For those of you who will read this multiple times, I apologize. Feel free to ignore this if you've already seen it, and move on to the chapter. Also, fair warning: some harsh language comes in this time, courtesy of a new character.

Here in my neck of the woods, it is now the 9th day of February, in the year 2012. Ten years ago today, I came across Fanfiction-dot-Net. I proceeded to publish "Lonely, Broken Hero," the first story I wrote that ever felt complete. It was inspired by a song, written for the Square-Enix game "Chrono Trigger," and marked the beginning of a lifelong passion.

Since February 9th, 2002, I have had the honor of meeting some of the greatest people on earth. These people have given me 5,885 reviews, thousands of Favorites, and over 1.8 million hits across 40 projects. These people have supported me, cheered for me, informed me, criticized me, and helped me embark on some of the most memorable journeys of my life. I never would have made it without them.

To celebrate this illustrious anniversary, and to thank you for being the best audience an author could ever ask for, I have written extra chapters for each of my 8 ongoing projects. I present them to you now, and humble myself before you. Were it not for you, these stories never would have come into being, or lasted nearly as long as they have.

Thank you again. You all have changed my life.

Here's to another decade of adventure and exploration.

Enjoy.

Verse One.

"A tattoo? Seriously."

Noa turned to face his elder brother, raising a curious eyebrow. "Is that a problem?" he asked, quaintly polite. "Surely it isn't against your employment policy, Kaiba-shachou. Artistic expression is the crux of your business, is it not?"

Seto shrugged. "I'm not that stupid or that petty," he said. "I merely wondered at your choice of expression. I would have thought that you, of all people, would refrain from the outright cliché of having Japanese characters grafted to your skin."

Indeed, bold and prominent down Noa's upper right arm were the following:

モ

ク

バ

"There's a difference," Noa said. "I actually know what it means."

"As do I," Seto replied with a certain amount of irritation. "Do you not find it somewhat…forced? As though I don't know your allegiance already? As if anyone with a brain in this city hadn't already figured out that you prefer his company."

Noa chuckled. "You're jealous," he said, grinning broadly. "Oh. My. G. You're jealous, aren't you?"

Seto actually looked physically ill. "Excuse me?"

"You are!" Noa laughed. "That's adorable. Don't worry, Aniki. It doesn't mean I don't love you. It's just that I play favorites. Oh, and as to the real reason this bothers you, I could have gotten a locket like you have, but I thought it was a bit tacky to steal your shtick. I'd like to showcase my solidarity, too, you know." He glanced at his arm. "Besides. I'm street."

Seto stared for a moment longer, then rolled his eyes and turned away. "Well, then, go and pick him up from school, since you're so loyal. He seems to have taken a liking to having you walk with him." Was there bitterness in his voice? Noa wasn't sure, but he filed it away just the same. "I'll be home at nine-thirty or so. Roland will be stationed at the house. Do not let him eat his way into a sugar-induced coma."

"Roland?" Noa asked, his grin widening. "He doesn't seem like he'd have an eating disorder, Aniki. Or a sweet tooth, for that matter."

Seto sneered. "Get moving. His last class lets out in three minutes."

"Aye-aye, Mister President!" Noa went ramrod straight, saluted, and rocketed out of the front door as though he intended to start a footrace with God. Seto sighed heavily, shook his head, and grabbed his coat.

"Family is important," he muttered to himself. "Family is important. Family is important."

He continued in this vein all the way out to his car and as he slipped inside, only to find a basket of cookies sitting on his passenger seat. Confusion bordering on rampant terror met the eldest Kaiba's face as he picked up a small card sitting atop the shrink-wrap.

Niisama,

Noa said it would be cute, and funny. I agreed.

Love you,

Mokuba

Seto blinked. Wet his lips.

Blinked again.

His smirk returned as he backed out of the front gates, and by the time he made it to Kaiba-Corp's main parking garage he was in a rather good mood again.

Sort of.

He set the cookies on the receptionists' desk as he slipped the card into a jacket pocket, ignoring the thoroughly flabbergasted look on Kyoko's face.

Verse Two.

It had been a long time, so long that he really couldn't remember, since Mokuba Kaiba had been a target of bullying. Some of it had to do with public exposure; while he had been seen in public any number of times with his brother, and had given presentations for Kaiba-Corp, he had also been cultivating an online presence through various games and social networks; Seto had only half-suggested the idea of starting a YouTube channel as a way to express himself without the label of the Kaiba Corporation hanging over his head, but the youngest Kaiba had grown up learning never to do anything halfway.

He'd started that YouTube channel, but he'd also started a blog, and signed up with Twitter, Facebook, and anything else he could think of; his popularity, first gained only through his name, had shot up like a rocket in the past year or so. Mokuba didn't like to think too much about his web-stardom (as someone had called it in a random article); it rather embarrassed him. But one of the most important things that it had done for him was to virtually eradicate any semblance of bullying at school. He had too many supporters (he refused to call them "followers," as it made him think of a religious cult).

Until now, apparently.

Mokuba was waiting at the corner for Noa to arrive when he was met instead by a rather gangly-looking ninth-grader with a serious chip on his shoulder. He was dressed…well? He had the look of a contemptuous sort of snobby kid, whose parents made good money but had few actual parenting skills; his button-down shirt was half-tucked-in beneath a sweater with some university's crest on it; he had shoulder-length hair that was messy—not on purpose, but simply because he hadn't bothered to comb it (or at least that's how Mokuba looked at it); and he had a certain level of what Seto sometimes called homegrown self-importance. He had a couple of friends with him—or what passed for friends in this kid's mind—and they were even worse. Mokuba didn't bother acknowledging the flunkies with his gaze; he kept his eyes locked on the leader.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

The gangly ninth-grader sneered. "I don't like your attitude," he spat. "Strutting around like you own the fucking world. You and your asshole brother."

Mokuba's countenance, cool and distant to start with, turned frigid. "My brother prefers to respond to accusations of asshole-ism directly," he said mechanically, as though he were a secretary answering a phone. "If you'd leave your name and address, I can pass along your comments, and he'll get back to you."

"You think you're clever," the gangly ninth-grader hissed. "I'm clever, too."

"Fascinating," Mokuba said. "I'd ask you to explain, but I'm sure you already intended to do that." He put on an expression of keen expectation, looking almost manic as he did so. "Tell me! Wise and powerful elder! How clever are you?"

"Macky," said one of the flunkies, "he's makin' fun of you. Oughtta teach him some manners. Seems his brother's too busy to bother with it himself."

Macky smirked. "Yeah." He watched as his brilliantly deductive attendants stepped forward and grabbed Mokuba's arms, holding him in place. The young Kaiba didn't respond, letting himself be pinned, his face thoroughly and inexorably blank.

He might have been scared, if he hadn't been a Kaiba.

As it was, Mokuba simply stared. "Thanks," he said, "but I don't need help standing up."

"You will when I'm through with you, Kaiba," Macky said with a grimace.

"Well, good thing your friends are already here, then," Mokuba replied with a sunny smile. "It'd be kind of embarrassing to fall down out here where everyone can see."

Macky's eyes narrowed. "…You threatening me, Kaiba?" he asked in a low whisper.

Mokuba's eyebrows went up. "Nope. But he will."

Macky's face went slack, and he only turned around when he noticed that his friends had gone as pale as bed-sheets.

Noa stood there, dressed all in black except for his gleaming white sneakers, his hands in his pockets. He was dressed casually in black jeans and a tight black shirt with no sleeves. His well-toned arms were left bare, so that Mokuba could see he'd gotten a tattoo on the right one, starting just below the shoulder. Noa's face was expressionless, but his light blue eyes were dancing.

"…There a problem here, boys?" he asked.

"Let me introduce you," Mokuba said. "This is my cousin, Noa. Noa, this is Macky. I guess they're worried I won't be able to walk for very much longer, 'cuz these guys are holding me up. Isn't that thoughtful?"

"Oh, yeah," Noa replied, still expressionless. "Goddamn doctors without borders, you are."

"When'd you show up?" Macky squawked, like Noa was breaking some kind of rule by being here. "Who the hell're you? I ain't never heard of Kaiba having any cousins!"

"Damn. You caught me." Noa rolled his shoulders and took his hands out of his pockets. He stretched his fingers. "If you haven't heard of me, I must not exist." His eyes went wide, his expression quite insane, and even Mokuba shivered. "Guess that means I'm just an enthusiast, then."

Verse Three.

"I don't care what you are," Macky snarled, and Mokuba at least had to give the idiot credit for not backing down and crying like a little girl. He attributed that more to wanton stupidity than bravery, but really…was there any real difference when you got right down to it? "You Kaibas all got this thing where you think you can do whatever the hell you want. Makes me sick."

"You should see a doctor," Noa murmured. There were no traces of his usual mirth on his face right now. He stared down at Macky like a judge waiting to pass sentence.

"Fuck you!" Macky shouted. "Buying and selling whoever you damn well please, don't give a shit about what it means for the rest of us! Riding around in your limos with your imported suits and six-thousand-dollar shoes so you can step on the people who gave it to you!"

"The only people who ever gave me anything are the ones who gave me life," Noa replied flatly.

"Oh, you just think you're a fucking messiah, don't you? Bet you're thinking what does this little shit-stain think he's doing, talking to me? You think I've got no right to look at you, don't you? It's a free damn country, least it's s'posed to be, and you're all just petering around like it's a monarchy, happy as you damn well please, letting the slaves do all the damn work."

The more Macky spoke, the more anger began to well up in Mokuba's chest.

Noa didn't look the faintest perturbed, however. Rather, he seemed amused.

Macky continued: "Well, looky here, Your damn-fuck Majesty, look what the peasant's gone and done! He's got your little mascot cornered, doesn't he? Doesn't he?"

The deeper Macky dug, the happier Noa seemed to get. His lips curved, slowly at first. Then he began to show his teeth—they were sneaking out like guards hiding behind a gate—and Mokuba realized that this wasn't going to end well.

He looks like that guy from 300, Mokuba thought, and on the heels of that he murmured, beneath his breath, "…Then we will fight in the shade…" so quiet that nobody took notice of it. But as Macky continued ranting, Noa continued to grin at him.

Then Noa began to speak, cutting Macky off mid-curse: "There's a funny little thing about fighting. People watch movies and TV, and they get this idea that it's easy. That all you have to do is curl up your fist and be the first one to shove it in the other guy's face, and you win."

Macky's fury began to leave him, making room for confusion.

"People forget," Noa continued, "that behind the other guy's face is a skull, and skulls are hard. Hardest bones in the human body, you know, and if you aren't careful about how you punch one, you'll come away with a broken hand. Maybe you'll cut a knuckle on some poor sap's teeth, and get infected."

Noa looked at his own hand as he made a fist. He seemed mesmerized by it.

"What…the hell…?" Macky breathed. "You tryin' to threaten me now?"

"And kicks?" Noa continued, blissfully ignorant of his audience. "Don't even get me started on kicking. Freaking useless. Puts you off-balance, can't put enough force behind one to do any kinda real damage. Leaves your junk open, too, which…you know. That's a problem, I hear."

"That shit isn't gonna work on me!" Macky snarled. "Damn Kaibas! Think you can just…just…you better not think you can get away with anything, you…you…bastard! You'll be in court before you can—"

"But!" Noa cut him off, holding up one finger like he was announcing a prize. "You know what's fun? I'm an exception to all these rules and stuff. Know why?" He looked like he actually wanted Macky to say something. "C'mon, guess. Guess why I'm different."

"'Cuz you're rich, and this country gets off on catering to you, even though you don't deserve it," Macky muttered.

Noa giggled. Actually giggled. "Nope!"

And then his countenance changed completely. From maniacally happy to mechanically flat so quickly that Mokuba's vision blurred and he thought he must be dreaming. Macky hitched in a breath and went stiff. Next moment, before thought itself had time to catch up, the middle Kaiba whirled and sent a shining white shoe cracking against Macky's temple.

Watching impassively as the young teenager crumpled in the fetal position where he'd landed on the concrete, conscious but moaning piteously, Noa said, "…I'm the goddamn T-1000, motherfucker."

Verse Four.

"…Cousin?"

The advent of such a primetime-sitcom moment in a thoroughly inappropriate atmosphere was nothing especially new in the Mutou household; nonetheless, the fact that Téa, Tristan, and Joey all shouted this at precisely the same moment caused a tic of stone-faced shock to slam itself into the air, and all time seemed to stop.

Yami ignored his three companions entirely, his gaze still locked on Malik. The young tomb-keeper had wrestled up on his feet, and was now staring just as intently back at the spirit king. Clearly there was no love lost between these two. The tension between them was palpable…and it stung. Malik, very clearly not himself, swept a regal glare across the entirety of the room, and sneered. "You seem to treat your position as a game, my predecessor." The word was slathered with enough disdain to make Kaiba proud. "As always you have."

Yami's smirk returned. "And we return to this song and dance. My, but you never did have much patience. And you wonder why my father called you dangerous."

"You coat your tongue with your typical flippancy, after you've already proved yourself to be inadequate!" Malik snarled. He held up the Millennium Rod as though it were a scepter. "Or does this not prove the point?"

"I dearly apologize, Cousin," Yami said. "Indeed, I have failed. I do not believe that holds any particular pertinence in the question of your possessing my servant. And so again, I ask you to release him." Wine-colored eyes flashed with sudden power. "Unless, of course, you wish to anger me."

Malik arched his back, gasped with a mixture of pain and relief that sounded almost sensual, then crumpled to the floor again, unconscious. A bare moment later, Rishid stumbled forward a step, then raised his head to stare at the ceiling. Slowly, he lowered his gaze to meet Yami's. "Does that suffice?" he asked, his voice deeper and harsher than was usual.

"And you speak of flippancy," Yami muttered. "You were many things in life, Cousin. A hypocrite was not one of them. Clearly the centuries have not been kind. Tell me: why do you show yourself before me? Why do you threaten the safety of my people?"

Rishid's eyes narrowed. "You speak of servants. I seek mine."

Yami raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. "Oh, but this will be delicious."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa," Joey said, holding up his hands. "Mind puttin' on the brakes a second, here? What the fuck's going on?"

"Far be it from me to infringe upon the affairs of spirits," Isis said, "but I must ask the same question: who is this man, who would possess my brothers like dolls? You cannot mean that he is…"

"Oh, indeed," Yami said. "Who else might it be?" His smirk returned. "When I met my end, the man whose spirit now inhabits your sibling took my throne. Rishid Ishtar's body is now controlled by Seti, first of his name, son of Akhenaten. Son of my esteemed uncle. Wave to the good people, Majesty. Mind your manners, now."

Rishid scowled. "My servant, Atemhotep."

"Are we so familiar?" Yami's smirk widened. "Did I relinquish permission for you to call me by name? My memory seems to be failing me."

"Enough of this!" Rishid shouted, retrieving the Millennium Rod from the floor and unsheathing from it the glinting blade attached to the head. "You seem so protective of your people." He brought the blade to his own throat. "Perhaps their blood will loosen your tongue?"

Yami actually laughed. "You are desperate! Does a mere smattering of four-thousand years unhinge you so much? Drop the blade, you idiot, I will tell you what you wish to know." Yami returned to his chair and sat down. "Sit, Seti. Sit. Miss Ishtar. Might you take up your brother and let him rest on the couch?"

She did so.

Rishid stepped closer to the dead monarch, still scowling.

"…Another pharaoh?" Téa murmured.

"Just what we fuckin' need," Joey said. "Another magical whackjob."

Yami leaned back, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and touching his fingertips together. "Now then, Seti. Since you seem so adamant, I will tell you what you wish to know. Your servant is, indeed, in this city. Blood of your blood, heart of your heart. I can direct you to , and I have every intention of doing so. But allow me to dispense some friendly advice first, for my uncle's sake: if you seek to match wills with this man, it will be your undoing. Be diplomatic, as you were so many centuries ago. Employ your honeyed tongue. Come to him in your current state, and he will destroy you."

For the first time, the spirit seemed pleased. An expression that was all too familiar visited Rishid's face. His lips curled in a savage facsimile of happiness. "Is that so…?"

"So it is," Yami said.

"What are you talking about?" Tristan asked. "Who are you talking about?"

"The blood of kings runs deep in this city," Yami said. "Our direct descendants have both made their lives here. You know that mine, of course, is young Yugi. Follow his lineage back far enough, and you will come to me. I am deep within the roots of his family tree. Seti is simply looking for his descendent. His…great-great-great-et-cetera grandson, as it were."

Rishid nodded. "Where is he?"

"West of here," Yami said. "On the outskirts of the city. Instinct will guide you there."

"Who is it?" Téa demanded.

"Who else would it be?" Yami asked, looking surprised.

But they all continued to stare blankly at him.

Only Isis Ishtar seemed to know. In a soft voice, she spoke for Yami:

"…Seto Kaiba."

END.

If you're like me, you have just one question after reading this: what was Seto smoking, that he would allow Mokuba to watch 300?

Okay, maybe not. Either way, I'm just gonna say that Mokuba figured out a way to circumvent authority on that one. He's not a perfect little angel, after all. He breaks the rules sometimes.

By the way, the three characters that make up Noa's new tattoo are katakana, one of the Japanese alphabets. They read thusly:

"Mo" – "Ku" – "Ba."

Yeah, I went there. What can I say? I'm a romantic.

I hope that you all don't mind the gratuitous movie references or the caricature of high school too much. Sometimes, reality must be stretched in order for the story to work. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Seti I (Sethos I), historically, was a king in the Nineteenth Dynasty, the father of Ramesses II, one of the most famous kings to ever rule Egypt; as has been mentioned before, I've tweaked history a bit to make room for Seto's ancestor. He, like Yami, takes the place of a king in the Fourth Dynasty, the Old Kingdom and the Age of the Pyramids. Where Yami's reign roughly corresponds with that of Djedefra, Seti's fits with Khafra's. The second-largest pyramid at Giza belonged to him, incidentally.

Speaking of pyramids, the Great Pyramid, also at Giza, belonged to Yami's father in this version of events. For future reference, you know.

All kings before and after these three are left as they are in our own history.

I'll see you all next time.

Take it easy.