I talk about the house staff at Kaiba-Corp, but usually the only one we hear from is Roland. I think I kinda wanted to rectify that a bit here, but not so much that I gave everyone a ton of new characters to keep track of. There's already enough nonsense going on, multiple copies and all that.
Too many OCs is just gonna make things harder.
Which … isn't to say I succeeded in keeping things streamlined, exactly.
I don't know.
I just work here.
.
"They're trying to spread us out, sir," said the uniformed man. "I don't know how, I wish I could offer something that made sense, but . . . that man you had us take into custody, he's just . . . he disappeared as soon as the sun came up. Just. Poof. Gone. All that's left is his clothes. We've got Jelly looking over the footage with a microscope, but I don't have much confidence that we're going to find much of anything."
Seto didn't look surprised, but neither did he look happy. "Keep sharp," he said. "Zephyr is on deck. Call in Nephthys and Orion. Short shifts. I want all of you operating at your best. This is not the time to play by the enemy's tune."
"Forgive me, sir." The uniformed man looked thoroughly uncomfortable. Like he was about to tell a stern parent about a failed test. "Given your condition, shouldn't you be sitting this one out? You're already risking permanent damage to your shoulder by moving as much as you are."
Seto grimaced. "I'm not sitting here and waiting," he said, "while I send people out into the field for me. Not when there are children in my house who need protection. I'll worry about my shoulder. You worry about the grounds. Send Roland directly to me when he gets here."
The uniformed man clacked his heels together and saluted. "Sir."
When they were alone again, Masahiko shuffled on the chair he'd claimed as his own. He looked around nervously. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"Why?" Seto asked, rather shortly; then his face softened, and he said: "You have nothing for which you ought apologize to me. This isn't your business. You're not responsible for what you've been roped into."
"I dunno." Masahiko fidgeted. "I'm pretty sure 'I was just following orders' doesn't scan with most people as a defense."
Seto smirked; his eyes sparkled. "Maybe so," he said, "but you're in my house. And in my house, children are not called to task for their mistakes; their guardians are. You aren't responsible for these misdeeds. Not at your age. I know, I know." He held up his good hand. "That sounds thoroughly demeaning and patronizing, and I'm sure it is. But it's how I operate."
"I don't . . . really know if I have a guardian," Masahiko said, after a moment's contemplation. "Otousama was supposed to be dead. That's why Niisama's—why Niisama was in charge of the company, and why he did all the things he did. It's why he is the way he is. And it's not like Niisama can take responsibility for anything right now, even if . . . even if . . ."
He couldn't finish.
"Then," Seto said, without missing a single beat, "for now at least, I'm your guardian."
Masahiko started nodding, to whatever he thought he'd heard, then he did a double-take and gawped at the man. "I . . . you . . . what?"
"Had history unfolded differently," Seto said, "you might have been my brother. The boy I am responsible for. And if I was unable to fulfill that role, for whatever reason, I would expect someone else to take my place. So, I will. My principles don't mean a damn thing if I don't hold myself to them. So. Until and unless your brother returns to his position, I will act as your guardian."
Masahiko remembered, quite thoroughly unbidden, a moment he'd almost buried.
From now on, I'll act as your father.
He rubbed his eyes, willing himself not to cry again. He'd already embarrassed himself quite enough in front of this man. "What . . . what's your brother going to say about this?" he asked, eventually.
"He's going to wonder why I didn't say anything sooner."
Masahiko's eyes narrowed. "He won't be mad?"
Seto shook his head decisively. "No," he said. "And if I'm wrong, well, he's just going to have to deal with being mad. I'm not rescinding the offer. Mokuba's opinion is important to me, doubtlessly, but it doesn't determine my actions. This is his home as much as it is mine, but in this, I am making an executive decision. Pulling rank, if you like."
"Big talk for a guy with one arm."
Seto glanced over, and Masahiko nearly jumped out of his skin, as Mokuba sauntered into the room. "How long have you been lurking?" Seto asked idly.
Mokuba flashed a grin. "Long enough to hear you grandstanding."
"Care to cut in?" Seto gestured to Masahiko with his good arm.
Mokuba stepped up and put a hand on Masahiko's shoulder. "Don't worry," he said. "I knew as soon as you showed up what Niisama was going to do. He's predictable like that. I'm not gonna say you have nothing to worry about. Things are getting pretty hairy, even for us. But you're as safe as you can be, here in Domino. This is the place to hole up."
"What about my hotel room?"
"We'll keep that open for you, in case we need to move you, or you just want a change of scenery. We might have to switch up the specific room, depending on how things shake up, but we can have a space made up for you easy enough."
"Are you sure?"
Mokuba chuckled knowingly. "C'mon. You're a Kaiba, same as us. You know damn well we got that fuck-off money."
"Language," Seto said.
Mokuba stuck out his tongue.
Masahiko smiled. ". . . Thank you," he said.
