There's quite a bit of planning and groundwork that goes into a project like this, and I know that this format might not be optimal. But I hope that you will be patient with me. I'm doing it this way to ensure that I have enough content to keep going for a long time. I have a lot of projects going on right now; though I've just recently finished one of them ("Best I Am," my romance-oriented one-shot collection set in the Bleach universe), I still have eight ongoing.

That said, this chapter is longer than the previous one. So I hope that helps. I'll keep working out kinks and issues, and hopefully I'll be able to eventually update more than once a week. I'll keep you posted.

Until then, enjoy. I'll see you next time.


"Master Kaiba."

Seto Sasaki-Yagami Kaiba wasn't a man used to being reprimanded. He was used to being criticized, sure, but that was somehow different. This was different. As he stared across the desk at his personal assistant, flanked by two members of his security staff, he couldn't help but feel like an elementary school student in the principal's office.

Which was ridiculous because in this building, he was the principal, and this was his office.

"If you have something to say about my decision, say it. Clearly. Start again with euphemistic platitudes and you can leave."

Roland Ackerman sighed heavily and nodded. "Of course, sir."

Vincent Zika suddenly looked as though he finally understood the folly of this undertaking, and was very much wishing he'd stayed on the other side of the door. It did Seto's heart well to see it. He'd had more than enough insults to his equilibrium lately.

He glanced over at the third member of this pseudo-intervention. Helen Aarden didn't look nervous, like Vincent, nor exasperated like Roland. She looked like she was in the presence of an abject idiot.

Seto's opinion of her rose a notch.

"All we're saying, sir," said Vincent, apparently fed up with fidgeting, "is that you might want to reconsider the other candidates a bit more...fairly. We're not exactly in a situation where we can be picky, are we? I mean, with the von Schroeder debacle so fresh in everyone's minds..."

"Has it occurred to you that that is precisely why the people with whom you're presenting me are entirely useless?" Seto muttered, raising a thin eyebrow. "I don't need good. I don't need adequate. I don't need sufficient. Should I find a thesaurus and inform you as to other adjectives that I don'tneed? Anything to increase efficiency. We're a family. I'm only here to help."

"What we don't need is flippant deafness," Helen said sharply. "We don't have anyone that fits your standards, sir. For the love of God, you're acting like we're presenting him with a wife. If you want your brother protected, this is what we have. Any one of these candidates is light years ahead of nothing, and I was under the impression when I took this job that you maintained the mental capacity to understand that."

Seto fought the urge to laugh.

He could already tell that Roland knew what he was thinking:

Keep this one around.

He said, "I am well aware of the 'anything is better than nothing' initiative that seems to be overtaking this country. I refuse to adhere to it." He stood up. "Let me explain something to you, Miss Aarden. I am under no magnificent delusion that I am a perfect human being. I know better than any of you think, just what is said about me in these walls. I deny none of it. Not a single word. Do you know why? The opinions of others about my character bores me to proverbial tears."

Helen crossed her arms.

Seto smirked. "Overprotective twit? Prison warden? Codependent train wreck? Emotionally stifling, overbearing moron? Fine. But do you know what else I am, Miss Aarden? I am generous. I have no use for the wealth I've acquired if it does not buy me what I want. That is the entire point of monetary exchange, and when I hire someone to work for me, I expect better from them than I can provide. I expect a spokesperson to deliver a message better than I can. I expect a lawyer to argue better than I can. I expect a bodyguard to protect better than I can. And until I find that, I am entirely uninterested in paying for it."

Roland drew in a breath. "And do you have any prospective candidates to guard the young master?" Helen quirked an eyebrow. She'd always seemed confused and even a touch disgusted by the archaic way that Roland addressed his employers.

"I do," Seto said. "He is untrained, uncouth, entirely irritating, the breed of man that I would rather didn't exist anymore. He has the vocabulary of a fifth-grader, the reasoning capacity of a preschooler, and he dresses like a felon in training." He eyed his three associates critically, sweeping his gaze over each face in turn. "And do you know why he is higher on my list of priorities than all the finely dressed, professionally trained, 'sufficiently' experienced people you have brought to me?"

Roland was fighting a grin.

Vincent and Helen looked confused.

"...Never once has he had the audacity to inform me that 'nothing will happen' to my brother while he's watching him. Never once has he had the nerve to tell me that he won't let harm catch a glimpse of him."

Vincent blinked.

Seto sat back down in his chair and leaned back, looking like some species of king.

"Over the past few weeks, I have heard any number of oaths from people who would die for my brother. Joseph Wheeler's is the only one I believe."

Roland no longer looked exasperated.

He looked impressed.

Seto thought that if he'd known, three years ago, that he would one day be defending Joey Wheeler of all fucking people, he might well have jumped in front of a train to avoid seeing it come to fruition. But whenever he thought of who to put in place as Mokuba's bodyguard, whenever he thought of placing someone in such a position as to protect his brother from those increasingly common threats which seemed to slip through his fingers...

Seto could only think of one thing:

The day he'd finally decided to roll the dice and ask the blond why he was putting so much (unpaid) time and effort into protecting the boy.

And Joey had said, "Same reason you do, you fuckin' dope."