I always end up borrowing from my own experiences when I write Noa. I've started carrying a cane with me whenever I have to walk anywhere for a decent amount of time, and so the image of Noa with a cane wouldn't leave me.

I figured it would be an important part of his recovery.

.

"So," said Amaya, arms folded over her chest, looking imperial, "I understand you two got into trouble in class today." Seto and Noa looked at each other, then back at their mother; there was no shame, only annoyance, in them. "I received a call from your teacher. Would you care to explain yourselves?"

Noa tapped his cane on the floor like he was announcing himself. "If we're not supposed to discuss the topic," he said, "then why call it a class discussion? I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do when a grown adult tries to tell me the Puritans—sorry, Congregationalists—came to North America to 'escape religious prosecution,' except to laugh in his face."

"To be fair," Seto said, "I think you could stretch the definition of 'prosecution' to include: you're too fanatical and heretical even for us; get the hell out."

Noa rolled his eyes. "You know that isn't what he meant."

"No," Seto allowed, "but technically . . ."

So it went, for nearly a full minute, as the boys continued to argue. Amaya struggled to contain herself, especially once she felt laughter rising up in her. She held up a hand; both brothers quieted. "That's enough," she said. "I think I get the picture. This is nothing. Go on. Out with you."

Noa bowed. "Yes, Hahaue," he said.

Seto also bowed, but he kept quiet.

Amaya didn't miss the fact that Seto didn't call her anything except ma'am when he addressed her at all. She didn't suppose this surprised her; he didn't call Gozaburo his father, either. It had started to raise eyebrows, but it wasn't anything Amaya felt the need to address. Seto didn't have the luxury of ignorance that his brother did; Mokuba could hardly remember his father's face, and he'd never known his mother. Any parent was as good as any other.

Seto remembered.

He couldn't replace them if he tried.

Amaya turned her head when she sensed another person in the room. "Good afternoon," she said.

Travis Copeland nodded. "Ma'am," he said; Amaya's lips curved in a smile. "I think, eventually, the school is going to want to take you to task for not disciplining them. This isn't the first time you've gotten a call like this, is it? Do you have a strategy in mind?"

"I do," said Amaya, flatly. "I'm going to ask their teacher why he hasn't prepared himself properly for dealing with pushback. Phoenix Gate is a school for gifted students. Is that not the point of those entrance exams? Why should a supposed expert not answer when posed a loaded question?"

Travis shrugged. "I'm sure they'd say something about disrespect."

Amaya rolled her eyes. "Demanding respect from children is hardly behavior fitting a professional adult. I expect more from the people hired to teach my boys."

"Do you not tell Seto and Noa both to . . . command respect? Is that different from demanding respect in some way that I'm not aware of?"

"Children demanding respect from adults is necessary," Amaya said. "Adults demanding respect from children is pathetic." She drew in a steadying breath. "Anything an adult expects from a child, the child should expect from the adult. Children are not devices, and they are not pets. Treating them as a separate species is how you get people like . . ."

She cut herself off.

Travis offered a little smile. "I see," he said. "You'd think, by now, that I would expect you to know precisely what you're doing." He gestured. "Mister Kaiba said something about a barbecue this weekend. I guess he wants to know whether or not you will attend."

Amaya sighed again. "Of course," she said. "I'll speak to him. Thank you."

Travis bowed. "Of course, ma'am."

.

Noa was walking beside his brother, happy as you please, enjoying the thump sound that his cane made on the carpet, when he tripped on his own heel. He stumbled forward, his cane shot out from beneath him, and he gritted his teeth in preparation for a knee-shattering impact that . . . didn't happen.

Seto was there, one hand wrapped around Noa's left wrist, hunkered in front of him so that he slumped against his brother's back.

Noa shuffled up and found his feet. He took his cane when Seto offered it. ". . . Thanks," he said, feeling his face go hot. "How did you do that?"

Seto straightened. "I like to swim," he said.

Noa tilted his head to one side. "Excuse me? What does that have to do with anything?"

Seto shrugged. "It's a whole-body workout. I'm good at it. I have strong reflexes."

Noa's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'm still not sure how much of that is relevant here."

Seto sighed. "Okay, okay, fine. The truth is, I had to be fast. At the orphanage." This time, Noa tilted his head in the other direction. "Other kids, older kids, liked to treat Mokie like their private little punching bag. I had to be fast if there was any hope of protecting him. So . . . I got fast."

"Mokuba's not even four years old," Noa said, sounding scandalized.

"He was the youngest kid there," Seto said. "He was a prime target."

"So you had to fight them. The older kids."

"Yeah."

"You're quick at reacting to things because of them."

"Mm-hm."

"So . . . what was that about swimming, then?"

Seto grunted. "I don't know. I guess I just . . . adults would always get weird if I talked about fighting. It made me seem like a problem child, so I just . . . stopped saying it." He averted his gaze. "I guess I just thought . . . it would look low-class if I . . . talked about it here."

"Chichiue used to be a mercenary," Noa said incredulously. "He knows forty-six ways to kill a man with one hand. That's nonsense."

Seto frowned thoughtfully. "I guess I never really thought about that."

"Didn't you tell me Hahaue knocked Old Giichi flat?"

A grin spread on Seto's face now. He giggled to himself. "Yeah. Yeah, she did."

"If anything," Noa went on, "they're going to be happy you know how to fight. Chichiue was starting to talk about me learning how to defend myself. Before my accident, you know? I bet he'll start in on it again, once I'm better." He waved his cane around. "I'm not sure if I want to get rid of this."

"It's a weapon," Seto said. "You should get one with a sword in it."

Noa's eyes went wide. "Like a proper gentleman!"

"Sure," Seto said flatly. "That's what we'll call you. Definitely. A gentleman."