I've always imagined Seto as a control freak.

I think it's a much better label for him than "workaholic."

That extends to a lot of things I believe about him.


.


Kisara didn't smoke, but she kept a pack of cigarettes on her person at all times. It often worked to ingratiate herself to those who did, if it was necessary; but more importantly, it made for a convenient way to avoid a conversation she didn't want to have. Whenever someone started in on a topic she had no interest in, Kisara would pull one from the pack, tuck it between her lips, and make for the nearest exit.

It didn't always work, but it worked often enough that she found it worth keeping smokes on hand.

Just in case.

"I don't imagine you to be the type to smoke," Kisara mentioned once, as Seto walked with her through a park outside Kaiba-Corp's offices. "Something about your image surely doesn't permit it."

"My predecessor was . . . particular about cigars," Seto said. "He enjoyed using them as both status symbol and show of dominance. It tended to work for him. Unfortunately, this means that the sound of a match being struck, or a lighter, tends to set my teeth on edge; to say nothing of the fact that I'm high-strung enough as it is. I don't need nicotine mucking up the works."

Kisara nodded sagely. "I understand this." She quirked an eyebrow. "Do you drink? I know that you are yet to pass that magical threshold of 21 years, but you are surrounded, so often, by high-status people at events and such. It would seem necessary, for decorum if nothing else."

"I've had drinks on occasion," Seto admitted, "but I won't pretend I've enjoyed them. Mokuba says I loosen up when I drink. He can always tell when I've been pressured into having one, because I'm in a better mood. I don't think I want to keep that going."

"Still," Kisara said, "I think that is a sign that you need to work on finding a way to . . . loosen up. Don't you?" She pulled a cigarette from her pack, like a good luck charm, and started twirling it through her fingers. "Perhaps not substances, but there are certainly other things you might try. You seem to like swimming."

Seto nodded. "It's the closest thing to meditation that I've managed to work out for myself." He gestured randomly at the air. "The more traditional methods do nothing for me. Sitting in silence only ever makes me want to grind my teeth into powder. Every other variation I've tried only ever seems to make things worse. I've only ever felt . . . calm and centered, as I hear it phrased, when I'm in the water."

Kisara nodded in turn. "Or in the arena?" she ventured.

Seto barked a laugh. "Absolutely not," he said. "I've never been calm in any arena I've ever entered in my life."

"You always seem so comfortable when surrounded by cheering people."

"That would only prove how maladaptive it is," Seto said. "I've gotten used to it." He shook his head. "No. No, water is all that works, I think. I suppose there might be other things that could give me the same feeling of belonging in my own body, which I've only ever honestly felt a handful of times in my life. But swimming is the only thing that works regularly."

Kisara studied Seto's face and didn't press.