I always aim for my stories to end on a soft note. I always want my stories to wrap up with hope, safety, and warmth being the main themes. It's just something I think the realm of fiction could always use more of. There's a lot of dark shit that gains traction, because it reflects the world we live in and it's cathartic and it's validating to see our own experiences reflected back at us.

But, at the same time, I think it's important for fiction to be aspirational sometimes.

Not just escapism, although there's nothing wrong with wanting to escape.

I want the idea of being able to make the world better to resonate with people who read my stuff. Yes, the people I write about are exceptional, but they're people. Just like you. You're exceptional, too. You can make the world better, too.

Even if it's only better for you, or people close to you, that's a worthy mission.

.

Amaya found Travis in the ground-floor kitchen, staring at one of Mokuba's drawings; Seto had placed it on the refrigerator. The lady Kaiba had a suspicion that, if she walked up to Travis and tapped him on the shoulder, he would jump halfway out of his skin.

She decided, instead, to make as much noise as possible as she went about fixing a glass of iced tea.

"Ah," said Travis, much too late to sound the slightest bit natural, "good afternoon, ma'am."

"Copeland," said Amaya. She handed over a second drink; Travis took it. They drank solemnly. "You look like you're mulling something over. What has you so contemplative?"

Travis grunted. "The new face. Aleister. Apparently, Mister Kaiba offered to see him trained."

Amaya laughed quietly. "I don't suppose I find myself surprised," she said.

"I suppose I find myself wondering . . . do you think your husband is suicidal?"

In any other context, with any other family, Travis would have been caught dead before asking any such question. When working for the wealthy, it was always best to keep quiet and only say what was necessary, when it was necessary to say it. It was so much easier to keep a job that way; and working for the Kaibas was the best job Travis had ever landed.

It was also the first job where Travis felt like he could afford to be so forward.

Amaya didn't seem affronted, or even surprised, to be asked such a question.

She hummed. "I don't think I would go that far," she said, eventually. "I think it's more that my dear husband views his own self-worth through the lens of conquest. He fully believes that, if someone manages to kill him, then that means he must have deserved to die. One might compare it to the prosperity gospel, except the currency in question is his life."

". . . You're not a religious person, are you?" Travis asked.

"No," Amaya said, rolling her eyes, "not in the slightest. I've heard quite enough speeches on the subject of God and His favor to serve me multiple lifetimes. All the same, I do believe that Gozaburo sees a kind of . . . romance in the idea that he might die at the hands, or the machinations at least, of his children one day. I think little would make him happier, or more fulfilled, than that."

"In his mind," Travis guessed, "that would prove he's taught them the lessons they need to learn."

Amaya nodded. "Precisely."

"What do you think of that philosophy, if I may ask?"

"You may," Amaya said. Her brow furrowed. "I don't pretend to agree with him wholesale, without caveat, but I do think there's sound logic buried in the drama. After all, what is it that people say? It is a parent's job to teach their child to live without them. This is . . . how my husband applies that adage to his life. I shouldn't be surprised that violence would be involved here, given . . . well, who we're talking about here."

Travis nodded. "I guess you're right about that." He cleared his throat. "Do you think Aleister will take him up on the offer?"

"I have no idea," Amaya admitted. "I find myself hoping that he will."

"You aren't worried that he'll make you a widow?"

"Not in the slightest."

.

Sometimes, Noa would sit hunkered outside his father's office to listen in on work calls, just to sate his natural curiosity. It was rare that he learned much of anything from what he heard, given that Gozaburo Kaiba was the sort of man to speak too quickly, too sharply, for anyone to get a full grasp of a conversation from only listening to his side; it was like he always thought his calls were being monitored by law enforcement.

For all Noa knew, his father was being monitored.

"You've yet to explain why you're bothering me with this," Gozaburo was growling into the phone, and Noa could hear him tapping his cigar aggressively against the edge of his ashtray, which he always did when he was irritated. "I've been listening quite intently. What I'm telling you is that you've yet to make a relevant point. If you have another argument prepared, might I suggest switching to it? As it is, you have done nothing except waste my time and yours."

Noa didn't like to think of himself as rebellious; not really. He knew that his parents expected a certain amount of pushback from him, so it didn't feel like rebelling when he went against their instructions. It was what they wanted, after all, wasn't it? It felt like part of the dance, somehow, and he didn't think he was in any real danger of getting in trouble.

Even though he was grounded for the foreseeable future.

Noa watched as a new figure came padding up along the hallway; it turned out to be Aleister.

Noa held a finger to his lips, and then gestured for the older boy to join him.

Aleister looked confused—why would Noa feel comfortable enough with him to be conspiratorial with him?—but he eventually shrugged and did as instructed. It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

"I'm going to say this slowly," Gozaburo rumbled. "I do not care about the age of the individual who made the argument; I care about the argument made. Allow me, therefore, to assuage you of this confusion. I agree with the assessment which you are currently making a stand against. Argue with me about it. My son has no further place in this conversation. Honestly, he never did."

Noa was grinning; he was sure he knew what was happening, and a thrill of excitement ran up his whole body at the realization that his father agreed with his analysis. Aleister seemed stunned; his entire worldview had been shattered and rebuilt for the sixth or seventh time in the past forty hours.

"You have five seconds to make a relevant point before I hang up."

"I forced Chichiue's company to honor a contractor's insurance policy," Noa whispered. "The way this works is simple: if you argue with passion, and conviction, he'll listen to you. Chichiue doesn't hold much with charity. He's a by-the-bootstraps kind of man. But he knows it will look bad if he takes back something I promised as a representative of my family. So, if I give someone something, and I do it with purpose because I believe in it, he won't do anything about it."

". . . You manipulated your father into helping someone," Aleister said, numbly.

"More or less, yeah."

Noa's toothy grin split his face.

.

Gozaburo slammed the handset of his personal phone onto its cradle.

He left his chair and strode over to his window, clasping his hands behind his back, like he always did. He glared into the back gardens like he expected to find someone hiding there, someone on whom he could vent his frustrations; if only a member of Paradius were still out there, he could do something practical about his blood pressure right now.

"Shall I take this to mean," said Amaya, sitting on the loveseat across the room from her husband, "that you will not be forcing Jackson Wheeler to foot the bill for his daughter's care?"

"Even if I wanted to," Gozaburo said, "if I did that, it would only cause irreparable damage to my credibility. For no real gain. Besides, I can't afford to alienate new hires if I'm to change industries. How will it look if I claim to be making the shift from arms to medicine, but I also refuse to pay for my employees' medical care?"

"You used to say that your reputation was only ever other peoples' business," Amaya pointed out.

"I also used to say that I would never have children," Gozaburo countered, "and then I used to say that I would never have more than one. Here we are, regardless."

"How times change," Amaya mused, with laughter in her voice.

"You're happy that Seto's had this kind of influence on Noa, aren't you?" Gozaburo paused. "You do know he never would have become involved in this if not for his brother. I can tell just by looking at you. You know just as well as I do, how much he's changed since Seto came around. I imagine you're looking equally forward to whatever influence Aleister will have."

"Am I so obvious?" Amaya asked, coyly. "What can I say, dearest? They're good boys."