The idea struck me recently that, with all the shenanigans that people get up to in Domino City, it would be really hard to keep it hidden. Especially since nobody really tries. This isn't one of those series where there's a secret society that's dedicated to protecting people from magic and its consequences, where people can learn how to use magic or something like that.

Things just happen here.

So I felt like . . . any local, anyone who's spent longer than a couple years here, would know that magic is a thing. You just have to kind of run with it. There's no other option.

Yes, yes, we all see the dragon, Jeffrey. Just cross the street, okay? You're holding up traffic.


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Bereft of their leadership, the house staff at the Kaiba Estate did not begrudge Valery keeping them on task. They were professionals, and so they didn't scramble for purchase. They each of them had their tasks, and they performed them well. All the same, they took comfort in having someone around who had a very specific idea of how everything ought to be done.

Someone who knew Seto-sama's standards, and would keep to them.

It was familiar.

No one dared to say it, but they'd at least started to wonder—even if they'd never admit it out loud—if they shouldn't dust off their résumés and look out for new employment.

More often than not, Kohaku found himself watching Valery go about her business, mesmerized. "Time has added lines to her face," he mentioned to his wife one morning, "but I couldn't deny her if I wanted to." He flinched, almost guiltily. "Is it strange that seeing Val has made this . . . real for me, in a way that the rest hasn't?"

"I don't think so," Yuki said, stroking her husband's arm. "I think I know exactly what you mean."

Having just finished up a phone conversation with Roland, Valery turned her attention to the Yagamis. She looked grim. "It seems Mister Mutou has an idea on how to proceed," she said, all business, her voice clipped and curt; she didn't sound confident. "He'll be visiting shortly, if you'd like to receive him?"

Though she left this unsaid, it was clear to Kohaku and Yuki both that Valery would absolutely bar Yugi Mutou from the house if they decided they didn't want to see him.

"That's fine," said Yuki, offering a smile. "Thank you." She bowed her head.

Valery found a smile of her own, though it left her face quickly. She eyed them both for a time, then said: "You know, I've wondered for so many years what I would say, if I had the chance to see you two again. In a dream, or in Heaven, or something like. But here we are, and the best I can do is treat you like strangers."

"You, ah. You believe us, then." Kohaku couldn't help but sound incredulous. "You know who we are, and you . . . you're okay with that."

The smile came back to Valery's face, a bit more sincere this time. "Seto wouldn't do what he did for just anyone. If you were just some visiting tourists who got threatened on his property, he'd offer to pay off your debts, or hire a therapist for you. He'd handle hospital bills if any were necessary. But he wouldn't stand in front of a bullet for anybody but family."

Kohaku found he had no response to that.

"Besides," Valery continued, "this is Domino City. Having you stand here in front of me is hardly the strangest thing I've seen. Just a couple of years ago, we had dragons and imps and flying serpents whipping around the commercial district like a hurricane. Seto didn't want to explain what happened, what it all meant. He wanted to pretend nothing happened at all, I think. But Mokuba made him."

"Dragons?" Yuki repeated. "Like, giant reptiles with claws and tails and wings? Breathing fire?"

"And lightning." Valery nodded. "And ice, and acid. It was quite beautiful, actually."

"And . . . our son was in the middle of it," Kohaku murmured.

The smile was back in full force now. It was doting. "He's the reason Domino is still standing," she said. "Not only did he fight back the tide of . . . creatures. But he spearheaded the efforts to repair all the damage they did. Especially in the poorer neighborhoods. The folks with no insurance. He ran fundraisers and raffles and drives and concerts, all he could think of to bring money into the city. It worked. We're better and brighter than we've ever been."

"Just how many life-threatening situations has Seto been involved in?" Yuki wondered, not quite directing her question to Valery but, perhaps, to God. Or Yugi Mutou. Or whomever else might be able to answer.

"At least count? Seven." Valery favored Yuki with a sympathetic look. "He's been through a lot. More than anyone could ever be expected to handle, never mind as well as he has. But he's still here, he's still going strong, and the least I can do now is believe in him."

Kohaku blinked. "We named godparents," he said, more sharply than he intended. "We picked people to take care of him . . . and Mokuba, I suppose. If anything happened to us. Did . . . did Gozaburo Kaiba do anything to Haru and Kimi?"

Valery didn't flinch, not quite, but her expression hardened again. "No," she said with conviction. "No, he wasn't involved until much later."

Yuki narrowed her eyes. "You know something," she said. "What happened?"

"I will tell you," Valery said, "but only if you swear to me that, word one to word done, none of this reaches the boys. They don't need to be reminded. There's enough going on as it is."

Yuki's jaw set. She shared a knowing look with her husband before she nodded. "Fine. I swear it. Not a word."

"Agreed," said Kohaku. "We swear. What happened to his godparents?"

Valery stepped over to a nearby chair. She gestured to a couch opposite her, and the Yagamis joined her. "I know you care about Haru and Kimi both. You wouldn't have chosen them, otherwise. But I need you to forget anything and everything you've ever known about either of them. I need you to trust me. Can you do that? Can you trust that I don't take any pleasure in telling you this?"

"Yes," said Yuki, a bit more fiercely than she'd intended.

"We can," Kohaku added, putting a hand on his wife's knee.

Valery sighed heavily. "As I understand it," she began, "the . . . primary issue came in the form of little Mokuba." She shrugged, but it seemed like a nervous tic. "They never expected to take in two children, and . . . there's no kind way to put this, Mokuba was a bit of a hellion. He only minded his brother. He all but refused to listen to anyone, literally anyone, else. I think there was some bitterness there. Not only were you gone, but now they had more responsibility and stress than they'd ever agreed to."

Kohaku frowned into the silence. "I guess I can understand that," he said, "but I'm supposing it doesn't end there, does it?"

"No." Valery shook her head and clasped her hands together, placing them into her lap. "When you—when you died, I was already wrapped up in too much nasty business of my own. My father, he was . . . he had . . . well. Never mind. That's not important. The point is, I'm sorry. I wish I had been able to step in. I look back and I wonder if maybe I could have, and I was just making excuses for myself. I could have done something, couldn't I? But I didn't."

"Their frustration at taking care of two boys," Yuki murmured, "didn't stay confined to their thoughts. Did it? Seto knew."

"It's hard to miss something when you're told it, rather often." Valery sighed again. "They hardly missed a chance to remind Seto of just how much work it was to care for them. Never mind that Seto was already quite adept at looking after Mokuba on his own." She eyed Kohaku. "You took on so much, so much, just to provide for them. It was all you could do just to keep the roof over their heads."

"This city," Kohaku said, "has never been cheap. I'm guessing it's only gotten worse."

"Seto learned," Valery continued, "a very specific example from the both of you, on what it meant to be a parent. To take care of a child. The sacrifices you make, that you're not just expected to make but obligated to make, when you're looking after the welfare of someone else who's relying on you. He placed those expectations on himself. Where he made a mistake was placing them onto his godparents." She grimaced, like she had a headache and was trying to hide it. "They didn't appreciate that. How much he fought them. How much he reminded them of the promises they'd made. How, when they made it clear how they expected things to work in their household, and when Seto realized that there was no room for his opinion, he gave up on them entirely. He decided, quite justifiably I think, that if he couldn't count on them to look after him and Mokuba, then he wouldn't."

"He thought," Yuki guessed, "that having two adults back in the house would make things easier."

Valery nodded. "The Kohaku Yagami I knew. The man I . . . the man that I . . ." She took a moment to compose herself, wiping at her eyes. "He accepted no excuses from himself. What mattered was his sons having a healthy, happy, safe place to live. What mattered was keeping food in the house, toys, clothes, keeping the lights on, keeping the heat on, keeping his feet moving forward. All for his boys. He was so lonely. He was listless. But he was . . . he was brave. So brave. He was the strongest, most stubborn man I ever knew."

Kohaku looked embarrassed, but he didn't speak.

Yuki was rubbing at her chin. "Haru couldn't measure up," she said. "More importantly, he didn't want to. He didn't think he should have to."

Valery nodded. "Exactly. And maybe he shouldn't have had to. Maybe that's true. I don't know. What I know is . . . it didn't work. None of it worked. I hope things are different, where you come from. I hope you never have to find out. I hope your son never has to find out. But it all happened here. It wasn't two years before every cent of their inheritance was gone. You both had life insurance, in good standing, and that should have been enough to keep them provided for. At least until Seto was an adult. But what should be and what is . . . well, anyway. Two years. Gone. And they both ended up in the Domino Children's Home."

"I wondered," Kohaku said, leaning back against the couch, "if maybe they died too. I wondered if fate could have been so cruel. But this . . . this is worse, I think. I feel like you're holding back quite a lot, even after warning us. I don't think they just didn't measure up to Seto's standards. I think they treated our sons pretty damn badly. Am I right?"

Valery raised her eyes to meet Kohaku's gaze, held it. She said: "Five or six years ago now. Seto was just rising to his current position in his company, and his reputation was just starting to cement itself. They died. Soon enough to each other that their funerals were handled at the same time. Seto didn't . . . he didn't attend the service. He paid for it. All of it. Every penny. But he didn't show. When I asked him why he'd do such a kindness with one hand and make such a slight with the other, do you know what he told me?"

"What?" Yuki asked. "What did he say?"

"He said, I remember every word: 'The children they did love shouldn't have to deal with that kind of debt. And they certainly shouldn't have to deal with me soiling their last memories of their parents. I'm not slighting them. I'm doing the greatest kindness I could do for them."

The expressions that passed over the Yagamis' faces was half-proud, half-grievous. Yuki eventually spoke up: "Did, um. Did Mokuba attend the service?"

"He did." Valery nodded. "He presented them with the money himself. He told them that he couldn't remember much about the time he'd spent with Haru and Kimi, but that they were a part of his history all the same. He wanted to honor that."