I'm not sure what Amaya's day-to-day life is filled with, but I think she runs some kind of charity. A nonprofit of some kind. I guess I just imagine her being part of Gozaburo's public image, and that seems like it would be a useful way to soften him up for the general public.

And I think it's something that he'll end up leaning on, as he switches gears.

I don't know if my goal when I started this story was to make Gozaburo out to be a decent man. Ultimately, I don't think he is. I just think … whether someone is "a good person" or not becomes a less interesting question to me, as I get older.

.

"Hahaue? I was hoping I could talk to you about something."

Amaya turned away from her desk—and the ungodly stack of application essays she'd been sifting through all weekend—and offered her eldest a smile. "What is it, darling?"

Noa was leaning on his cane. "Seto showed me a game he likes, called Magic & Wizards. It's a card game, but see, he doesn't have enough cards to build a deck. He needs more if he ever wants to play. So, what I was thinking was . . . he really helped me out at school, and he's still keeping an eye out for me every day, and I was hoping I could use my account to get him some cards. To . . . y'know, thank him."

Amaya raised an eyebrow. "Trading cards?"

Noa nodded. "Uh-huh. It's something he's been keeping track of since it came out, I guess, but he hasn't been able to get more cards because he hasn't had money for them. Ever since . . . the orphanage. You know."

"I see." Amaya hummed. "Your father would probably say something about distracting you boys from your studies, but I certainly can't pretend you aren't doing well. Whatever the faculty has to say about your conduct, your teacher seems quite impressed with you despite himself." She laughed quietly to herself. "I don't see a problem with this."

Noa grinned, then bowed. "Thank you, Hahaue!"

"Go on. Let me finish something, and we'll see about tracking down some cards for your brother."

"Okay!"

Amaya frowned. "You want this to be a surprise, I take it?"

"Yes, Hahaue," Noa said. "I told him I'd talk to you, but I never said anything about what. I'm hoping we can put together, like . . . a gift basket. Something like that. I want to welcome him properly into the family."

Amaya's eyes glittered. "Aha," she said. "I see what you're doing. This family is nothing without its members standing together. All the money, all the influence, all the connections, all the work. It means nothing if we do not stand with each other, and keep each other close to our hearts."

Noa nodded. "I'm a big brother now. Seto's been looking after me, but it's about time I look after him."

Amaya beamed. "Just so, darling. Just so."

"We should make something for Mokuba, too."

"Absolutely. We should."

.

Sometimes, Gozaburo Kaiba thought about Jack the Ripper.

He thought about all the theories on who Jack might have been; about how he might have been a surgeon, or a butcher, or a barber; about how he might have been a nobleman, stalking Whitechapel purely for the sport of it. He thought about how there was an entire field of study—amateur though it was—dedicated to working out who the man was; he still haunted the dreams of people over a century after he'd left his mark on London. Gozaburo was no Ripperologist himself; he didn't have enough passion or interest in the man for that.

But he had to admit that there was a kind of romance about the man that stayed with him.

These thoughts always seemed to sneak up and pounce whenever he went on a late-night walk. Gozaburo didn't like staying still for too long. He preferred moving, and he so often left the relative safety of the Kaiba Estate to go . . . somewhere. Anywhere. He was not, and had never been, an armchair general. He was never able to send out underlings to do work that he, personally, refused to do. As a boy, Gozaburo had never respected men who gave orders without acting. Any leader worth following was out on the field, weapon in hand, ready to bleed for their ambitions.

It was, perhaps, the chief reason Amaya Hasegawa caught his attention in the first place. She'd been the first woman, the first person, Gozaburo had ever met who looked like she not only could, but would, kill him with her bare hands if she decided it was necessary.

There was no way he wouldn't have married someone like that.

All this was to say, the Kaiba patriarch knew Domino City better than anyone would have guessed, simply because he spent so much of his downtime exploring it. He did not shy away from "bad" neighborhoods; if anything, he preferred them. Gozaburo Kaiba was a warrior, and he could only keep his skills sharp if he allowed himself to step into danger.

One could not be a predator if he did not fear becoming prey.

Gozaburo knew men who claimed fear was beneath them, who said they feared nothing. Such men were idiots. Such men bored him. They were hopefully ignorant at best, willfully dishonest at worst. Gozaburo Kaiba knew well the grips of fear; he knew what it was to run from a killer, and that was precisely how he knew the right way to be a killer.

He'd only been within shouting distance of Highrise Oasis Apartments once, but it was enough for him. Gozaburo found himself there within an hour, with enough time to study it at his leisure. No one was congregating outside at this hour; he wouldn't be interrupted.

When the figures in black surrounded him, Gozaburo sighed.

"So," he said, "this is how it unfolds."

"You think we didn't see you, old man?" one of the figures demanded, hiding their voice with a modulator. "You think we don't know about you?"

"If you didn't know about me," Gozaburo said idly, "I would be insulted."

"You don't belong here," the modulator continued, stepping closer. Gozaburo was well over a head taller than his antagonist; it was difficult to feel threatened. Gozaburo didn't often feel threatened anyway, especially when he was angry.

Gozaburo took a cigar from his case and cut it. "I've been smoking these too often," he said softly. "Amaya will have words for me about it, I'm sure." He lit his smoke with a silver lighter that gleamed in the moonlight. "I cannot help but let you know how . . . vexing I find you all. Talking about who does and who does not belong here. Be specific, won't you? Do you mean this building? This block? This city? This country?"

"I mean this world."

"A death threat," Gozaburo muttered, rolling his eyes. "Here I was hoping you were simple racists." He shook his head. "All right. We'll pretend your point has merit. Do you have a whole speech prepared? Am I a blight on this planet? Will unzipping my intestines be a noble sacrifice? If you have any proselytizing to do, please get started."

He felt a blade brush against his neck.

"You talk too much," said one of the others, from behind him.

"You take too long to get to the damn point," Gozaburo replied.

He clamped his cigar between his teeth, clenched his fists, and thought about Jack the Ripper.