I do not believe that Gozaburo is a loveless man.

I do, however, fully believe that he's very bad at expressing it.

Understand that this story is not my attempt at making y'all sympathize with him. Not directly. All I mean to establish here is that Noa's death in canon broke his brain. I think he was a fuller man back before that happened, if not a better man.

That's part of what this story is exploring.

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Gozaburo Kaiba stood alone—a void in reality in the shape of a man—watching his only son. Amaya was gone for the time being, and he was faced with a grim choice in the form of hissing machinery and a face far too young for the grave. Noa was a boy barely scratching the surface of his life, and yet . . . here they were.

The patriarch of the fledgling Kaiba dynasty swallowed tempestuous anger; he swallowed premature grief. Gozaburo forced himself to bury what he could bury, then he fanned the flames of what remained. Here was a man who refused to engage in delusion; he did not hide from the truth. Here was a man who shaped his life to suit his vision, and the only way to do that was with a clear vision.

Gozaburo Kaiba had a responsibility to keep.

He sat down on one of the chairs set to the side of Noa's bed. Gozaburo did not sit with the regal air of a king, but with the grim gravity of a warrior. He reached out and took hold of his child's left hand; his touch was only ever gentle when he reached for little Noa.

Little, little Noa.

"My son," said Gozaburo, slowly, sounding like a storm on the horizon, "when you wake . . . and make no mistake, you will. This city will have no power over you. You are a Kaiba. You are a force of nature. This offense will not be weathered silently. I'm not done. Your mother is not done."

Just in view of his peripheral vision, Amaya glided into the doorway.

Gozaburo scowled thunderously. "So, live. Do you hear me? That is your part in this. I will not conquer this world for a ghost."

Amaya crossed her arms over her chest. "Such a way with words," she said. "I think that's the closest thing to fatherly love as you're capable of expressing." She smiled privately to herself. "Your family certainly broke the mold with you, didn't it?"

"Naturally," Gozaburo said, leaning back in his chair. "What news? I'm sure someone's reported back to you at least once by now."

Amaya grunted. "All I know is this," she said. "I've been assured, in no uncertain terms, that he's past the worst of it. Noa will recover. It won't be an easy road, and it won't be a short one. It will take time, and effort, to see him back on his feet. He might never walk without a cane again." Amaya sighed as she took in the sight of her son and husband. "I think it will be better to bring the specialists to us. I don't like having Noa here. It's too exposed. I don't think you will have trouble ensuring . . . cooperation. Will you?"

"You haven't already done that?" Gozaburo asked, almost lightly. His expression was as good-natured as it ever was.

"Men." Amaya rolled her eyes. "You're all the same. I'll only make as much a fool of myself as I must. I won't put on an act just to suit their egos."

Gozaburo raised one thick eyebrow. He smirked. "They're frightened of you," he guessed. "How badly have you threatened them, then?"

"That," said Amaya, "is irrelevant." She shook her head. "Just handle it. Over the phone, I think. I've a sneaking suspicion that these people won't be able to handle you in person. They're liable to keel over and die just from looking at you too hard."

Gozaburo sighed. "Very well," he said. "I'll see this done."

Amaya took a step closer to the foot of the bed and watched her son for a time. Her face softened as she did. She murmured, after a short silence: "The toy drive at the old orphanage is next month."

"Your fascination with that place is pathological, Amaya."

"It's good publicity," Amaya countered. "The clearest path to owning this city is to ingratiate yourself to its heart."

Gozaburo looked incredulous now. "And you think that means . . . discarded orphans."

"Don't be thick," Amaya snapped. "The next generation. They will shape Domino City in ways that our peers never will. You know as well as I do that connections only work for networking. If you want anything done, anything tangible, you need people on the ground. You need to set yourself as a man to trust. Our contemporaries are vapid fools. They can hardly be trusted to know which end of a wine bottle to open."

Gozaburo laughed quietly. "You never did like dealing with socialites."

"They're wastes, Gozaburo."

"Yes, yes. I know." Gozaburo waved an impatient hand. "You needn't join me the next time Buchanan puts together a gala. I'll go myself. Stay home and plot his downfall, why don't you?"

Amaya's face twisted with real disgust. "Carbrey Buchanan is a jackass."

"Of course he is," Gozaburo said quickly. "But he's a generous jackass. If you're serious about pressing me to turn the Kaiba Corporation toward a new field, change its face, then he will be instrumental to our future."

"He's cracked little jokes about that daughter of his. What's her name? Catrina. Making eyes at Noa." Amaya's face reddened at the insult. "Like we're some minor noble family looking to arrange a beneficial marriage." She jabbed a finger at her husband. "I won't have it," she said coldly. "Do you hear me? The next time he talks like that, I fully expect you to put a fist through his teeth."

Some might have wondered, or outright believed, the Kaiba matriarch was making an off-color joke. Gozaburo knew, quite well, that she wasn't.

He stood up, offering a curt little nod as his only acknowledgment. Gozaburo sidestepped his queen and left the room. Amaya didn't ask where he was going; she didn't speak at all, nor did she follow him. She simply took his place at their son's side.

Out in the hallway, another man swathed all in black—not unlike Gozaburo himself—fell into step beside him. "Sir," he said. "We got a call in, about five minutes ago. Isono's fished out a possible lead on his employer."

Gozaburo didn't need to ask for clarification. "Why," he asked instead, "was this not brought to my attention immediately?"

Travis Copeland bowed his head. "With all due respect, sir, your wife was quite clear." This caused Gozaburo to stop; Travis stopped with him. The two men looked at each other. "I would rather face your wrath than hers."

Gozaburo studied his newest hire more closely. "Is that so?" he asked.

Lesser men might have taken the question as a threat.

Travis didn't flinch. "Yes, sir," he said. "You, at least, would make my death quick."

Gozaburo stared at Travis for a while longer, then he laughed. "Just a month with us, and you're already understanding quite well how things work around here." He nodded to himself, clearly pleased. "Well done. I knew you had potential." He gestured. "Send Tsukuda to me at his next convenience. I want to hear what he's learned directly from him."

"Sir."

"Oh. Copeland." Gozaburo held up a hand. "Reach out to Gregory Kelvin, the director at the Children's Home. Tell him that Amaya and I will be assisting with his annual toy drive."

Travis looked confused for a moment.

Then he bowed his head swiftly.

"Sir."