The original "Paved with Good Intentions" story ended up being about healing. I don't know if I intended for that to be the case when I started, in fact I'm pretty sure I didn't, but that's how it all wound up.
Sometimes, it's the case here, too.
.
It was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a game, a bonding activity, a showcase of Seto's best work in years. He'd been prepping the pods for weeks to make sure everything was perfect. He'd gone out of his way to make a special dinner for afterward. He'd set them all up with drinks and snacks and he'd scheduled everything down to the moment, because that's just how he always did everything.
Mokuba had been excited; of course he had been. He'd already seen what his brother could do when given full creative freedom. Few people thought of Seto Kaiba as an artist, but when you saw what he did with his own hologram technology, it was impossible to think of him as anything else. Mokuba had been hyping himself up for a once-in-a-lifetime experience all week, and it had taken every ounce of willpower to focus on anything related to school the entire time.
Even Noa had been excited. How could he not be? He was the one who didn't know what he was getting into. He'd never experienced one of Seto's "Saturday Specials" before, he didn't know what it was like to be the star of his own action movie. And, after all, both his brothers had been talking so excitedly about it for so long, so how could he not react to that kind of environment?
There'd been a part of Mokuba, a distant part, that was disappointed when Seto turned off the projectors and told his brothers to come out. But now, as he watched Noa stare sightlessly at the ceiling and breathe so quickly, so shallowly, that it sounded like nothing so much as sobbing . . . he couldn't hold onto any such feeling.
Seto knelt beside Noa, holding his right hand, watching in stone silence.
Sausage padded into the room, so silent that Mokuba thought he was seeing things at first. The little cat approached Noa curiously, sniffing, then promptly settled onto Noa's chest and curled up. Mokuba reached out, an apology already halfway out of his mouth, when he heard purring.
Slowly, so slowly, Noa's breathing slowed down.
Slowly, so slowly, awareness returned to his face.
He lifted a hand and absently put a hand on the cat's back.
Seto, for his part, smiled. "There we are," he said, softly, his voice rumbling.
Noa stared at Seto like he'd never seen him before. "A-Aniue?"
"Welcome back," Seto said.
"I don't . . . I . . . what happened?"
"Unless I miss my guess," Seto said, "you had a panic attack."
Petting Sausage without being conscious of it, Noa's face fell. ". . . Oh."
"I think this tech might not agree with you, kiddo," Seto said. "After what you've dealt with in your life, I don't that's especially surprising." His brow creased. "I ought to have anticipated this."
Noa looked over at Mokuba. "I'm . . . I'm sorry," he said. "I ruined everything."
Mokuba shook his head. "No, no, you absolutely did not. It's all right."
"It's not, though. You've been so excited about this."
"It's not your fault," Mokuba said.
"Isn't it?" Noa looked halfway between afraid and angry. "If I wasn't so pathetic—"
"That's enough of that," Seto cut in, his voice still soft, still quiet, but as firm as it ever was. "The first rule of this house is that no one talks about my family like that." He waited a beat. "That includes my family. You're not pathetic. You're in recovery. Your body is telling you what your limits are, and it's vitally important for you to listen."
Noa frowned. He sat up, with only minimal help from Seto. Sausage slid down from Noa's chest to his lap and didn't stop purring. "I'm trying to imagine Chichiue saying something like that," he murmured. "I can't."
"No," Seto agreed, "I don't imagine you can. I think he would have choked if he'd tried."
Mokuba grinned. "It's a new era, and we make the rules now," he said. He turned his attention to Seto. "What do you think, Niisama? Movie night?"
"It occurs to me that our newest arrival has missed out on a good ten or so years of our industry's development," Seto said, thoughtfully. "Rather than force him into the bleeding edge, I think we might be better served to show him the ropes."
Noa blinked owlishly. Mokuba's eyes sparkled.
"What ropes?" Noa asked.
"The Kaiba Corporation is no longer concerned with military technology," Seto said. "You are surely aware of that. But I don't think it's occurred to anyone to tell you what it is we actually do now. So I think we ought to spend this weekend . . . acclimating you."
"What's the last videogame you can remember playing?" Mokuba asked.
"Um . . . Excitebike? I think? It had little motorcycle guys."
"Oh-ho," Mokuba murmured to himself. "Oh, this is going to be excellent."
"Now, then," Seto said. "I'm going to recommend that you head to your room and lay down for now." Noa started to protest, then saw Seto's face and stopped. "You've just used up entirely too much energy. A nap will serve you better than anything right now, except perhaps a warm bath. You go on, turn on some quiet music. Let your body decompress. Mokuba and I will set up a new program for the weekend."
"Are you . . . are you sure?"
"Absolutely," Mokuba said, all disappointment over the change of plans forgotten in a flash of inspiration, realizing just what he was going to be able to show his brother, just how much ground there was to cover for him to understand what it was they did. "Rest up. It's gonna be great."
"O-Okay."
Mokuba had to pluck up the cat—who protested quite indignantly—so that Noa could stand up.
He stopped in the doorway. Turned to face his brothers.
"Things really are different here now. Aren't they?"
Seto nodded. "They absolutely are."
Noa found a smile and tried not to cry.
