions that he did, he decided that the department head was the most unemotional and anti-social human that he ever met. Nesbitt's beady orbs seemed to eye the managers as if they were no greater than vermin.
Turning his attention away from the department head, Seiji quickly grabbed a yellow lined notepad and a pen from his briefcase. Hopefully, Nesbitt's presence meant that the meeting would end quickly, for it was well known among the company that he lacked patience for prattling.
The doors opened to a tall man in a red double-breasted suit, quickly grabbing the room's attention and silencing the chatter. Thick gray sideburns, mustache, and brows framed his strong features. A smug expression crossed his face, an air of self-assured confidence on his strong jaw and lips. The man eyed the group of managers, who, along with Seiji, rose up from their seats in respect of his presence. Roland quickly greeted the man, handing him a white envelope. The man snatched it as his assistant followed his brisk pace. Seiji noticed that his friend's head was more cowered than usual, demonstrating none of his usual vibrancy.
Gozaburo Kaiba. Seiji never crossed paths with the CEO, but he had read enough newspapers to know a bit. Reporters praised Gozaburo Kaiba for being an extraordinary asset to the Japanese economy and great philanthropist, recently giving a huge sum of money to a local orphanage, one of several charitable organizations. The media seemed to adore the man; however, a few outspoken journalists stated that the man was ruthless, laying claims that dirty tactics were used to overthrow competition.
After the tall man seated himself onto a chair at the left end of the long table, Seiji, along with the other businessmen, followed suit and sat down. Seiji peered at Gozaburo as he disinterestedly rummaged through the papers in the envelope that Roland just handed him. The man's features dripped with a delusional amount of entitlement and arrogance, but such qualities were typical in many Japanese businessmen.
His attention to the CEO was interrupted by Nesbitt, who rose on the opposite side of the table. "We are here to discuss the need to cut production. As many of you are, or should be aware, sales of AK-47s have dropped in the last quarter. The demand has decreased since the collapse of the Soviet Union, and production needs to address this trend." Nesbitt's robotic tone continued without any change in inflection.
Seiji quickly scribbled notes onto his pad as the man droned about other aspects of production. Seiji disliked conflict, let alone war, but it wasn't as if he did any of the manufacturing or production. His corporate career lay with its paperwork.
In between comments of the information on the latest model of arsenal and the figures on production, Seiji forced himself from yawning. Nesbitt, it seemed, spoke with as much personality as a robot, something that Seiji vaguely wondered if he was.
The technology expert sat down, leaving several subordinates to clap with glum enthusiasm.
At the opposite side of the table, the CEO rose. "KaibaCorp faces difficult times." Eyes flew to him as he paused for a moment in silence as the attention pressed onto his. Seiji found something undeniably compelling about him, having all of the magnetic charisma that the former speaker lacked. "Unfortunately, Japan's current economic state has strained the KaibaCorp's sales. It is an unfortunate decision, no doubt, but sometimes, we must choose the more difficult one. Due to falling sales in weapons, KaibaCorp must be forced to restructure several of our departments. It is regrettable, no doubt, but necessary. Roland is passing you handouts on whether your division will be affected."
Restructure? Seiji's eyes widened as he picked up a document that was passed towards him. In the current economy, it would be nearly impossible to find a decently paying job, particularly among unskilled workers. Firing a huge group of employees would add to the already growing pool of unemployed. Besides, from his conversations with Roland, he had been under the impression that KaibaCorp had been flourishing, not dealing with major financial crisis.
Quickly, he searched for his name on the paper. Nagaoka Fudo. Naito Masa. Nakamura Seiji. A pang of sadness came upon him when he realized that a few of his departments would be terminated. He had fired employees before, but never on the same scale.
While a balding manager rose to discuss missiles, Seiji peered at Gozaburo as he stared coldly towards the group. His forehead furrowed deeply into a frown, almost calculating. The man quickly glanced at Seiji, catching him from the corner of eyes. They were cold and unfeeling, holding no kind of regret or genuine care.
They were dangerous. Something in Seiji tensed as he stared into them.
Perhaps, the company could lower the employee's checks and take budget cuts among the higher management's salaries. This could possibly lower the amount of terminated employees. Maybe, he could bring this idea during the meeting…
As quickly as that thought entered his mind, he squelched it. It was not his business if Gozaburo Kaiba was a good man or how he ran his company. All that mattered was a paycheck to provide for his family.
Nothing less. Nothing more.
...
"Could you quit following me?"
Seto rose away from the raven-haired infant as a pair of small hands quickly clasped his blue jeans. Mokuba gurgled cheerfully in his light green sleeper, as the boy pulled away, and set himself to crawl on fours towards the elder boy, once again.
For the past half hour, his brother had been crawling towards him in an annoyingly persistent manner. Whenever Seto got up and picked himself away, his brother, being rather stupid in his opinion, seemed to enjoy this sort of chase and continued to follow. Mokuba seemed to think that Seto was playing a game, not avoiding him.
"Like kid, could you just let him hold onto you? He just likes following you."
Seto narrowed his eyes, deciding to pay no attention to the ganguro girl who lounged on the tan couch. He was not letting some baby, particularly his own brother, win against him.
Jun rolled her eyes at her cousin's stubbornness and returned to her conversation as she pressed the corded phone to her ear. "So, anyway, did you see Mayumi's outfit? That shirt with those pants are like so not hot! I mean, who wears navy blue and black?"
Seto wanted to retort that her current outfit, consisting of a yellow skort, neon green tank top, and rainbow-colored suspenders, were much more questionable, but he had no desire to be grounded any further. Two weeks without video games had been enough torture.
"So like anyway, I heard that Masumi's going out with Nobu, but Nobu's secretly screwing Ai in the janitor's closet during lunch. That girl's like so naïve. And she had the actual gall to tell me that I'm a childish bitch. Such a fucktard!" Seto frowned. Although he was not quite sure what tools had to do between males and females, he did not like the tone of this conversation. "And she thinks that Masa Takahashi is like the totally hottest drama star on the face of the television ever. Hello? Ken Tanaka! What a dumbass fangirl!"
Since Seto was deeply absorbed into this conversation as he held a book with his right hand, he failed to notice Mokuba come closer and pat him. When he noticed tiny fingers lightly tug his jeans, he jerked away, causing the infant to fall and hit his head against the low wooden table in front of him.
"Are you kidding me? Well, I gotta go. My so-called genius cousin has little brother issues. Bye." Jun returned the receiver onto the base and scooped up the wailing infant from the ground. "Like kid, what's your problem? Even if he is an annoying brat, he is just playing with you."
"If you didn't get me in trouble, I would be playing with my Sega." Of course, this had nothing to do with Mokuba's current state, but Seto wan't about to admit that. Seto quickly scanned the boy's head for a bump, even though it was impossible to tell from the mass of hair. A small relief came to him when his brother's cries started to lessen as the teenager rocked the infant.
"Mokie, your brother is a complete dumb-ass." Mokuba clasped onto the yellow beads of Jun's necklace, fascinated by the obnoxious brightness of it.
"Cursing shows ill-breeding and a lack of vocabulary. Don't say such bad words in front of Mo-, I mean, the baby!" Seto declared, causing the pig-tailed girl to glare at him.
"Congratafuckulations, you are officially a prick. I'll make sure that his first words are curses!"
Fortunately for the innocent infant's ears, but unfortunate for herself, Hiroko arrived in a light pink kimono and a pair of dirty gardening gloves that she was holding with her left hand. She had been planting snow willow in the front yard, despite her younger cousin's insistence that such help was unnecessary. Any pleasant expression across her round face would be short-lived.
She groaned. It seemed to be a common sound that she frequently uttered whenever she entered the residence. "I see that I can't leave you for ten minutes without expecting chaos. Jun, I'm tired of—"
"Of me not being a proper lady. Blah, blah, blah. Sorry mom, but tea ceremony and flower arranging are not my thing. Anyway, now you're here…" The lanky girl handed the baby to the petite woman and plopped onto the couch. "Taking care of babies are not my thing, either."
The middle-aged woman paused momentarily, wondering if she should continue her lecture of the accepted etiquette of proper ladies and the ills of adopting western mannerisms among the Japanese youth, but the forming tears of Mokuba's slate-colored eyes convinced her against this action. Pressing against the wooden-framed sliding door, she headed toward the kitchen, her haven of proper civility.
Paying no attention to Seto's agitated expression, Jun placed a pair of headphones over her ears as she turned on her walkman. Her voice hummed to a catchy tune as her fingers strummed on the wooden arm of the futon couch.
At least his father's latest gift, a book of sudoku puzzles, should pass the time in a quick manner. The sudoku included nine huge boxes, in which he had to fill every single space with numbers that ranged from 1 to 9 without overlapping horizontally or vertically. He grabbed a pencil from the low table and started to neatly fill a row on the left. 5. 7. 3. 2. Going to next row, he scanned for any other possibilities and filled in further numbers.
It was at the seventh page of the book when he looked up to see his father, shoes removed and holding his usual leather suitcase, arrive into the living room. He glanced at the clock. It was around eight-thirty. For the last couple of weeks, his father had been coming from the office later than usual. Placing the pencil and book onto the table, Seto headed towards the kitchen as Seiji gave the seven-year-old a tired smile before heading to his room.
When Seiji returned downstairs and entered the kitchen, changed into a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jungle green sweat pants, he noticed the seven-year-old standing on a step stool by the stove. Water boiled in the saucepan. Seto quickly poured the water into a kettle, adding a teabag.
"Seto, I was planning to drink some regular tea. You didn't need—"
"Daddy, chamomile tea is supposed to relax," Seto interrupted, his eyes concentrated on the kettle. "You've got bags around your eyes. That means that you're not sleeping enough. Plus, you've even gone as far as to color-coordinate the dishes yesterday. You only do such unnecessary organization when you're extremely stressed."
Seiji glanced at his elder cousin as she gave him a sour look while she held onto the Mokuba. Hiroko despised the idea of people interfering with her orderliness, feeling that there was no need to improve upon her perfect domestic organization.
"I suppose, but maybe, we should…" Seiji's voice trailed, debating whether to pursue the subject further.
"Well, anyway, Seiji, since you came so late today, I've fed Seto oden." The blue-eyed boy scrunched his nose at the mention of dinner, while Seiji smiled and scooped Mokuba into his arms. "Mokuba's been fed, but he'll probably get hungry again. Anyway, on Saturday, our lady's society is having a program on culture—"
"Um, you see, I might be busy. You know, plans. To do other stuff..." Seiji answered, twirling Mokuba's fingers in a distracting manner.
"You know, Seto needs to have proper exposure to his Japanese heritage. As a father, it is your responsibility—"
"Aunt Hiroko, Daddy's taking us to the Domino City Gardens, so I don't think we'll be able to attend."
"I see." She inspected Seto for a few moments as he poured tea into a cup and added honey. "Well, I suppose exposure to our rich gardens is not a half bad idea. It's certainly one of your more intelligent choices." She nodded curtly towards her younger cousin, sliding the door and shutting it. Seiji listened in silence until he no longer heard the loud gabs of his niece.
Seto placed the cup towards him as he picked it up for sip. The drink was brewed perfectly, tasting sweet without overpowering its natural flavor. He took another swig. Warmth seemed to spread through his body. After placing Mokuba in a baby chair, Seiji seated himself onto one of the wooden chairs of the square table.
"The tea's excellent." Seiji commented, after taking another sip.
"Well, it's not like there's anything else to do. Aunt Hiroko's been showing me a few things, so it helps pass the time."
"Let's keep this between us, but your tea beats your Aunt Hiroko's." A small smile brushed against Seto's lips at Seiji's wink. It seemed that tea's effects were calming the man.
Seiji took a final swig from the cup and placed it onto the saucer. Seto gathered the dishes from the table and headed towards the sink where he turned on the tap.
"Hey, if you break the cup, I'm taking it out of your allowance."
"Daddy, I don't have an allowance."
"Why should you? I'm not paying you to be my son. That's some silly American notion."
Seto rolled his eyes at his father's playful grin while he scrubbed the cup with a sponge. After following with the saucer, he rinsed the cup and saucer through water for a few minutes before turning off the tap and placing the dishes into a drying rack next to the steel sink. Quickly he wiped his hand with a hand cloth on the brown countertop. "It's not I'd do something stupid like that moron, Jun. Do you know that she thinks that the hardware of a computer is the surface that protects it from dirt?"
"Come here." Seto walked towards his father and got an unexpected surprise. He yelped backwards as he touched his forehead delicately. "I don't raise arrogant jerks that look down on others, no matter what how unskilled they are."
"You didn't have to flick me!" He rubbed his forehead, massaging it with his fingers. It had been a light flick, but he hardly appreciated the gesture.
"My dear son, a father's love comes in mysterious forms."
"That sounds like something Mommy would say."
Neither of them said nothing as they looked at each other. The silence awkwardly intruded them.
"I miss her too." Seiji said, after a few moments.
"She was perfect." Seto declared.
Seiji shook his head. "There's one thing you will learn, and it's this. Perfection doesn't exist." The brunette stared confusedly at his father, demanding some sort of explanation. If his mother wasn't perfect, then nobody came close in his opinion.
Seiji sighed. Although Seto may have been much brighter than the average child, he was still exceedingly naive about people. "Don't misunderstand what I'm saying. She's a wonderful person, but it's unrealistic to say that she had no flaws. She exaggerated about everything, got too competitive for her own good, and was too emotional. If she got excited about something, that's all I would hear about for hours. She could go on and on. Sometimes, she'd be so impulsive, do something ridiculous just because she felt like it, and regret it the next day. I remember in our freshman year she drank..." He quieted for a moment, deciding that the seven-year-old had no need to hear about Laura's infamous college days. "So many boys painted her as this perfect package. Even though she was friendly and easy to be around, your mother intimidated them because she was so beautiful. I remember how much they tried to impress Laura. They thought by agreeing with her or bragging about themselves would catch her attention. " Seto quizzically raised an eyebrow at Seiji's tangent, leaving Seiji to give a small smile. Whenever Laura felt like he rambled, her blue eyes flashed with the same expression that Seto held now. "My point is that your mother wasn't perfect. Just because she was beautiful, intelligent, and social, it didn't mean that she made no mistakes, had no weaknesses, or had no other sides to her." She was just a flawed human who wanted to be loved, the Japanese man added quietly to himself. Laura had the talent to bring joy and humor for herself and those who surrounded her; her girlish laughter and her dramatics could light a room full of strangers.
"Still, life's not the same without her." Seto wasn't fully convinced by his father's words.
"It's not," Seiji admitted. "But we can move on. We have to. That doesn't mean that we can't cry when we have too." Seto turned his head to face the sink, trying to hide the moisture in his eyes that threatened to fall. Seiji stood up from the chair and bent to hug Seto, leaving the boy to wrap his arm around the thin man's waist. His sons were his strength and purpose for living, the only things that kept Seiji from falling apart and losing control.
Still, there were several sleepless nights when, no matter how tired he grew, the mere fact that Laura would never be by his side haunted him.
...
Seiji glanced at his watch as he waited at a square table covered in red cloth. It had been over two hours since he had been waiting on the CFO to arrive. When he had checked with the secretar in an earlier call, the woman seemed to insist that she had scheduled him in.
He picked up the brochures and packets, skimming through the pages as he waited. The man seemed so enthusiastic about the amusement park when Seiji spoke to him before.
"Excuse me." Seiji looked up to notice a waiter who appeared to be no older than twenty before him. "Mr. Yamamoto's secretary has called to cancel his meeting."
"Did she just call?"
"Yes. Just now."
"Is there any explanation?"
"She says that her boss is backed in unexpected entanglement, though she insists that you do not need to reschedule. That is all. Would you like to order anything?" Seiji shook his head, while the waiter quickly bowed before leaving.
Seiji glanced at the empty plate and unused silverware before him. Beyond a glass of water, he had nothing. A complete bust.
He rose from his table, his shoulders tensing on the fact that none of his meetings had any success within the last month. Walking past several tables of the five-star restaurant, he noticed a beech wood bar with several wealthy looking men and women, dressed in expensive suits and designer dresses. Looking away from the bar, Seiji examined the exit that was many yards away. He could see the gold-framed door that lead to the exit.
"Nakamura!" The tall man turned towards the source of the familiar voice. To his surprise, he saw Roland with a drink in one hand and waving to him with the other. "Over here!"
"Isono, I'm surprised. Since the restructuring, I didn't think you'd be out of the office."
"It's like you said, Nakamura. I'm twenty-six years old and still need a life. Hey, it's Friday! Thank Gozaburo it's Friday! Right?" He patted an empty bar stool next to him, motioning for his friend to sit. Roland's breath reeked heavily of alcohol, and he seemed more relaxed than usual.
"No thanks. I've got to go home. Plus, I haven't had anything to eat since afternoon."
"Nakamura," Roland insisted, "it's about time that you lived once in a while. Besides, one drink won't hurt you."
Seiji paused for a moment, contemplating the offer. It had certainly been a long time, since his wife's death, that he had any sort of social interaction with adults aside from work. Still, his children were home and would be going to bed soon.
"Come on Nakamura, I want you to meet my friend." The dark-haired man motioned to a statuesque brunette in a red V-necked dress on his left. "Her name is Sophie-Adeline Depaul. She's French." Roland added, pronouncing the words in a false French accent. The beautiful woman beside him waved a quick hello.
It took all of Seiji to stop himself from gasping at the sight of young woman. Sophie was a near split image of Laura, a younger version; she held the same alabaster complexion, and her hair was the same shade of brown. The French woman's hair was parted at her left side, a few inches longer than his wife's. Perhaps, Seiji could stay for a little conversation. After he seated himself onto a wood stool, he leaned against the counter of the bar table, pressing his arms uncomfortably on it. "So…the deal went well?"
"And we still manage to talk about work. Tonight, we forget KaibaCorp. Order. On me." Seiji sighed, turning away from the smiling woman. He supposed that one drink wouldn't hurt. Hell, if anyone needed a drink, he did.
"A rum and coke."
"I'll have another Long Island Iced Tea." A red-haired bartender nodded at Roland's request, grabbing a bottle of rum from nearby cabinet. "Sophie, this is Nakamura Seiji. He works with me."
"It eez a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nakamura." Her full lips parted into a pleasant smile, showing her perfect white teeth. Just like Laura's. Seiji nodded lamely, thinking of no witty banter. Roland took Seiji's silence as a opportunity to whisper something into the beautiful woman's ear, earning a small giggle.
"So Seiji, are you married? You mentioned that you had kids." Roland asked, turning away from the woman as she wrapped her arm around his neck. Seiji vaguely wondered if he should politely 'call it a night' and leave Roland to his 'friend.'
"Well, I was. My wife passed away."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Seiji gave no response, staring awkwardly at the bartender as the man shake a mixer, and watched him pour the concoction into a tall glass. After what seemed like an outstretched period of time, the bartender passed his drink.
"So, how does having a social life feel?" Seiji finally added, after Roland took his own mixed drink.
"It feels very, very good," the jovial man responded. Evidently, none of Seiji's quietness seemed to faze him, but, then again, it might have been the alcohol. "Time for a toast. Let me see. Hmm. How about this? To the night of freedom and lack of responsibility. Cheers!" After the trio bumped their glasses, Seiji took a sip from his drink.
From what he gathered from the conversation, the French woman that Roland introduced was a model with a upcoming photo shoot under a major fashion line. They had met a few weeks ago, according to the French woman, at a restaurant that was similar to this. Her figure was rail thin, Seiji noted as he took another sip. In fact, she was skinnier than himself. The twenty-something-year-old held none of Laura's athletic, toned body.
Her forehead was too high, her face was too round, and her blue-green eyes appeared more catlike than anything else. The French model's personality may vivacious and lively, holding herself with a confidence. Yet Seiji couldn't help but feel that her laugh was too high-pitched when she laughed at Roland's jokes, and her stories needed more dramatic hand waving when she told them.
He was already on his third drink when he realized that he, for the most of the evening, had been comparing some woman that he had just met to his dead wife. Pathetic. He suddenly slid from the stool, steadying himself slightly as he gripped onto it for balance.
"Mr. Nakamura, are you okay?" The Laura-look-alike quickly grabbed the golden-toned man by his arm. "Maybe we should take you to a hotel or something."
Seiji pulled his arm away from her grip. "I'm fine. I, I need to go." He walked with a bit more steadiness, though he couldn't feel help but that the room seemed to spin a bit.
"Nakamura, Maybe she's right. You—"
The older man placed an index finger by his lips. "Shh. I'm good. I'm. An. Adult. You know, Isono," Seiji quickly wrapped an arm around his mustached friend and held a grave expression. "I, a thirty-one-year old, have some important, sage advice to a young man like you. This is the wisdom that I pass down to you. So listen, okay? Seriously. Your life's going to be a million times better if you follow this, oh-kay?" Seiji didn't noticed the Roland's twitching smile as he nodded. "You have to enjoy life. Have fun. It's com-ple-tully, ut-ter-ly unexpected. Why? You never, ever know when you get screwed. That's all for now." He didn't hear the footsteps of the man follow him as he pulled the door knob of the gold-glinted door, with some initial difficulty, and succeeded in opening it.
Quickly, he pulled himself onto the concrete sidewalk, bumping into another passerby. Nearby, a woman in a baby blue sundress was vomiting into a bin, but currently, Seiji absorbed his mind into formulating a brilliant plan on how to reach the train station and sneak into his home. He would take the train and, from there, take a cab to his house. Once he arrived at his home, he could use the back entrance. He stopped walking for moment and paused, panting heavily as his hands gripped on a nearby lamppost. Seto might be awake when he came and see his drunken stupor. The thought ashamed him. Even in his uninhibited state, he wanted nothing less than hide how pathetic he was from his son. The boy needed someone stable, not a drunk man that could barely walk.
It took a few moments to register the loud bangs. At first, he looked up, wondering if there was some movie shoot. He pulled himself towards the source of the noise, barely noticing the white van that drove away. In the dark alley of the ground, Seiji saw a man lying on the ground, hunched against a brick wall. A gray-haired man with a tweed jacket, brown vest, and dark slacks stared away from him, clutching his chest with both hands.
"What's your name?" Seiji slurred.
The elderly man gave no answer, gasping harder than before. Seiji knelt down onto the pavement, noticing a trickle of blood flowing from under the man's wrinkled hands. He moved the man's hands, noticing blood splattered over a deep wound. "What's your name?" Seiji repeated, with even more firmness.
"Murderer." The man grabbed Seiji's overcoat, strongly tugging it towards him and crying weakly. "Gozaburo. Murderer." The man coughed, heaving further. He loosened his grip from Seiji and concentrated on breathing.
Seiji barely noticed the blood that fell onto his own shirt or the footsteps of his friend and the French woman. When the sirens of the ambulance and police arrived and a cop interrogated him, he mentioned that he heard a car drive by, had seen nothing else, knew nothing about victim, and gave several unclear, drunken answers to the man's several probing questions. The uniformed man seemed to find the process to be annoying and useless and left Seiji to be.
There was no mention of the tweed jacket man's words, the desperate look that he expressed, or the name that he uttered. Something in Seiji stopped him from proclaiming these facts to the police, whether it was fear or common sense he could not tell. He left himself to unpleasant thoughts of the tweed jacket man's fate and, the last person that he wanted to mull over on a Friday evening, Gozaburo Kaiba.
One of you mentioned that you didn't see Gozaburo as a womanizer, and I completely agree. I don't see him as some womanizing man that chases or goes after many. I just see as someone, who enjoys seeing others squirm and having complete control, which would extend to women as well, if he happened to be interested.
To MythCreatorWriter, I always adore your reviews. I think I've told you this before, but oh well. I personally believe that Seto could solve a Rubik's cube because he has a lot of patience to solve things, like that Egyptian puzzle from Battle City. I feel like a dork for remembering that. It took a while to get used to writing kid Seto, but I think it helped to evolve him from being a baby to a kid. By the time I was writing him as a child, I was already used to it.
To evil sasuke girl, I'm glad that you enjoyed it. Hope I updated fast enough.
To Sakura Takanouchi, in many ways, I enjoy writing the later chapters because there isn't a huge jump in a time, though this chapter jumps a bit. I figured Seto's pretty anti-social, so it wouldn't be a huge jump if he didn't have any real friends as a kid. I always like your reviews and how much thought you put into them.
To ml101, I'm glad you like Roland. I wanted to show a different side from other than the nervous assistant, something that Seto probably wouldn't see, since he's his boss. As for Isono, it's his Japanese man, so that's where I got it from.
To Ninja Master Kenny, Seiji compartmentalizes a lot of his issues, so I think that's why he's able to deal with his stress. Writing Gozaburo, even though he's absolutely terrible human being is interesting for me, so I'm glad you enjoyed that scene with Laura and him.
To Demented Insane Spirit, I didn't think of any character in particular when I named Seiji, though I do adore Whispers of the Heart. I saw that movie after I created Seiji. If any character inspired Seiji, it would be Koyuki from Beck, though, to be honest, Seiji doesn't have much in common with him.
To Noc and NC, you might be right about a certain name that was mentioned in the previous chapter, but how pivotal the role is still rocky. I've got way too many ideas for this story about certain parts, which can be as dangerous as writer's block in some ways. I always love your reviews and hope you can update Catch and Fall when you can.
To The Duelist's Heiress, I'm glad that you liked the chapter.
To Zoelle, I'm happy that you liked Roland. He doesn't get much attention, so I felt he need some screen time.
To HaK(hateandkill_d), I hope everything works out. I never expected that anyone would like this story much because it probably breaks some unspoken OC rule. As for Roland, I wanted to add a canon character because I wanted to use a canon character that would be present in Seto's life in some way without being related to the Yugi and gang.
To Unnamed Person, I'm glad that you're enjoying the story and hope that my story can continue to entertain you.
To Atem's Sister Atea, I'm glad you enjoyed the story. I hope I updated soon enough. Hope you continue to enjoy.