I have spent a lot of time and energy figuring out the Kaiba family. I dig, sift through the layers and try to determine just who they are, consciously, subconsciously, and unconsciously. It's gotten to the point where every piece of fanfiction I've ever written for the franchise has focused on the Kaibas in one way or the other.

When I wrote "Back from the Dead," I wanted to deal with Noa. I'm sure I've mentioned before that I failed rather spectacularly. Noa didn't have a personality in BftD; he was almost purely a foil for Seto. I did a few things right, but a lot of it was an exercise in futility. This is my answer to that. I intend to do it right this time.

What sort of relationship does Noa have with Mokuba? With Seto?

This chapter is dedicated to unraveling the answers to those questions.

Verse One.

"You sound troubled, Master Kaiba. Distracted."

Seto leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling of his office. His finger twitched as he contemplated terminating the call right then and there, without acknowledging the statement. But he already knew that Roland Ackerman wouldn't stop at one attempt to get an answer. He would ask again, and again, and again. It was one of the reasons Seto trusted the man, where he trusted almost no one else: Roland didn't let him get away with his usual tactics; not anymore.

"I don't even want to think about how much money we've put into...him," Seto muttered. "Even Battle City wasn't as obscenely expensive as this debacle."

At the other end of the line, Roland was chuckling. "Master Kaiba, I understand that self-doubt is most likely a foreign concept to you, but to most humans it's a normal occurrence, especially when it comes to decisions of this magnitude."

"Yoshimi asked if Mokuba was safe with him."

The chuckling ceased. He seemed to catch that this wasn't a light conversation. Seto drummed his fingers on the top of his desk, watching the knuckles as shadows danced across them. This room, this sanctuary, where no one entered without expressed permission, should have felt secure. Safe. At least inasmuch as he wouldn't think about it. But right now it felt stifling.

Roland said, "You aren't sure about the answer to that question. You still don't trust him."

"Mokuba thinks he hid it well...the remorse of losing a brother." Seto himself thought that he hid the bitterness in his voice, but figured that he didn't. "People say that my Achilles' heel is my refusal to trust." That was, people who didn't know him personally. "His is trusting too easily."

"You think you shouldn't have caved," Roland guessed.

"I shouldn't have," Seto said with a hard edge. "Damn it all, I should have stood firm. Everything in me screamed all through the damned project that I was making a mistake. Every time I look at him, I know I've made a mistake."

"It's too late now."

Seto stood up and pushed his chair away. "I know that."

"Do you?" Roland pressed, and Seto envisioned the man leaning forward. "Do you honestly? I know you, Master Kaiba. I'm one of a scant handful with the confidence to say that. You're thinking that if it goes too far, if it goes too long, then you always have the option of taking it back. You made him. Literally. And you can put him back where he was."

Silence stepped into the room like an unwelcome guest, and Seto closed his eyes, running a hand over his face. He didn't bother to respond.

"But if you do that..." Roland continued, and there was something new in his voice, something Seto didn't quite recognize, "...if you abort the project, or whatever mechanical jargon you've placed onto this to forget the fact that you created a human being, the damage will be irreversible."

Seto glared at the computer monitor behind him as if it were actually Roland. "I'm not an idiot, Roland," he snapped, and cursed himself for the bite in his tone. "I know that."

"Master Kaiba. Right now, your brother thinks you're a superhero. You've done something for him that no one else on this green earth could possibly do. Never mind what Noa thinks about this, you think about Young Master Mokuba. He grieved. You saw it, I saw it, everyone saw it. Oh, he carried it well, and he regained equilibrium, but that was grieving just the same."

"I know."

"But you...through whatever supercomputer that serves you for a mind, you did the work of God. You took that grief and you spit on it. You brought the dead straight out of the grave, and by doing that you just earned a blank check. It doesn't matter what you do for the rest of your life; Mokuba will worship you for the rest of his."

Seto's eyes narrowed.

"...But if you take that away. If you tell him no, in this one thing...then I'll be shocked to the core if he ever forgives you. You can't just take this one back, Master Kaiba. Not now. It's too late for that. You have to ride it out because there's no safety net anymore."

"Roland, I wouldn't have done this if I hadn't already considered that. I'm not talking about killing a man because he irritates me. If a choice comes down between watching Mokuba die, and watching him hate me...then he's going to hate me. The problem is that everything in me says that that will be a very real choice that I will have to make. Sooner, not later."

Roland was silent for a while.

Seto had a sudden, incomprehensible desire to destroy something.

"You don't see it," Roland said, "because you don't trust him. But if you don't trust him, then try to trust me: he won't hurt Mokuba."

The eldest Kaiba snorted derisively.

"I'm serious," Roland said. "The day I suspect Noa of being capable of hurting Young Master Mokuba is the day I suspect you of the same thing. In that, if nothing else, you are equals."

Verse Two.

When Tristan came back into the room, two green cans in hand, Noa was still standing near the door, watching it. Mokuba was watching Noa. Yami turned to glance at the brunette and winked. "You missed quite a performance," said he.

"Eh?" Tristan asked. "What happened?"

"Noa's a good Samaritan," Joey said thoughtfully. Noa didn't look over, but a smile rose on his lips again. "Just went Informercial on a customer, sold 'im somethin' he prob'ly didn't even want."

"He was happy, though," Téa said, smiling.

"Yeah," Joey said, and gave a dismissive little chuckle, but Tristan—and Yami—didn't look entirely convinced. Tristan had spent enough time around the blond to realize that Joey might not be the brainiest guy in the world, but his instincts were sharp. Something about the way he was grinning felt fake. And Yami...well, Yami didn't really trust anybody, except maybe Kaiba. And Yugi. That seemed about it. The spirit of the Millenium Puzzle probably didn't even trust himself.

Téa didn't seem to notice anything about Joey. Neither did Mokuba.

They just...seemed impressed. Happy. Convinced.

Noa was back, and Noa was a good guy now. And to be honest, he'd never given any indication to Tristan that he wasn't. He seemed okay enough. Innocuous enough. But Tristan trusted his friends, and if Joey wasn't sold, neither was he. He didn't take much stock in Yami's opinion because...well, yeah. He'd ask Yugi later.

"Oi," Tristan said, and tossed a soda to Mokuba. The black-haired boy didn't seem to hear him, and wasn't looking in his direction as the 12-ounce projectile sailed toward his face. "Hey! Think fast, kid!"

The young Kaiba flinched and turned, but didn't have enough time to get his hands up to catch his drink, or even to duck out of the way. He just stood there and braced for impact. Mokuba had told them all often enough that Kaiba didn't treat him like some porcelain doll that couldn't ever be touched or hurt or tarnished; Mokuba was a boy, just like any other boy, and he'd scraped his share of knees and bruised his share of elbows; just the same, he could already hear Kaiba when he came to pick the kid up:

And the point to throwing it at my brother's face? You're too lazy to hand it to him, it would have taken too long to take four steps forward and let him take it himself? You couldn't tell he wasn't paying attention, that he didn't hear you? What was this? A lesson? You overstep yourself, Taylor. I don't need you teaching my brother anything.

Noa shot into movement so quickly that it looked like teleportation. One moment he was standing by the door, staring outside through the glass; the next he was at his little brother's side, and his arm shot out like oil-slick lightning and caught the soda a scant inch-and-a-half from Mokuba's nose.

The middle Kaiba popped the tab. "Here you go, kiddo," he said.

Mokuba stared up at him for a moment before giving a nervous little smile and taking the can. "...Thanks," he said in a soft, breathless little voice. "How did you...?"

Noa winked again. "Synthetic. Seto-sama mentioned that my muscle capacity is enhanced, compared to the average. My reflexes got the same treatment." He gave his trademark little grin to Tristan and said, "Good thing, huh? That could have been messy."

Was it a warning? It didn't look like it was supposed to be. It didn't sound like it was supposed to be. But all the same...hm. He wasn't sure, but one thing Tristan Taylor had learned about the Kaibas was that it was precisely wrong not to trust your gut.

He figured the same would have to be true of this Kaiba, too.

And he also figured that it would be a grave mistake to forget that.

Verse Three.

Yugi had regained control of himself; apparently Yami had had enough entertainment for one afternoon. Noa and Mokuba were playing a tabletop war game; the latter looking happy, the former looking studious.

"Is it just me, or does Noa look like he's taking a chemistry test?" Joey asked, leaning against the wall and glancing at his friend. "I thought the point of games was to have fun. I know, I know, stupid me. I don't think I've ever seen a less fun expression on a human face before."

Amusing, came Yami's voice in Yugi's ears, calling that a human face. Yugi ignored that, choosing instead to look at the blond, who was clearly waiting for some kind of response. He said, "I'm pretty sure Noa is cut from the same cloth as Kaiba is. Games aren't about fun; they're about competition. Think about all the times you've seen Kaiba in the dueling arena. Has he ever looked like he's having fun?"

"...Point taken," Joey admitted. "But I ain't ever seen Kaiba duel his li'l brother. Just about every time I've ever seen Kaiba duel, it's been in a life-or-death situation. Kinda hard to have fun when somebody's tryna kill you." He frowned. "Then again...I pretty much made a living out of it when I was a kid."

None of them honestly understood what to make of the situation that confronted them. It was clear that Mokuba was perfectly at ease with the whole thing, but according to Yami, Mokuba was the only one about whom Noa seemed to honestly care; so maybe that wasn't much of a surprise. But the rest of them had to come to grips with the fact that Seto's technology was advanced enough to resurrect the dead. Frightening enough that he had attempted it; it was absolutely mortifying to think he'd succeeded.

But here he was: the ultimate blasphemy.

What should have been the most terrifying thing on the face of the earth was handsome, fair-haired and, if Mokuba's facial expression was any indication, clearly loved.

Is it not said that Lucifer was the most beautiful of God's angels?

Yugi grimaced. "You don't even believe in Lucifer."

"Eh?"

Of course I do. He and I have much in common. I don't call him by that name, but that doesn't mean he doesn't exist. And anyway, Aibou, what difference does it make if Noa is an artificial man? Am I not much the same?

Yugi wanted very much to say no. It felt like the right answer. But as he thought about it...he had to wonder: was Yami different from Noa Kaiba in any way that mattered? Wasn't Yami the same product, only constructed of magic rather than technology? Was magic intrinsically better than technology? Less offensive? Less...wrong?

"No...no, it isn't."

Joey raised an eyebrow. "Make a habit o' talkin' to yourself, there, Yug? Or's Yami doin' his thing?"

"That's it," Yugi said. "He's making me doubt myself again."

"Huh. Must be Tuesday."

Mokuba moved one of his pieces, looking triumphant. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, daring his adoptive sibling to get out of that one. Téa and Tristan had gone home already, professing that they had errands to run. Yugi suspected they'd simply needed to escape. He went into the kitchen, grabbed a soda. As he walked back into the main floor—his shift wasn't over; he couldn't leave even if he wanted to—he popped the tab and began to drink, if for no better reason than to do something.

He wondered if the pair of Kaibas even realized that they were little more than a zoo exhibit for the others in the room. Yugi couldn't think of a single thing to say to either of them right now, and he was sure that the same was true of Joey.

More customers came in, and Yugi was so relieved to have something to distract him that he probably scared them off for good. A couple, who recognized Mokuba from TV, stayed and watched the game for a while. Seeming to sense just how seriously Noa was taking the contest, they didn't speak. They simply watched. Mokuba shook their hands, smiled at them, waved, greeted them; Noa didn't seem to realize that they were even there. As far as he was concerned, Yugi guessed, other humans had no meaning.

And why should that be a surprise, either? He'd lived alone in his own private universe for so many years, it was only natural for him to attribute no importance to anyone else, right? They were all fake, after all. The world he'd ruled didn't look or act differently enough for him to have realized that the rules had changed. Yes. That made sense.

When Yugi turned the sign in front of the shop from OPEN to CLOSED, Noa and Mokuba were still playing. Neither had realized just how much time had passed. "Aren't these supposed to take a coupl'a days to finish?" Joey asked. Yugi nodded. "Looks like they're almost done. What time is it?"

"Half past eight," Yugi said. "Kaiba should be here soon."

"Whoo-hoo," came the less-than-enthusiastic reply.

"Be nice," Yugi admonished. "This whole 'Kaiba sucks' thing is getting old. Can't you find a new shtick? Besides, I'm pretty sure Noa doesn't have a driver's license. You knew he was going to come and pick them up. No sense complaining now."

"I'll complain as long as I damn well please," Joey muttered, looking mutinous. "'Sides, it's not like you don't agree with me half the damn time. Guy's got a laptop shoved sideways up his ass, no matter which way you wanna look at it."

Noa's eyes, roving over the game-board like a retinal scanner, suddenly locked on Joey's face with a kind of pristine ferocity. The blond stiffened, and suddenly his breath turned to molasses as he got a good look at the man's face. Yugi felt his body's temperature drop like he'd just bathed in liquid Nitrogen; the man had said his reflexes were sharper than natural. Why hadn't it crossed their minds that his senses had gotten the same treatment?

They had learned long ago that to insult Seto Kaiba where Mokuba could hear them was a bad idea. He may have been eleven, but he could lecture with the best of them, and Yugi had thought that his mother could learn a lesson or two from the young Kaiba about making people feel guilty. Apparently Noa was a new initiate to the faith, because he looked like a prized lieutenant whose Boss they'd just insulted. In short, murderous.

Why not? Yami asked, thoroughly enjoying himself. True, Noa may have been an enemy, but that is all the more reason why he would be impressed and ingratiating now. Kaiba has given him the most precious gift any can give him: life. You saw how devoted he was to his father. Why should things be any different now? Compared to Gozaburo-sama, this Kaiba is a saint.

Mokuba had noticed the change in his brother's mood, and he looked around. "What's up, guys?" the boy asked, then seemed to fully realize that it was dark out. He blinked. "What…what time is it?" He fished a cellular phone out of one pocket of his jeans, flipped it open, and stared. "Ohmygod!" he cried, all in one breath. "It's almost nine!"

The device began to ring as the boy watched it, and he flinched.

Hitting a button and holding the phone to his ear, Mokuba said, "Hi, Niisama," in a sheepish little voice. From here, Yugi and Joey could hear Kaiba's voice as well. It was stern, quiet, but not particularly angry. "We…kinda lost track of time," Mokuba said, and he sounded more nervous now that he'd heard his brother speak. "No, we're still at the game shop. Noa was showing me how to play Bent Chain. I…no, Niisama. I finished it before we started playing. Yes, Niisama. Y-Yes, Niisama. I understand. Uh-huh. O-Okay, then. See you…soon. I'm sorry, Niisama. I…love you," he finished lamely.

Everyone in the room could hear Kaiba roll his eyes as a smile crept onto his face in direct spite of him. "Love you, too, kid. I'll be there in a minute. Pack up."

Mokuba flipped the thin machine shut and slipped it into a pocket, looking guiltier than ever. Considering that whatever reprimand Kaiba had leveled on him couldn't have been all that serious, the agonized expression on the boy's face was entirely out of place. Yugi thought he understood; Mokuba prided himself on living up to his brother's expectations, prided himself more than anything on making his Niisama proud. To disappoint him even the slightest bit was a betrayal.

Joey looked irate.

But Noa, once again, was looking studious, as grim and focused as though he were in court, and Yugi had a sneaking suspicion that the middle Kaiba brother could read more in the boy's expression than Yugi ever would.

Verse Four.

Yami was a twitch away from taking over again by the time Seto Kaiba strode up to the shop, as Yugi unlocked the door to let him in. Kaiba stood just in the doorway, looking halfway between irritated and amused at the way his brother was scrambling to gather up his things. Noa proved much faster at packing up the game. His hands moved in a blur, his face completely blank of all expression as he worked. Yugi half-expected him to re-cover the box in shrink-wrap and set it back on the shelf. Instead, he handed it to Mokuba, who reached into a pocket and handed Yugi $30.

As Yugi grabbed the young Kaiba's change, he noticed a certain residual hostility between Kaiba and Joey. Even though they had known each other for several years, even though Mokuba had tried on numerous occasions to get them to reconcile, they still seemed hell-bent on hating each other with such a rabid intensity that breathing in front of each other was offensive.
"'Sup, bitch?" the blond asked simply, putting on a thoroughly fake smile and winking at the eldest Kaiba brother.

"You delight in mediocrity, don't you?" Kaiba asked. "Is that honestly the best you can do?"

"When've you ever been worth my best?" the blond shot back.

It seemed like, as Kaiba had put on his patented scowl, Mokuba had borrowed his previous expression and was now halfway between telling them to knock it off and telling them to get a room. Yugi noted, however, that yet again Noa looked thoroughly, inexorably enthralled. His eyes were unnaturally bright as they shifted from one combatant to the other, seeming not so much to study their interaction so much as absorb it.

"I'd expect you to espouse such a method of conduct," Kaiba sneered, rolling his eyes. "Typical." He raised an eyebrow at Yugi. "Is there a particular reason you're staring at me, Mutou? Mokuba, your backpack is open; your binder is about to spill onto the floor." The black-haired boy blinked, checked his pack, and blushed.

Yugi cleared his throat and stepped out from behind the counter, handing Mokuba a $5 bill. He gestured to the Millennium Puzzle around his neck, looking sheepish. "Someone's back in town," he said, "and he's…excited to see you again."

To say that Kaiba looked merely disgusted would have been criminal. If there were words to describe the depth of the hatred in those cobalt eyes, Yugi didn't know them. They singed his skin. But from within him, he could feel that soaring exhiliration that had always been so intoxicating when Yami had taken over in the dueling arena. The ghost that dwelled inside the Labyrinth of Princes was beyond ecstatic right now. Yugi could feel laughter bubbling up in his throat, and he had to force himself to keep it down. Laughing at a Kaiba when he looked like that was tantamount to a death wish.

"You're sure you finished everything for tomorrow, Mokuba?" Kaiba asked, eventually deciding that saying anything to Yugi wouldn't be worth the trouble.

"Yes, Niisama," Mokuba answered.

Aha, came Yami's voice, and Yugi was compelled to search Kaiba's face for something he couldn't see. Yes. That's it. I see. How unbelievably…perfect. Oh, mark me, Aibou, this is going to be glorious. Absolutely beautiful to behold. Yugi looked at Mokuba now, even though he hadn't told his muscles to do anything, and the boy still looked crestfallen and guilty.

Now he looked at Noa, who wasn't looking at anybody anymore. His eyes were closed as he stood in the middle of the floor, and he looked like he was muttering something under his breath. Yugi couldn't hear, and neither could Yami. Mokuba had finished wrestling with his backpack and had it settled against his back. Noa didn't say a word as he walked out of the shop, and Yami very nearly giggled. Sometimes Yugi didn't understand in the slightest what fascinated him so thoroughly about these people, and suspected that he didn't, either. Nonetheless, he was practically bursting as Mokuba waved goodbye—and Kaiba didn't—and they both left after their adoptive sibling.

And just like that, the second-most-awkward day in Yugi Mutou's life seemed to be over.

He wondered if Yami intended to let him sleep.

Judging from the laughter ringing in his ears right now…he doubted it.

"Sometimes I wonder about that kid," Joey muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the counter. "Think he just likes assholes or something? I mean, first Kaiba, now Noa. He's on goddamn cloud twelve 'cuz he lives with two pricks now? The hell's wrong with him?"

"Well, if he does just have a penchant for assholes," Yugi said dryly, "it would explain pretty easily why he hangs out with you."

Joey let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh. "Oh, ha-ha. You so fah-nny. Anybody ever tell you, you suck? Seriously, Yug, what's up with that kid? He's, like, defective or something."

Yugi began cleaning up what little Noa hadn't bothered with, taking up the folding chairs and leaning them against the wall opposite the cash register behind the counter, saying, "They don't show their good sides around us because we don't matter to them. Besides, what's Noa done to piss you off?"

Joey snorted. "Whaddaya think I am, a fuckin' idiot? That guy's faker 'n a six-dollar bill." He picked up the card table, lay it on its side and tucked in the legs. As he started rolling it out of the room, he added, "Gonna get himself hurt eventually. You know that, right? Don't serve you no good, clingin' to people like that 'n hopin' they'll come through for you." Once finished with the table, he stepped out and started climbing the stairs toward the residential section of the building. Yugi followed him, face unreadable. "They'll drop the ball eventually, and it'll bleed like fuckin' hell."

Yugi found a half-amused, half-pained smile. "That's part of the problem. I bet he knows already. I bet he knows, and can't bring himself to care. He can't admit to himself they might hurt him, because that would mean giving them up. And he…can't do that. They're all the guidance he's got. Without them…what is he?"

The mirth had vanished from the spirit in Yugi Mutou's mind.

Now he was brooding.

He mused: You both sound as though you speak from experience.

Verse Five.

It was nearing 11 that night when Noa slipped into Mokuba's room to find his young brother sitting asleep at his desk, head cradled on his folded arms over a pile of worksheets and binder paper. A half-gone pencil was clutched in one hand as the black-haired boy mumbled incoherently in his sleep. Noa found a tiny smile as he stood just past the doorway with his hands in his pockets.

When Noa had first taken the Bent Chain box off the shelf at Yugi's shop, suggesting that he and Mokuba start a game, the youngest Kaiba had been apprehensive. "I have…I have to…oh, okay. Let's do it." And he'd grinned his trademark Mokuba grin, and they'd played. For a first-time player, Mokuba had been entirely too good. After a while, he'd really gotten into it, and time ceased to have any meaning.

"I'll set my third unit here, and General Ika will come in down the middle."

"Fourth infantry hits here."

"Dragon-rider on the left up here."

"Illiad up the diagonal."

And so on. The game, meant to be played in rounds over two or three days, was done before they realized any time had passed at all. It was dark out; after 8 o' clock. And now Noa realized that he'd made a mistake. Mokuba had intended to do his homework at the shop that day. But he'd gotten caught up in the game that Noa had pushed him into playing; he'd lied to Seto.

He hadn't finished, not by a long shot. An English handout and half a Math worksheet lay under his arms. Two textbooks lay open in front of him, and a calculator was perched on the edge of his desk. Noa stood with his hands in his pockets, unable to hide a smile in spite of the situation. He knew this wasn't a good thing. Mutou and his minions thought he was a sociopath, and he knew it, but the truth of the matter was that he'd simply learned how to prioritize.

Mokuba was important. They were not. That was the end of it for him.

He picked up one of the other sheets of paper on the boy's desk and scanned it. His eyes traced his brother's handwriting. It was impossible to describe, even for Noa himself, how he managed to analyze Mokuba's writing style, his thought process, his creative process…but it was all here. He read it all. He saw it all. It was impossible to describe what he could see, what he knew, but he knew it. Oh, yes. He knew it.

A part of him knew that neither of his siblings would truly appreciate this next gesture, but most of him knew that it didn't matter. Not now. It would have mattered two hours ago, when Mokuba was still conscious. It would have mattered seven hours ago, when Noa had suggested they play a game and didn't bother to ask if Mokuba had anything to do before they started because this game took a long time to finish.

Now, there was nothing but the task that needed doing.

Noa slipped the unfinished work from beneath his brother's arms, the small pile pushed off to the side, the textbooks, and headed out of the room. Mokuba didn't stir. Noa slipped back into the bedroom he had claimed as his own, which was still bare save for a spare bed that had been moved into it on the first day. He sat down, and set to work.

As he wrote—in his brother's hand, with his brother's voice—Noa thought about what he had seen that day. Not of Mokuba or his friends, but of Seto. The eternal enigma that was the man who could have passed for his twin. In the week or so since he had lived at the Kaiba Estate since his rebirth, he had made attempts to determine just how best to gain his elder's trust. He knew that it wouldn't be easy, knew that it would take time and commitment and that it would be nearly impossible to do. But nonetheless, he knew that he had to do it.

He, Seto, and Gozaburo were all of a mind in that regard: there was only the mission. There was only the task. Not the difficulty, not the complexity, not the hardship, not the sacrifice. He needed to do it. It would be done. Mokuba wanted his brothers to get along. Mokuba wanted a family. He would have one. That was the end of it. But thus far, he had had almost no luck in even getting the man's attention. Seto was bound and determined to ignore Noa's very existence, and didn't Noa know what that felt like? He had been wondering what he could do to…get his foot in the door.

"…What is one reason for Twain's use of potentially offensive language throughout the course of the…"

He'd tried everything he could think to do. He had tried groveling, he had tried apathy; he had tried apathy more than once. He'd tried being confrontational, he'd tried being sheepish. He'd tried being friendly, he'd tried being outright hostile. None of it worked. Seto only acknowledged him as far as it took to ensure that he avoided his former adversary whenever conceivable.

Mokuba had noticed it, and he surely didn't like it.

But evidently Seto had decided that he'd done enough.

And really…hadn't he?

It came down to Noa.

He'd tried to emulate Mokuba's behavior, seeing as how Mokuba seemed to be the only person who ever truly commanded Seto's attention, but that hadn't worked any better than anything else, and worse than some of it.

He'd only made the mistake of calling him "Niisama" the one time.

A shudder ran through him as he thought of that particular afternoon, alongside a wave of superstitious fear that felt entirely foreign to him. Did he fear Seto Kaiba? Should he fear Seto Kaiba? He didn't know. But what he did know was this: Yugi Mutou and Joey Wheeler had caught his elder adoptive brother's attention where none of Noa's attempts had done a thing. They hadn't even done anything; it had simply happened. Without a word, Joey had earned Seto's ire. Without a single action, Yugi had earned Seto's acknowledgment.

Noa wondered why.

And how.

END.

I feel like I know who Noa is. Not as well as I probably need to know him, considering I'm working with him like this. But that's part of the process. I think the most important thing to take from this project is that Noa is trying to figure out who he is, too.

He thinks he knows. He thinks he understands. I, personally, disagree.

I think he's lost and, like any number of arrogant men, refuses to ask for directions. He's fixated on figuring out the way home on his own. Because that's how he was taught to behave.