It might seem like I'm making the Kaiba family too soft. I beg patience. Trust me. It's not my aim to woobify them or anything like that. My point with this story is to explore just how far Gozaburo fell when Noa died in canon.

That's the first main element of this story.

The others . . . well. They'll come about in due time.

.

Behind Kaiba Manor, taking up the rest of the property, was a vast sweeping garden. The stone path that wound its way through it was like the serpent escaping from Eden, and Amaya guided Seto through it in silence. Seto followed her dutifully, quite content to maintain that silence. When she stopped at a bench near a little koi pond and sat down, Seto sat beside her.

"Seto," said Amaya, while she watched the fish, "you've proved something important today. Do you know that?"

Seto frowned, then shook his head. "I don't . . . think so," he said. "What do you mean?"

She turned her eyes to him and held out one hand. Seto placed his own atop it, and she took hold gently. "You were wronged. Utterly. There is no excuse for what you faced today. Neither I nor my husband ever impressed upon Giichi that he had leave to strike you. For that, there will never be words enough to express the apology you deserve."

Seto watched his hand, held in his mother's, and didn't speak.

He thought about telling her that he'd faced worse, that Giichi's switch hadn't really hurt that much; after all, the bleeding had already stopped. Seto realized just as he thought about these things, however, that he shouldn't say them.

"However," Amaya went on, "you weathered this mistreatment without bending. You did not complain. You did not come to me or my husband, either, which tells me something else about you." She leaned forward. "More than that, though, more than any of it, you did not cow. He told you that it was not your place to complain, and you told him that a correction isn't a complaint. You faced him with strength and conviction. You did not let him defeat you."

Seto tilted his head. "I wasn't sure if you'd heard anything. Before you came."

"I heard enough," Amaya said. "I want you to know, here and now, two things: if I am to be your guardian, then it is my responsibility to impress on you when you make mistakes, and when you perform well. You have done both today."

Seto flinched. ". . . What was my mistake?" he dared to ask.

"You did not come to me, or to my husband, when you were mistreated." Amaya rubbed Seto's hand with her thumb. "I believe this is simple enough to explain: you do not trust us yet. You have had precious few adults on whom you can rely, and you no doubt have learned that 'tattling' will only result in more trouble. I only call this behavior a mistake as a matter of course. I place no blame on you. However, when you do make a mistake, it is my duty to correct you. When next you are treated unjustly, when next you believe yourself to be treated as less than you are, I ask that you come to me."

Seto waited a moment, drew in a breath, and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Now, then." Amaya smiled. "That business is done. Let us return to the other half of my duty. I am proud of you." She leaned in close and lightly kissed Seto's forehead. "You have acted in a way that suits a Kaiba. You are strong, you are tenacious, and you will not be broken. That is well. That is right."

Seto allowed himself to smile; he felt his face go hot. "Thank you," he said.

"My husband has told me that you have plans for this city," Amaya said. "You wish to make Domino a better place than it is."

"I do," said Seto.

"The way to ensure that you are able to do that," Amaya continued, "is to ensure a proper education. Tell me, if you would: before joining us here, where did you attend school?"

"Domino Middle School," Seto said. "Before Mokie and I were sent to live with . . . before we left our home, I attended Phoenix Gate Academy."

Amaya's eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "A private school," she noted. "Your parents had high hopes for you. I suppose the Domino Children's Home didn't have the resources necessary for you to remain there."

"It doesn't," Seto said.

"Did you like your time at Phoenix? Did you learn? Did you grow?"

Seto nodded. "I liked it. It's a good school. Papa did a lot of work to keep me there. He said it was important for me to keep up with my education, even though things were so different with Mama gone. He said she wouldn't want me to worry about her, but to do my best to forge ahead." He paused, then dared to say: "I think Papa wanted my godparents to use his life insurance money to keep me at Phoenix. They didn't."

Amaya frowned. "I see," she said solemnly. "Would you like to return to Phoenix Gate Academy?"

Seto couldn't hide the surprise, nor the manic hope, that rose up in him at the thought of going back to the school his parents had picked for him; the one place, above almost all others, where he'd felt like he belonged. Oh, sure, he'd never fit in with his classmates, rich children all, but his teachers had always treated him like . . . like . . .

Like a person.

". . . I would," Seto said.

"All right, then," Amaya said. "Since your time with Giichi was so short, I think it would be best to start clean with somewhere more suited to you." She ruffled Seto's hair. "I'll see to it. As for you, I want you to head to the staff-room on the ground floor and see Mio. I want her to have a look at your back."

Seto thought again about telling Amaya that it didn't hurt; that the pain was already more than manageable. That the prospect of returning to a proper school was more than enough recompense for anything Giichi Muraoka could have ever done to him.

He stopped himself.

"Yes, ma'am," Seto said instead.

.

There was still blood on Gozaburo's knuckles when he stepped into Amaya's bedchamber. He was wiping his hand with a handkerchief. "It seems," he said, "that there is still work to be done around this house. I would have liked to believe that Giichi wasn't so . . . stupid." He shook his head, clearly disappointed, and more than a little disgusted.

"It always seemed to me," said Amaya, closing her journal and standing up from her desk, "that he was holding something back with Noa. Now we know what it was." She eyed her husband's bloodied hand with a fierce kind of approval. "I've learned that Seto was studying at Phoenix Gate before his life was torn from him."

Gozaburo's eyes raised. "The boy is a phoenix, is he? How . . . poetic."

"I'm getting him back in," Amaya said, "and I think it would be good for Noa to join him." She locked eyes with her husband. "He's restless. I think it would do him good to spend more time in the city proper. It will give the boys a chance to bond. Two Kaibas, in the wider world, working together . . . or, perhaps, in competition. I shouldn't guess."

Gozaburo hummed. "And the young one?"

"I'll see to his early education myself," Amaya said. "When the time comes to put him into a more structured program, we'll revisit that question." She frowned. "I think it would be best if Seto were involved in that decision."

"Is that right?"

"You've seen it, the same as I have. Mokuba doesn't see us as parents or guardians, and it will be some time before there's ever a chance of that changing. Seto is his father, and Seto will put more thought and deliberation into any decision regarding his future than we ever could."

Gozaburo rubbed his chin, then nodded. "Fine," he said. "All the better for him to grow into a leadership position." He drew in a breath. He pocketed his stained kerchief and strode across the room, to stand by the sole window. "I asked him, that first day at Saint Claire's, what industry he would choose for the Kaiba Corporation, if the choice were his."

"What did he say?" Amaya asked.

"Medicine," Gozaburo replied.

Amaya smiled, eyes bright. "Is that right? What was his reasoning?"

"Medical innovations are often found, and tested, first on the battlefield. Antibiotics, amputations, tying off blood-flow. He mentioned further that the transition would make for a good public image, a sign of atonement. For the price of the bodies we've made, saving lives is the only worthwhile currency."

Gozaburo didn't have to look back at his wife to know that she was practically vibrating with excitement. That the boy's words surely struck a chord with her. Gozaburo Kaiba was not a foolish man, and he knew well enough what the future of his corporation would look like.

There was a time to stand against the storm.

This was not that time.

"Clever boy," Amaya murmured, and Gozaburo could hear the laughter in her voice.

"Clever, indeed."