This story is proving interesting to me, just because it's the first time I've ever built something with this kind of constriction to it. The idea of writing based on specific prompts just appeals to me on a level that I have a hard time properly articulating.

I mentioned a while back that this story, and its companion, will be a combination of pretty much every version of the YGO canon that I've written. For the most part, all that means is that it's a combination of the constructs and headcanons that have made up the "Paved with Good Intentions" and "Cult of the Dragon King" universes.

Which is basically my excuse for involving all of my original characters and theories into one place.

Even if they don't technically fit together.

.

"All right, Seto. We're gonna play a game."

Seto adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and glanced out the window on his left. "I'm afraid not," he said. "Theoretically, at least, I am expected to focus on my surroundings while driving. I'm afraid I'm not in a position to properly eviscerate you."

Kisara smirked, and she handed her fiancé a playful punch to the arm. "Not that kind of game. Not a competition. A social exercise."

Seto rolled his eyes. "Predicated by my ability to be social at will."

"Open forum in this car, folks," Kisara said, addressing not just the Kaiba patriarch but the three children tucked into the backseat. "What . . . is the meaning of life?"

"Well, that's just bad form," Seto said. "You suggested this exercise, so you should provide an example."

Kisara hummed, screwing her face up as she thought, before finally saying: "The meaning of life is in each person's mission to find their purpose. That's why animals don't live as long. They already know. We think our big human brains are so superior to everything else's, but really we just end up tripping over ourselves trying to attach value to whatever shiny things we can find."

"That sounds suspiciously like an attack on capitalism," Seto muttered, "which is a very dangerous prospect when you're associated so closely to a billionaire."

Kisara smirked again. "Awww . . . don't worry. You'll do something meaningful with your life someday, sweetie."

"Mm," Seto grunted. "I'm sure."

"The meaning of life is ice cream," Mokuba said with conviction. "The height of human ingenuity, condensed into something wholesome and lovely, that only exists to make people happy. It's a base, and you can put anything you want on it! Sprinkles, peanut butter cups, cookies, whatever you want! And if you eat too much of it, you'll die."

Seto maintained a straight face for precisely five seconds before he started snickering.

"I think the meaning of life is just . . . life," was Rebecca Hawkins's contribution to the discussion. "Just being here, and doing what we can. Live, love, learn. That's what we do. That's what we're supposed to do."

Connor Brinkley, quiet and unassuming, sitting in between his friends and looking supremely awkward, said: "I don't . . . really know. My mom says the same thing Rebecca just said, though. So I'll go with that."

"Mmmm . . . cheating, but I guess if you learned it from your mom, I can allow it," Kisara said thoughtfully. "Okay, smart guy. Your turn."

Seto's face went neutral again. He was staring at the road again.

". . . There is no meaning to life. Life simply is. Placing some arbitrary label on it just limits our understanding of anything. If I tell you that the meaning of life is to find your purpose, then what about a person who doesn't live long enough to find it? Or finds it, but doesn't pursue it because they don't have a choice? Is that life wasted?"

Kisara blinked. "No. Of course not."

"What if someone's purpose in life is to cure cancer? But they can't, because they're too poor to afford an education, or they live in a country with no access to proper equipment? What if they're a woman, or gay, or young, or whatever other ultimately pointless prejudices get in the way of them being taken seriously? Is that life pointless?"

"No."

"The value, and meaning, of life . . . is up to each of us who have it. Our actions, our thoughts, our beliefs, have no meaning in the greater scope of the universe. Which means, ultimately, that we decide, for ourselves, what is important. Because it's that microcosm that matters. It's that prism, that sphere of influence, that makes a difference to humanity."

Kisara smiled quietly.

Connor and Rebecca were staring.

Seto shrugged. "That being said . . . Mokuba does have a point."

Then they were all laughing.