This was written while eating a late-night dinner at my local Subway. Why is this important? Probably isn't. I was just making conversation. Hey, how 'bout that hot topic on the news? Yeah, that's seriously crazy, right? Right. Yeah.
Seto has severe Daddy issues. He won't admit it, but we all know it's true.
This explores one of the many, many reasons why.
Mokuba didn't call for his father.
He never called for his father. Everyone knew it. His preschool class knew it; the neighbors knew it; the mailman knew it; even Kohaku Yagami's coworkers, who didn't dare to pry into his personal life after the time he'd nearly assaulted George Rowell with a framing hammer, knew it.
To little Mokuba, who understood as much about the world as a goldfish about biology, the only parent he had was called a "bwudder." His teacher, Mister Bridge, had tried to explain the difference. But he'd only tried once. Mokuba had no idea what teach-teach was talking about when he said, "Dad." And when Mokuba asked teach-teach to 'spwain, it all came back to bwudder. "Who tucks you in at night?" he'd asked.
"Bwudder do that. Bwudder tuck bed, tell stowy."
"Who makes your breakfast in the morning."
"Bwudder make that."
"Lunch? Dinner?"
"Bwudder cook all kinds food."
"Your homework? Does your brother help you with that, too?"
"Uh-huh."
It didn't escape Mister Bridge's notice that it wasn't Kohaku who walked into the classroom at the end of each day. It was young Seto, who was already attending high-school level classes at eleven years old. Young Seto, who talked to Mister Bridge about lessons and homework and field trips.
One day, Mister Bridge stopped the two brothers as they were packing up and asked to speak to their father; was he outside in the car, waiting for them? "No," said Seto, "he's working. I can give you his manager's phone number if you want. But I need to get Mokuba home. Come on, Mokie. Get your pack on. Let's go."
"Home. Take pack-pack home."
"That's right." Seto smiled and ruffled the small boy's messy black hair. He held out a hand, and Mokuba took it immediately, grinning from ear to tiny ear. "Come on."
"Ah…Seto?" Mister Bridge said, holding up a hand of his own. "Hold on a moment. Do you want me to get a bus for you? Or…give you a ride home myself?" He wasn't sure why he was making such an offer, and knew it wouldn't do any good as soon as he got a good look at Seto's face.
"We don't live that far away," Seto said dismissively. "Thank you, Mister Bridge, sir, but I don't trust you enough to accept a ride. I barely know you." He bowed deeply. "I'm sorry, sir. I know how rude that sounds."
"Bwudder," Mokuba said, tugging on his elder brother's sleeve and looking concerned. "He good guy. Good guy, bwudder. We twust him."
"Sorry, Mokie."
"I wa' car. Car go fast. No tired." Mokuba pouted for a moment, but when Seto didn't say anything, he looked up and added a hasty, wheedling, "Pwease?"
"No, Mokuba," Seto declared in a tone of quiet finality. Mokuba lowered his head. "I'm sorry, little guy. Come on. I'll take you to the park, okay?" Mokuba's little face brightened immediately. "How would that be?"
"Park? We go park? Park!"
"Yes. Come on, baby brother. Let's go to the park."
"Yay! Park!" Mokuba cried ecstatically.
Seto was still smiling. But it wasn't the smile of an older boy who intended to play right alongside his brother for a while; it was the smile of a doting parent. A smile to be worn as he sat on a bench nearby and watched overt the boy as he clambered up the ladder for a ride on the slide, or climbed on the jungle gym or tried to figure out how a merry-go-round worked.
It was the smile that Kohaku Yagami never wore.
Absurdly, Edward Bridge wondered for a moment if Seto had stolen it.
If you take a look at the second chapter of the original Good Intentions, you'll know that I subscribe to the compound theory that—one—Seto's mother died shortly after giving birth to Mokuba and—two—Seto's father (who was dependent on his wife for love, support, and self-worth) shut down emotionally and couldn't bring himself to care for, or even about, Mokuba once that happened.
Seto took over the post, and as he grew into it he began to appreciate that what his father had done wasn't an insult so much as a blessing; by leaving the raising of Mokuba to his firstborn, Kohaku gave him something extremely important: personal fulfillment. Was it intentional? I doubt it. Was it healthy? Surely not.
But did it work out for the best?
Probably.
