I experiment a lot. With voice, with narrative, with character. Ever since I started the "Good Intentions" series, it's been in my mind that enough time has passed since the end of the main series that the character dynamics have evolved, and it gives me the excuse to play with things a bit.

It's been mentioned before that it's odd, but interesting, that Seto and Joey are something vaguely resembling friends. From the word go, this has been the rule for me. It just made sense. But considering the series itself, it is kind of strange.

I finally decided I should figure things out. So I asked Joey about it.

This is what he had to say:


You hear stories about "broken families." They like to use that word, professors and psychoanalysts and all those academic types. Broken. Like there's no fixing them. And maybe they got a point, when you stop and consider statistics.

You hear about how abuse is cyclical, and how the abused grow up to be abusers. Child molesters? Molested. Guy who beats on his kid? Beaten. Neglectful mom? Neglected. It's the only world they know. It's the only way they know how to live. Now, I got a lot of sympathy for that way of doing things. Grew up in a broken home all my own. Dad, drunk so much it was a religion—thou shalt keep holy the fuckin' gin—and Mom? Don't get me started on Mom; I'll never stop. Bet you hear stories, 'cuz that's all this ends up turning into is stories, about how kids who get their ass handed to 'em on a regular basis—let's say they got a dad, like mine, talked with his fists, right? These kids, they end up hating their mom, the one who let it happen, more than they hate the one doing it. Guess I'm one o' those.

I hate my mother. Usually I don't have enough give-a-fuck in me to hate people, 'cuz I figure if they're low enough on my list to fit the bill for hatin', they aren't worth the time and effort to bother. Not Mom. Maybe some part of me still misses her, still wants her around. Just enough rainbow to make the truth sting like a bitch. Like—you eat sushi? Say you got yourself a roll. Good old California Roll, maybe, 'cuz you know. You're classy. And you dip just a tiny corner of it in soy sauce. Only the rice sucks up just a little too much. You can still taste the avocado 'n the crab flavor, you still got the rest o' the rice, and somehow that just makes the salt in the soy sauce that much more disgusting.

Whatever. So I suck at metaphors. But it's like that.

So yeah, I guess you could say I was abused. And I followed your standard trajectory. That the right word? Trajectory? I bet it isn't. Anyway, I pulled your typical shit. Skipped class, 'cuz what the fuck? Stole shit from convenience stores, got all up in that "urban violence" and shit. Oh, yeah, I was a prince. I buried myself in this shit, because why not?

See, that's how you get those people who flat-out hate their kids. Blame 'em for shit they didn't do. Like, say I was still in a gang, right? And I got into it with a girl, and she got pregnant. Let's say I'm saddled with a kid at fifteen, and I'm still this gutter-punk with a chip on my shoulder so big it's a goddamn slab. The fuck? Like I need this shit? What the—what a bitch for havin' a fuckin' kid in the first damn place, what's she thinkin'? And expectin' me to deal with it, too? Hey, I was in it for a free fuck, not a goddamn life choice.

I'd resent the hell outta that kid. With every little sniveling part of my arrogant, self-absorbed, hate-filled heart. Would I hurt him? Or her? Would I yell at my kid for ruinin' my life 'n saddling me with a job at a fucking convenience store instead of the career I had planned out?

Dunno. My dad did. So, probably. Seems destined. Only deal left in the deck at that point. What the hell else was gonna happen? You start thinkin' that way, you start puttin' the blame off the ones who did it. Off the dad who drinks himself stupid 'n breaks his daughter's wrist. Off the mom who screams her head off 'cuz her dim-as-a-coatrack son dropped a plate and broke it on the kitchen floor. Or whatever. Not like I got experience with this shit. What do I know?

And then…you get this guy. This fucking guy, who you hate for a long-ass time 'cuz he reminds you of the shithole your self-esteem used to be, and you think: what the fuck's his excuse? Yeah, sure, I'm an asshole, but I grew up in a neighborhood two foreclosures short of a landfill with a mom who hated me for not being the little girl she wanted and a dad who hated me 'cuz fuck him I don't care why. Here's this rich fuck, total silver-spoon preppy arrogant bitch. What the hell's he got to feel neglected about?

You know who I'm talkin' about. Don't act like you don't. You thought it, too. You've looked at his face on TV, all pissed off 'n ready to glare you straight into hell, and you think: what's his game? Where's he get off pretendin' like he's got real problems?

I know. I've been there.

But that's the thing about that guy. He's actually a classic case. Picture it: you ain't me, so you got a mom who knows how a mom's s'posed to act. Cheap shot, I know, let's start over. Say you got a mom who supports you. Smart, pretty, real classy. And say you got a blue-collar sorta dad. Just a good ol' boy, dresses in flannel an' blue-jeans. He ain't too bright, but he's a soldier. Just puts his head down 'n gets to work, by God.

And say, you're not too well off. Sure, you ain't starvin', but definitely not gonna get your face on tabloids any time soon. You aren't gonna rise through the ranks. And say Mom gets pregnant, and they're worried, Mom 'n Dad both, but you…well, hell, that's a new baby brother or sister! Ain't that somethin'?

They have the baby, but there's complications, and Mom…well, damn. Mom don't make it. Wouldn't figure there'd be a lot of that, death from childbirth in this day 'n age. But that's just how things go. Dad can't take it. Dad just drops off. He picks up another job, works from five 'til nine, don't talk to nobody. Who's gonna watch the baby? Who's gonna feed the baby, wash the baby, change the baby? No way you can afford a nanny. It's down to you.

Then, say Dad dies, because fuck you. Well, now what? Now, it's godparents. But, surprise! They're fuckwits. Inheritance? Psh, keep dreamin'. They need money to support you, you ungrateful little snot. Do you even know how hard it is to provide for you? Do you even know how much of an inconvenience it is to be saddled with your ass?

Ah—baby. Didn't forget the baby, did you? Yeah, he still needs things. Blankies and bah-bahs and all that jazz, and don't even think about asking anybody to change diapers for you. You think this is a hotel? Who's gonna teach the baby how to read? Not your godparents. They have their own problems, like the fact that they can't read in the first damn place.

Oh, it's just so hard. Too hard. There just isn't enough money to keep you. How are they ever going to afford a new car and a vacation to Miami if you're still around, mooching off them like some parasite? You selfish little—

Off to the orphanage with you! Off to a privately-run shithole with a director that fucking hates his job, and a bunch of traumatized, budding little sociopaths just waiting to show you how the hierarchy goes. What? Staff? Tch. What do you think they're going to do to help you? Can't you see how haggard they are? Their job is hard enough without you making demands for things like safety.

And then—ready for this? You find your ticket out! It's the head-honcho of the free fucking world! This rich guy, coming over to your little orphanage to donate toys and blankets and things like that. Why, if he adopted you, surely it'd be easy street. Right? I mean, what else could the world honestly throw at you?

…How 'bout a cold-blooded tyrant? How 'bout a butler whose entire job in life is to beat you into shape?

Okay, so maybe this is all overwhelming. I'm sure as hell losing track of things. Let's recap, keeping in mind that I was talking about child abuse and how it's cyclical. Right?

So, Mom dies giving childbirth. Reason one to hate the baby.

Dad loses all semblance of stability and throws himself into his work, leaving you to pick up the pieces. Reason two to hate the baby.

Godparents can't afford to keep you but just can't stand the thought of separating you, so off you go to the orphanage. Reason three to hate the baby.

Older kids hate cutesy little brats and pick on him incessantly, stealing his toys and kicking sand at him; said cutesy little brat runs to you, and you have to put your neck out to protect him. Reason four to hate the baby.

You find your ticket out, and your new dad ends up being a fucking robot. He doesn't give a flying fuck about the other one, and you end up defending your sibling yet again, and you end up beaten, slapped, screamed at, driven to exhaustion, as punishment. Reasons five, six, seven, eight to hate the baby.

Throw all of that into a pot, and you've got a sure thing, right? Surely, that kid's gonna end up on the brunt end of some serious hurtin'. He ruined your fucking life! All the shit you've put up with has been because of, or for, him. How are you honestly gonna stop yourself from taking that out on him? I mean, seriously!

But you know what happened? With the guy who actually went through all that shit? He loves that baby. Goddamn, he loves that baby. He's traumatized, he's bitter, he's got PTSD comin' out his ears, he's pissed, he came out of that shithole tempered and fucking furious, but you know what? Still loves that baby.

Resentment? Jealousy? Exasperation? Hatred?

Battin' zero. Still loves that baby.

So, you ever wanna know why I let all the little shit slide now, why I don't get up in arms with him, why I'm comin' seriously, dangerously close to liking that arrogant son of a bitch? That's why. Because statistically, Seto Kaiba should have come out as the single-most abusive parent of his entire goddamn generation. He has every reason, justified or not, to smack the shit out of his kid brother…

And he doesn't. He loves that little guy so much it makes my heart ache.

Seto Kaiba—regardless of every goddamn thing I wanna punch his fucking teeth out for—broke the cycle. The world said, "I'm going to make you hate this kid, with every single, solitary, goddamn thing I have. There's no way you're ever going to love him."

And Seto Kaiba said, "Fuck you. Watch me."