There's usually two parts to these.
The part that ties in with the initial prompt, and then wherever the hell I end up afterward.
It's stream of consciousness, word association, something like that.
Whatever it is, I think it's working.
.
"Your parents were immigrants, yes?"
Seto nodded. "They came here to the States after they were married, but before I was born." He looked up at nothing, his gaze far away. "I wonder, sometimes, how things might have gone . . . if they'd stayed in Kinokawa. Or just stayed in Japan. Would I have become a Kaiba? Would it have been better for Mokuba if not? Would he still have found us? I . . . don't know." He shook his head. "It's easy to say I would have eventually created Solid Vision anyway, or become a Magic & Wizards player, but I can't know that."
"I think," Kisara said, "circumstances might have changed the trajectory of your life, but you still would have become a fine man. No matter where you grew, with whom, or what path you took, you would still be my prince."
Seto smirked; his face went slightly, so slightly, pink. "Thank you," he said.
"You have done many great things," Kisara continued, "and there is much to be said in praise of you for them. You have been given many advantages, yes, but you use them as best you can to elevate the people around you. The people of your city. I think, all told, your life would have been easier if you had stayed in Japan. To say otherwise would be to dismiss, or at least downplay, the horrors visited upon you throughout your life in this city."
"Hm," Seto said.
"You deserved an easier life than you've led," Kisara said. "It should not have been down to you to help save this world from oblivion. So many who are older than you, more experienced than you, better suited to the tasks than you, failed. There is a part of me, quite a loud part in fact, that wishes you had stayed in Japan. You and your family could have carved out a wonderful life for yourselves. But I am relieved, and pleased, in the same breath, that things have gone the way that they have. Because I have come to know you."
Seto's face lightened, and he smiled. "There is something to be said for that part, isn't there?" He seemed to fold inward for a while, then he said: "I think I am glad to have walked the path I have. It wasn't easy, it wasn't fair, but . . . I now have the experience and the resources necessary to make sure that no child has to go through what I did. I can help them."
"Yes," Kisara said. "You can."
Seto watched as his bothers came around the house, across the yard where he and Kisara were situated. Mokuba was seated on a skateboard, with pads and a helmet, while Noa, holding a rope tied to the nose of the board, pulled him down the sidewalk faster than any normal human would be capable of moving.
Seto chuckled, mostly to himself.
He did not call out to them; he did not wave.
He just watched.
When Noa took a sudden turn, and Mokuba went sailing off into the grass, and they both collapsed with laughter, Seto reached up and wiped tears from his eyes.
"I can help them," he said again, quietly.