Another simple idea, this one prompted by a post I saw. And, like all prompts based on random things I see, I decided to do some digging and work out what else I could glean from it. I think I learned some stuff about my favorite character today.

Maybe.

Probably?

Who knows.

.

"Um." Kiko looked well and thoroughly out of sorts. "Bocchan? What, if I may ask, the hell is going on?"

Mokuba laughed. "You weren't around last year around now, were you?" She shook her head. "It's okay. Nothing to worry about. Standard procedure." He watched the house staff mill about the house, gathering and moving any number of boxes and bags and canned foods from the kitchen and setting them any number of places according to some internal logic that Kiko didn't understand in the slightest.

"Is this some kind of charity stunt?" Kiko asked. "A food drive?"

"Kind of," Mokuba said. He gestured to one pile. "Those there are going to a food bank." He gestured to another. "This stuff the staff is taking home." He gestured to a third. "This here is going back into the pantries, just . . . gotta organize everything. You know."

"I see." Kiko still looked confused. "Did something particular bring this on?"

Mokuba was grinning. "You'll find out," he said, eyes sparkling.

It was only the fact that Mokuba was obviously having fun at her expense that kept Kiko from asking for more information; she had wondered if there was some kind of infestation going on, or maybe a renovation. Perhaps Seto was planning on restyling the ground floor, and had chosen the kitchen first because it was the heart of the house.

But there was no construction crew, no exterminator, nothing that indicated anything was out of place right now. Just a whole mess of food changing hands and getting piled into the front parlor.

"Niisama does a lot for the city," Mokuba mused, idly, and Kiko wasn't even sure he was talking to her. "He gives to charity, he founds charities, he puts a lot into . . . a whole bunch of things." He looked over. "You know there's no lunch debt for Domino's schools? None of them. Because Niisama pays it all. 'No child in my city is going hungry.' That's what he said. A few districts just let him do it. Some of them tried to fight, to make some kind of point. I don't know what it was. But they didn't win. You don't win when you're up against my brother."

Kiko smiled. "That . . . sounds like Seto-sama."

"Food is important for the banks," Mokuba continued, "but they also need . . . y'know. Money. So we always make a straight donation whenever we bring food like this. It's important to make sure charities and non-profits have what they need to do their work."

Kiko nodded. "Of course."

"You know, people call Niisama the king of the city. Usually, they're being nasty about it. Acting like he's some overlord, dictating from on high. But that's not what it means. Not really. You know why he can do all he does? Why he's got so much power?"

Kiko was tempted to say because he has the money, but that wasn't it. She knew it wasn't. There were any number of wealthy people in and around Domino City. Seto may have been the wealthiest, but that wasn't what made him a power player. It was part of it, but if that was all he'd have been ousted long before now.

"Tell me," Kiko said.

"It's because the people who make this city move, the real cornerstones of Domino, know that they can count on him." Mokuba never looked prouder than when he was talking up his brother, and this was no exception. He positively glowed. "He doesn't just throw money at things as publicity stunts. He listens. He seeks out the people who know what to do with his money, and he works with them to make sure it gets put in the right places."

"One would think this would be standard practice," Kiko murmured, more to herself than to Mokuba, "but I get the feeling that it isn't."

"No," Mokuba said. "A lot of the people Niisama deals with at work. You know, old money. They fund things because they want a say. They want power. They want to dictate what their precious donations get used for. Niisama doesn't do that. He trusts the people he works with. He says if he didn't trust them to do the right thing with his contributions, then he wouldn't deal with them. He says the main thing that makes him back out of a deal is when people make promises to treat him better. He doesn't want to buy public opinion. He wants to make things better."

"I think," Kiko said, "your brother is wiser than he gives himself credit for."

"Prob'ly," said Mokuba. "But then again . . ."

Seto came striding into the parlor like a preening peacock, looking entirely too smug for his own good. Following behind him, filing in with boxes and boxes and more boxes, were at least ten men in suits with grim castes to their faces. They looked like they were a bomb squad, or else they were escorting an armored car carrying gold bars to a vault.

But they weren't carrying gold bars.

They were carrying . . .

". . . We are talking about the man who buys half the city's worth of Girl Scout Cookies every year," Mokuba finally finished his thought. "He doesn't like sweets much, but that doesn't stop him from buying . . . well. This many Thin Mints." He gestured.

Kiko realized, all of a sudden, why the kitchens needed to clear out space.

"I, um." Dumbfounded, truly bamboozled, Kiko nearly forgot how to speak. "Uh. I suppose everyone has some exceptions."

Mokuba smirked. "That," he said, "and Niisama can't say no to small children."

"I can deny any small child I want," Seto called from the kitchen. "I just happened to meet some sharp, intuitive entrepreneurs today. They were very persuasive, and it's important to reward that."

"He just used a lot more words to say what I said," Mokuba muttered under his breath.

Kiko doubled over and laughed harder than she had in months.