Do I know when this series takes place, in terms of the "Good Intentions" timeline?
Absolutely not.
This whole thing was started as a way for me to explore little snippets of ideas that I had while writing the main story, but didn't have room for. And I'm not going to pretend I ever had any sort of actual plan. I don't think I've ever had a plan for a single story I've ever written.
If it seems like I know what I'm doing, know that it's a smokescreen.
I have no idea what's going on.
1.
The first time Huan, Aisha, and Lee were invited to the Kaiba Estate, it was an event unlike any seen on the grounds. While there was some argument to be made that—as coach of the East Rivers Middle School dueling club—they were all here at Seto's behest, it was a weak argument. It was the first time Mokuba had had so many friends his own age come over for a party, and he'd been wired to the rafters for a week about it.
Rebecca and Connor acted as old hands, helping Mokuba get the others acclimated to being in such an . . . opulent residence. Seto, for his part, was busy setting out snacks and drinks for his guests; the house staff had been given the weekend off—not so much to pretend like the Kaibas lived alone, so much as to relieve them of the rampant chaos that came from dealing with six middle-schoolers in the same space.
Noa was spending the next few days in a hotel.
"I want to meet your friends," he'd said, when Mokuba brought up the idea, "I really do, but I—I don't think I can . . . I don't."
"It's cool," Mokuba said. "You've technically only been here for, what, two weeks? We'll work up to it." He knew well enough that he was the extrovert of his family. Seto had had more than enough practice dealing with strangers that his natural aversion to them was hidden most of the time.
Noa, not so much.
"We'll tell them you're back at the hospital," Seto offered. "Busy with therapy." This was his way of reminding Noa to work on his exercises and ensure that his—for all intents and purposes—new body didn't run into too many complications thanks to the fact that Noa hadn't actually been in control of a physical body for well over ten years.
He was healthy enough, the magic had seen fit to offer them that much at least, but there was no way that such a drastic change to one's life as physically existing for the first time in a decade wasn't going to have . . . problems.
"I hope your brother feels better soon," Aisha said, when the subject of Noa came up.
"That's wild, finding out you have another brother all of a sudden like that!" said Lee.
"Yeah," Mokuba offered. "Nobody ever told me anything about him."
"Why would your . . . uh . . . why did the old Mister Kaiba keep him a secret?" Connor wondered.
"Who knows," Mokuba offered. "That man was a fucking basket case."
Aisha and Huan, who lived in strict no-cursing homes, gasped.
". . . Sorry," Mokuba said.
"For the record," Seto put in, setting out a platter of crackers and cheese, "I don't care which four-letter words you use. But I'd recommend sticking to your own rules such that you don't get into the habit of language that isn't permitted at home. I won't be held responsible for your shenanigans."
"Yes, sir," said Aisha, who always took everything Seto said supremely seriously.
Seto rolled his eyes. "Sir, she says," he said under his breath.
Mokuba clapped his hands together, sharply. "Okay," he said. "Important order of business for later. How familiar is everybody with the Cthulhu Mythos?"
2.
Noa sat in his hotel room, his gaze locked on the laptop screen where the game Seto had put together for his dueling club was streaming from an expertly-placed camera.
"So that Noa can still be here, even though he's busy," Mokuba had said, and his friends all agreed. They'd each waved at the camera and introduced themselves, making Noa feel something he didn't think he'd ever felt before, not in that house and certainly not in this hotel, which had also once belonged to his father.
He felt like he belonged.
One of Roland Ackerman's security operatives, a young woman named Lia, knocked on the door. "Master Noa," came her voice from the hallway. "Dinner's here."
Noa hopped off his chair and padded across the room in his socks. He took the parcel Lia offered him and bowed. "Thank you, Miss Lia," he said quietly. He checked the bag. "Oh. Wow. I didn't think the large curly fry would be this big." He pulled out an entirely separate container. "Um. Would you, um. Would you like to share these with me? I don't think I should eat all this."
Lia blinked. "Oh. Um. Certainly, Master Noa. Thank you." Noa nodded, hurried over to the desk where he'd been sitting and set out a napkin. He piled his own fries onto it, then brought the container—still more than half-full—back to Lia. He reached back into the bag and found some little packets of sauce and tucked them inside.
"Here you go," Noa said.
Lia smiled. "Thank you, Master Noa," she said again.
"You're welcome, Miss Lia."
Lia took hold of the door's handle. "My shift's up, so I'll be heading out. August will be here tonight if you need anything. Good night."
"'Night."
Lia shut the door, and Noa went back to watching the game; the thought occurred to him that his father would have collapsed from an aneurysm if he could see how the family was run these days. How familiar the house staff was. How they allowed him to eat fast food of all things.
He sipped at his Vanilla Coke and smiled to himself.
He watched Mokuba laugh so hard that he fell out of his chair, while Seto smirked at him and wove some kind of design with the hologram projectors on his wrists.
"I have a question," Huan said once the laughter died down. "How does she know she has a thousand young? Did she count? Why did she stop at a thousand? It seems kind of arbitrary."
A spirited argument about the specifics of Lovecraftian mythology took over the room for the next half-hour, and Noa did his best to ignore the burning at the backs of his eyes.
"Our family's better than it's ever been, Chichiue."
