The older I get, the more I tend to think of the Kaibas in the same vein as I think of Batman. As in, the real Batman, from the comics. The nice to kids, invest in public infrastructure, gives jobs to people he's thrown in Arkham if they want to turn over a new leaf Batman.
They use their money to make their community better.
That's kind of the whole point of money, to me.
And it's part of the power fantasy that the Kaibas represent.
.
"The thing about money," Noa said, quite dramatically, "is that it's bullshit. It's all absolute nonsense." He looked like he was ready to pull out a stick of chalk and start drawing on the walls. "It doesn't mean anything, and I don't think it ever meant anything."
"I feel like I should eat you right now," Ryo muttered.
"I'm not going off on some money won't make you happy screed," Noa said, waving randomly in Ryo's general direction. "My point is that people put so much status on it. How much money someone has is shorthand for how important they are. There's no reason for that! Who cares? Am I more important than you? Am I worth more than you?"
"Objectively," Ryo said, "yes."
"Yeah, why?" Noa looked legitimately upset. "Because my father was a tyrannical asshole?" He pointed. "That clock on the wall. How much did it cost?"
"Thirty dollars," Ryo said.
Noa held up his wrist, showing Ryo the watch he was wearing. "I could buy sixty of those clocks with the money spent on this. They both do the same thing. Precisely the same thing. I don't like smart watches. I prefer my equipment to be dumb as a box of rocks. My watch doesn't even have Garfield on it." Noa looked down at his wrist, frowning. "I should get a Garfield watch."
"Focus," Ryo said, like Mokuba had taught him.
Noa blinked. "Right, right. Okay. So, anyway, the point is this: everything about the world economy, but especially here where we live, is horseshit. You shouldn't have to suffer, or be expected to suffer, just because you happen to have fewer power coupons than I do."
"Power coupons?" Ryo repeated.
Noa shrugged. "That's what Hahaue always called money." He cleared his throat. "Even if it did mean something that I was born into billions, what does any of it mean if I can't spend it how I want? Now, I know what you're about to say. Something about how that argument could be used to justify hunting people for sport, like on a private island or something. Didn't Pegasus Crawford do that? I remember hearing about player killers. Could I pay to hunt Pegasus Crawford, do you think? I wonder how much I'd have to offer him . . ."
"Focus."
"Ahem! So, all this is to say, no more of this talking about how you don't want to owe me anything. You don't owe me anything. And I think I can prove it to you. If you just think about it in terms of proportion, I feel like it will make more sense." Noa held up a hand. "Here. Watch. I'll assuage you of any guilt you could ever have about taking shit from me. Okay? Ready?"
Ryo scowled. "I'm listening."
"How much money you got in your wallet right now?"
Ryo reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and glanced inside it. "I have . . . a five, and five ones." He gestured. "I have change in my other pocket, but I need that for the bus later. So, for the purposes of whatever you're doing right now, I have ten dollars."
"Got it." Noa nodded. "So, let's say I wanted to borrow a dollar. That's ten percent of what you've got there, yeah?"
"Sure." Ryo still looked, and felt, thoroughly suspicious.
Noa reached into his pocket and took out a money clip. He slowly, dramatically, placed five hundred-dollar bills onto the table. "This is how much I'd have to give you, to match your dollar proportionally. Right now."
Ryo's scowl deepened.
He glared up at Noa. "You're right," he said flatly. "I don't feel guilty anymore. And I don't owe you."
Noa grinned. "That's the ticket!"