As I write this, it is October the 24th in my time zone. As I post this, it should be October 25th in my time zone, which makes it Seto's birthday. If we look at the original release of the manga in 1996, wherein Seto is 15, we can extrapolate that he was born in 1981.
Seto turns 33 today.
Now, this chapter isn't specifically celebrating that event, as it would very specifically advance the timeline of this series, and I'm not interested in doing that just yet. And, obviously, I'm not using the "real" timeline of the series, considering Seto is only 20 years old as of the current chapters.
But, I've been posting a lot of another project recently, "Light a Candle for the Prince," which is a pretty dark take on the YGO universe, so I wanted to take a little break from that. I wanted to write something happy.
Seto's birthday seemed like a decent excuse.
October 25th is also the official date of Extra Life 2014, a charity fundraising event for gamers, benefiting the Children's Miracle Network hospitals. Look it up if you're interested in the event. I highly recommend it. Seto would approve supporting charities for children, after all, wouldn't he?
.
"Hope I'm not being forward or anything, but . . . y'ever get any flak for runnin' a game company, boss? I mean, I guess of course you do, but I mean, like . . . how bad is it?"
Seto Kaiba watched a gaggle of eight-year-olds race across the Domino Children's Home soccer field; they were playing a particularly intense game of Don't Let the Balloon Touch the Ground™. Seto smirked, because it was in his nature to smirk, and he eyed Jennie Lorwell keenly. He said, "Are you referring to the fact that I am wasting my time and talents on a pointless pursuit, and should be ashamed of myself for perpetuating an industry that feeds on children and desensitizes them to sex and violence?"
Jennie smirked in turn. "Yeah. Basically."
"I've received death threats," Seto murmured, "because apparently irony is lost on some of my . . . fringe customers. People have called for me to debate the nature of modern gaming culture on every talk show in existence."
"And the only one you agreed to do was The Colbert Report," Joanna Lorwell, sitting on Seto's other side, cut in suddenly.
"Publicity," Seto said, shrugging. "I haven't the time nor the desire to prove my case to the masses anymore. I have enough work on my hands as it is. If a public appearance doesn't help the company in some way, I refuse to make it."
"You're an inventor, right?" Joanna asked. "Engineer? You've created the most revolutionary holographic imaging technology in existence. I suppose some people are, well, disappointed that you've devoted your time to ensuring that it be put to use through videogames."
Seto raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you belong to that particular camp, Miss Lorwell. In which case I would tell you the same thing I have told to everyone else to have tossed that particular rose at my feet: I created Solid Vision for a very specific reason. Without that reason, it would not exist. And as to whether that reason is noble enough? Self-sacrificing enough? Worldly enough? I honestly don't care. That isn't my problem."
Joanna blinked. ". . . Well, I'll say this: it's refreshing to hear that kind of honesty, at least."
"I serve as an example, to anyone who cares to pay attention, of someone who had a plan for his life, and executed it. That is the end of my story, as far as I am concerned."
"It's just . . . I mean, I don't mean to discredit you. It's just that, there are more—well, I'm sorry, but worthwhile pursuits you could be chasing, with the kinds of resources you have."
Seto's face screwed up into something savage, before he forced it back to cold neutrality. Joanna didn't notice.
"Can't be too hard on 'im, Sissy," came a new voice, as Charlie Lorwell came sauntering up to the other three with a soda in one hand and a corn dog in the other. "You don't get much more philanthropic than a guy who tears down a private military arms conglomerate, brick by brick, and rebuilds it into a company devoted to helping children. 'Sides, have you seen that theme park?"
Joanna frowned. ". . . Okay. That's a very good point. I'll grant you that."
Jennie hopped down from her perch—she'd been squatting on the picnic table like a bird of prey—and whirled around with her arms spread out. "To say nothing of this place," she said. "And then you got all the folks raising money for charity, using KC as a sounding board. And I think, yes-indeedy-I-do, that you're partnering with a bunch of teaching hospitals to try and make Solid Vision a new tool for teaching surgery. Right?"
Seto nodded imperially. "Correct."
Joanna looked stunned. She said, softly and more to herself than anyone else, "That's brilliant."
"I know, right?"
"Seem pretty well-informed for a juvenile delinquent," Charlie said, ruffling his sister's bright green Mohawk. Jennie stuck out her tongue, but she was grinning fit to split her face. "Ever thought of going on tour with us?" Charlie asked. "Ya got the look."
"Everybody knows the keyboardist is the charity case," Jennie said, crossing her arms. "I don't want your blood money."
"Your brother is the vice-president of your company, isn't he?" Joanna asked suddenly.
Seto looked at her. "Yes. He is." A soccer ball rolled over to their table. Seto stood up and snapped a sudden kick that sent the toy rocketing back straight into the arms of one of the children who'd been playing with it. The rest of the group threw up their arms and cheered.
Seto smirked again as he sat back down.
"Do you worry, sometimes? About what that kind of responsibility might do to him? He's only eleven, and he's already got a pretty big responsibility. You know. Given that he should be in sixth grade right now."
"I worry quite often," Seto said, "but right now I see no reason to intervene. He's done well in managing his time and his responsibilities on both fronts, so far. I have any number of employees three times his age who could learn from his example."
"Cool your jets, Mama Bear," Jennie said. "He's still battin' an A in your class, isn't he? And I bet he's doin' just fine in his other classes, too."
Seto's smirk softened into something resembling a genuine smile. "He is."
"Kid's a regular Superman," Charlie said, chomping down on his corn dog. After he finished chewing, he held it up like a scepter. "A paragon for the Dork Ages. Ain't that right, big man?"
Seto winked.
He looked over and watched as Kristine Hathaway made her way across the yard with a stack of papers in her hands. Seto stood up. Kristine smiled as she approached and said, "Everything's in order, Mister President. Thank you so much for everything." She handed Seto half of the sheets in her hands. "Those are your copies. Feel free to look them over if you like. But all in all, I think we're good to go."
Seto shook Kristine's hand when she offered it. "Happy to be of service," he said, in all sincerity.
He then watched as Daniel Elliot came out, with a bouncy, bubbly Mokuba Kaiba keeping pace with him, somehow, in spite of the fact that he was waving his arms in every direction like he was trying to fly.
Mokuba held a single sheet of paper in one hand.
Even from this distance, everyone could see the grin on his face.
When Mokuba saw his brother, he shot forward like a track star and nearly barreled into him. "Niisama! Niisama Niisama Niisama!"
"Yes, Mokuba," Seto said fondly. "I'm well aware of who I am. What is it?"
Mokuba waved the sheet of paper around. "It's crazy! It's crazy it's stupid it's amazing! I can't . . . I can't . . . !"
Seto frowned. "Mokuba . . . have you slept?"
"Nope!" Mokuba cried happily. "Remember? Yesterday was the Extra Life thing! Remember? I've been up for—well, a long time. Anyway! That's not important! Look at this! Look!"
He finally calmed down enough to hand his brother the paper.
Seto took it, ignoring the stern look Joanna Lorwell was giving him.
Seto read quickly . . . then read again.
His mouth opened slightly. "Is this . . . this is . . . from a single event?"
Mokuba was beaming. "Uh-huh!"
"Twenty-four hours," Seto said. "You . . . you did this in one day."
"Uh-huh! Well . . . me, and Fox, and Madam, and everybody!"
A smile began to work its way onto Seto's face. He vaguely handed the sheet of paper to someone on his right. Joanna took it. Seto knelt down in front of his brother, and cradled the boy's head in his hands.
"Mokuba . . . you . . ." He gave up, and pulled his brother into a hug. Mokuba was laughing, and he threw his arms around Seto and seemed to be fighting the urge to do a little dance. "You magnificent little miracle. I love you." Seto kissed his brother's forehead.
"What . . . is this?" Joanna asked.
Mokuba extricated himself from his brother, blushing slightly at Seto's show of affection, but not entirely displeased. "Every year, there's this event. For gamers all over. It's like a marathon or something, where you raise money. And what you do is, you play games for twenty-four hours, and try to raise as much as you can. For kids' hospitals. I wanted to do it this year, and Niisama said it was okay, so . . . so I did it! And—and—!"
"What do you mean?" Charlie asked. "Like, you record yourself playin' games, and people donate money to charity if they like what they see? That kinda deal?"
"Uh-huh!"
"Sweet gig, little man. Sounds cool."
"So how much did you raise?" Jennie asked. She looked at her sister.
Joanna looked up from the sheet of paper, clearly dumbfounded.
She said, slowly, ". . . Five-hundred thousand, six hundred and forty dollars."
Charlie's jaw unhinged. "Holy . . . fuck."
"Half a million dollars?!" Kristine asked. "You raised half a million dollars for charity in one day? By yourself. Playing games."
Mokuba hopped up and down, grinning from ear to ear. "Uh-huh! Uh-huh!"
Joanna Lorwell lowered the sheet of paper, and smiled. "Um . . . that stuff I said about worthwhile pursuits? Pretend I never said anything."
Seto stood up, and ruffled his brother's hair. "Good work, baby brother."
Mokuba, bouncing on the balls of his feet, giggled maniacally.
Seto's smile faltered.
". . . Let's get you to bed before you start hallucinating."
