I've always harbored a theory that Gozaburo would actually be proud of what Seto and Mokuba did with his legacy, if he'd been around to see it. Because sure, it's not the sort of thing he would have built, but it was built. They didn't rest on their laurels.

Noa doesn't, either.

He's got his own idea for what the future of the Kaiba Corporation is.

.

"So, my friend's father is working for the Kaiba Corporation. Correct?"

"Yes, young master."

"He is covered by the Kaiba Corporation's standard health plan. Correct?"

"Yes, young master."

"That plan covers not just the employee, but the employee's immediate family and dependents. Correct?"

"Yes, young master."

"My friend's father has two children. Children are family and dependents. Ere go, those children are covered by his health plan. Correct?"

"Yes, young master."

Noa's face twisted with anger, and the man sitting across from him flinched away. "Given all this," the boy continued, "I'm having trouble working out what the problem is. Health insurance, definitionally, covers a person's healthcare. I don't think that's especially hard to explain. So, why don't you explain what's going on. What's the holdup?"

The man had a name, but Noa was too angry to remember what it was. He fidgeted and adjusted the collar of his shirt. "Young master . . . the care being requested in this case is very experimental, and we cannot—"

"You're telling me that you know this girl's needs better than her doctor?" Noa cut in. "That's what you're saying, isn't it? It's experimental, which means it can't be trusted. Her doctors must be cranks because that's the only possibility to consider. It certainly cannot be that experimental care exists because it's the last resort. What nonsense. Surely, you know this better than anyone. You're the real expert. That's what you're telling me right now."

"Young master, it's more complex—"

"No." Noa's voice was a whipcrack, not unlike his father's, even though he wasn't even ten years old yet. "It's not complex at all, actually. It's very simple. This man's daughter goes to her doctor. The doctor recommends treatment. We pay for that treatment. See? Elementary, isn't it? The Kaiba Corporation relies entirely on its reputation. Are you suggesting that we trade in what little goodwill we have with the public by allowing insurance companies to run roughshod over healthcare providers because they say so? Is that what's in our brand's best interest? Forgive me if I'm suspicious."

The man jerked at his tie. "Young master . . ."

"My father made a deal with Jackson Wheeler. That deal is going to be kept. Apparently, you don't think that's important. Unfortunately for you, I do. So, get it done. Unless, of course, you can't. Which I hope isn't the case, because I specifically asked to speak to someone who can make decisions. Someone capable of getting results. So, you have two choices: get results, or admit to my face that you lied to me."

Amaya didn't bother to hide her obvious pleasure at her son's performance.

She smirked, but she hid it quickly.

She cleared her throat. "You heard him," she said. "Sign off on Serenity Wheeler's procedures, or we find someone who will. Those are your choices. My son makes a salient point, and I don't think you understand the position you've been placed in. You have arguments against him, yes, but they aren't real arguments. I understand—" she cut in before the man could speak, "—that you have procedures and protocols in place. There are things you cover and things you don't. You seem to believe that you are in a different position than you are, so permit me to spell it out for you: change your protocols before we change them for you."

The man drew in a shaky breath, adjusted his coat, and stood from his seat. "Yes, Mistress. Yes, young master. I'll . . . see to this personally."

He left the room.

Amaya ruffled Noa's hair. "Well done, darling."

"I'm not interested in profit for the sake of it," Noa muttered. "If we don't do anything with the money this company brings in, then it's pointless."

Amaya smiled. "I know. You're quite right."

"Chichiue deals with people like that," Noa said. "I've seen them. They go on and on about how much they bring in, but what's it for? What are they going to do with it? Buy a boat? Another summer home? It's stupid. It's a contest, and it has nothing to do with what money is for. It's not a score card. You use money to do things."

Amaya's smile widened and widened as Noa continued his impromptu speech.

He went on for another ten minutes; Amaya offered no input of her own, simply watched him work through his troubles and rant about the state of the world and what it actually meant to be wealthy; what possible reason could there be for anyone to think themselves superior to anyone else if all they ever did was sit on their piles of gold like a dragon from a fairy tale?

Amaya didn't think she needed to add anything to this revelation.

Best to let everything run its course.

Best for Noa to land on his own philosophy, chase his own path. This was what independence meant; this was what raising a Kaiba meant. This was precisely the kind of righteous anger that would change the face of the world someday, and Amaya's only hope was that she lived long enough to see it happen.

She doubted Gozaburo would appreciate hearing his son's points very much; the man was a staunch capitalist and he had little patience for charity. But Amaya thought her husband would appreciate the fire in Noa's voice as he spoke.

"We don't want obedient little automatons," Amaya murmured. "We want Kaibas."

"Huh?" Noa cut himself off and turned to face his mother. "Did you say something, Hahaue?"

"You're starting to sound like a Kaiba," Amaya said. "Stoke that flame. Do not let it go out. Do you hear me? If there is nothing else you ever do in this life, do that."

Noa thought about this silently for a moment, then smiled.

He nodded. "Yes, Hahaue."

.

Sitting in the liminal darkness of his latest hotel room, Gozaburo Kaiba listened to his wife and wanted to be angry. He wanted to be annoyed, to lash out, at the idea that his son was growing into a feel-good social democrat hug-box. He wanted to, but he couldn't. He just didn't have it in him. At the very moment of Noa's birth, Gozaburo had imagined what the boy would look like as a man, standing at the peak of a glorious mountain of conquest.

That wasn't the image that Amaya saw for their eldest son.

"I thought it might be best to warn you ahead of time, dearest. I think his brother is starting to influence him, and I think it's going to make for quite a divergent path in the next few years."

Gozaburo sighed, then stared at the carpet beneath his feet and asked the real question, the only one that mattered: "Is he passionate about it? Is he saying these things because he believes in them? Or is he going along with what he's heard is the proper decision?"

"Dearest, if you could have been here to listen to him. I don't think I've ever been prouder."

Gozaburo leaned back in his chair. "Did he strike fear in a man's heart?"

"He is, after all, your son."

Gozaburo struck up a cigar and laughed quietly to himself as smoke rose sinuously into the dark. "Well," he said, "I don't suppose I can muster up the energy to be disappointed, then. Whether he follows in my footsteps or not, as long as he chases his path with conviction." He paused. "Besides. This is doubtless why Wheeler was asking about health coverage in the first place. Denying his daughter's treatment would only sabotage us."

"'My father made a deal with Jackson Wheeler. That deal is going to be kept. Apparently, you don't think that's important. Unfortunately for you, I do.'"

Gozaburo leaned forward again. "Those were his words?"

"They were, dearest."

He nodded. "Good. That's good. That's very good."

"I thought you would appreciate it."

". . . I have to go," Gozaburo said, more quietly than before. "I believe I've been found."