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Chapter Text

Note: This scene goes at the end of Chapter three of "Mutou Family Values"  If you haven't read that, this makes zero sense.  

Mokuba knew his brother was on edge. Seto really hadn’t relaxed since they came here. Mokuba couldn’t understand why. They were living in a nice house with all the games and toys they could ever want. The food was good. Yugi was weird, but fun, and he could make a game out of anything, even matching socks while doing laundry or watching street signs from the bus.

Sure, it was weird that they’d been adopted by a grandfather and not by a mom and dad, but they had both been adopted, together. That was what they had really wanted from the beginning. They would stay together, that was all that really mattered.

They even got to share a room. Mokuba had been a little worried about that at first. The people at the orphanage hadn’t liked it when Mokuba crawled into bed with his brother at night. They had threatened to separate them, but there hadn’t been any other sleeping rooms available. Mokuba remembered that when he was little he and Seto had each had their own room. One night he’d had a bad dream and Seto’s door was closed and he couldn’t reach the knob. He’d sat and cried on the floor until he fell asleep again. When Seto found out what had happened, he’d put tape on the latch so the door wouldn’t close properly and Mokuba could never be locked out again.

Mokuba had worried sometimes that when they were finally adopted, their new parents wouldn’t want them to sleep in the same room. What if he had a bad dream then? Seto was the only one who knew how to make the dream monsters go away.

But Jiichan didn’t mind at all. In fact, they had to share a bed because there was only one. Then, Jiichan bought them bunk beds, just because Mokuba wanted it.

But Seto still wasn’t quite happy. He was nervous, worried. Even getting a new school and new clothes didn’t make him relax. And Seto still refused to say Jiichan, calling him “the old man” all the time.

It wasn’t all bad. Seto was polite to Yugi, at least. Not fake polite, like he was to the mean boys at the orphanage. Real polite, like he didn’t want Yugi to be upset. But he acted like he didn’t trust Jiichan.

That didn’t make sense to Mokuba. It made him worry. Seto was really smart. If Jiichan couldn’t be trusted, why did they go home with him? And if Seto was worried, did that mean that they weren’t safe?

The night their new bed came, Seto got up late and left the room, waking Mokuba in the process. He tried to go back to sleep, thinking his brother just went to the bathroom or to get a drink. But the longer Seto was gone, the more worried he got. He didn’t like to be alone in the dark. He wanted to find Seto, but was too scared.

After a very long time, the door opened and the hall light flooded the room with welcome brightness and warmth. Even more welcome was the silhouette of his brother in the light with Jiichan right behind him. Mokuba expected Jiichan to swat his brother on the behind and sternly order him to bed, the way they had at the orphanage when someone was caught wandering at night. Instead, he clasped Seto’s shoulder and spoke gently, too softly to hear. Seto nodded and crawled into bed. Jiichan even left the door open a little, to let the light in.

Mokuba was so glad not to be alone in the dark that he scampered right down into his brother’s bed and arms. Something was weird, though. Seto’s was holding way too tight and he was breathing funny. Mokuba wasn’t stupid and he was far from innocent. There had been a boy at the orphanage who got adopted, but came back a few months later. That boy was Seto’s age, but when he came back he would only hang out with the little kids like Mokuba. He never spoke after he came back and wouldn’t even look at the adults. Mokuba never knew what happened to him, just that it was something bad. The boy was eventually moved to a different orphanage, some called it a hospital. That boy gave Mokuba a new piles of worries. Apparently, getting adopted wasn’t always a good thing.

When he realized Seto had been crying, all Mokuba could think of was that boy who’d come back broken. He was furious for a few seconds, then Seto laughed. It was quiet, but a real, honest, happy sound. Mokuba had heard of happy tears, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen them before. Happy tears were okay. In fact, if Jiichan could make his brother that happy, then everything was perfect here, just like it seemed.

The late hour caught up to him just as Seto explained that they were finally home. Mokuba slept easy, knowing his brother had fulfilled his long ago promise and everything would be okay.

Chapter Text

Seto had been laying face-down on the sofa for over an hour when Yugi arrived home from school. He knew that his current position, still wearing his gray suit and sprawled with his feet hanging over the armrest, would attract the younger boy’s attention. Part of him did not care. The rest of him welcomed the chance to share his current troubles. Forget poise, Seto had spent the whole week being an adult. Just now, he wanted to be fifteen and complain about the unfairness of life.

“Seto?” There was concern in Yugi’s voice. “Are you all right? Are you sick?”

He turned his face away from the cushion just enough to answer. “Just sick of stuffed-shirt old men telling me what I can and can’t do with my company!”

“Board of Directors got you down again, huh?”

Seto sighed heavily and heaved himself up, half-rolling into a sitting position as if the motion was too much for his weary body. Yugi dropped his book bag and plopped down next to his brother.

“When you have twenty-five years worth of experience reading market trends…” Seto quoted in a mocking tone. In a slightly different voice, he followed up with, “In the fifteen years I’ve worked for this company…” A third voice, “I’ve spent twenty years as lead of the labor department…” he sighed and slumped farther into the overstuffed sofa. “They keep dangling my age out there, trying to prove it means I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’re smarter than any five of them put together, Nichan,” Yugi said with a snort.

“They think changing the company’s focus so drastically is too big of a gamble so they’re dragging their feet, trying to make me change my mind.” They weren’t the only ones. Several investors had pulled out when Seto had announced the change. He’d bought up as many of those shares at he could, turning his original fifty-one percent ownership to sixty-two percent. It wasn’t enough. Company bylaws required seventy-five percent approval for many things, such as buying or selling land and the creation or elimination of departments.

Seto was working around those rules as much as he could. It was fairly simple to change out the projects in Research and Development. Similarly, the manufacturing facilities were now disassembly lines, methodically breaking up and melting down every Kaiba Corp weapon still in inventory. Distribution was working out how to dispose of any remains that couldn’t be recycled.

Retrofitting the arms factories to handle computer chips would be a major expenditure, however, and would require board approval. Currently, only one of his six plants could accommodate delicate circuitry, the one that had previously built that thrice-damned guidance system. He also needed a major software laboratory which would need to be built from the ground up.

“How can I ever get them to obey me as their boss if I can’t even get them to see me as a peer?” Seto muttered, glaring at the glossy magazine on the coffee table. Yugi picked it up and looked over the cover picture.

Seto’s smart western suit blended in with the five board members surrounding him. He wore the same no-nonsense hairstyle as the others. Only someone who knew him could discern the smug smirk just pulling at the corners of his carefully neutral expression. He even stood at nearly the same height as the others in the photo, thanks to a recent growth spurt.

Despite the similarities, no one had to guess which figure in the photo was Mutou Seto. The other men were all at least twice his age. Despite their similar heights, Seto in the photo looked like a kid playing dress up. His narrow frame was lanky and in the slender suit he was all knees and elbows. The neatly parted, slicked down hair only emphasized his youthful face.

“You need to lose the suit,” Yugi declared into the thoughtful silence that had fallen between them.

Seto snorted, though with a small amount of good humor. “Yeah, showing up on Monday in jeans and a tee shirt will definitely make them listen.”

But Yugi shook his head earnestly. “That’s not what I mean,” he corrected. “Look, you’re experience is not in business. You’re an experienced gamer. You’re a chess master and a Duel Monsters champion. You hold the unbeatable high score on basically every video game in the country. You even took the top spot at least year’s Go tournament. If they’re holding experience over your head, then show them your experience!”

“I still don’t see how dressing more casually will change anything,” Seto repeated.

“Not casually,” Yugi continued, digging through the magazine rack and spreading a handful of brightly colored gaming magazines over the table. A motley assortment of wild styles stared back at him. The featured photos displayed hair with more colors than a clown wig. There were spikes and studs and buckles and leather, enough piercings to shut down airport metal detectors for an hour and enough tattoos to impress an entire gang of bikers. And yet, every man and woman demonstrated a commanding presence that his own photos lacked. “Dress like a gamer.”

Thoughtfully, Seto shifted his gaze from the photos to his brother and indicated the leather choker and wrist cuffs his brother had recently taken to wearing. “Is that what these are all about?”

Yugi shrugged casually, though a blush colored his cheeks. “Kinda,” he admitted. “Even if Jiichan would let me dye my hair, I’ll still never fit in with the other kids at school.” he flashed a cheeky grin at his brother. “Besides, you are the one who told me that I shouldn’t fit in, that I should try to be better. So I figure if I can’t fit in, why not stand out?”

Seto blinked stupidly in stunned silence for a few moments. As he processed this, Mokuba arrived. The boy’s gray uniform shirt was tied around his waist, revealing the bright green and yellow striped tee shirt he’d worn underneath. He was also wearing bright yellow high tops which he kicked off in the doorway and had recently taken to avoiding haircuts and the half-tamed mane of black hair bounced wildly as he bounded across the room.

And Yugi’s advice suddenly clicked in Seto’s mind. He was trying to be one of them, trying to beat them at their game. But Seto didn’t want to play their game. He wanted to play his game. It was time to change the rules. Mutou Seto was CEO of a gaming company. The time had come to act like it.

“Mokuba, Yugi, get changed into something comfortable,” he instructed. “We’re going to the mall.”

Standing in front of the mirror Monday morning, Seto stared down his reflection. Silently, he told the man in the mirror, ‘You are Mutou Seto, CEO of Kaiba Corporation, soon to be the world’s largest gaming company.’ He repeated this again and again until his reflection showed no nervousness, only an arrogant smirk remaining. When he made it downstairs, his driver was so stunned that he forgot to open the car door. Isono had to nudge the man into action.

The security director merely commented, “You look well this morning, Sir.”

He’d spent the time he usually devoted to coffee in front of the mirror this morning. Seto found he didn’t need the caffeine. Most of the office arrived at eight. He’d set today’s meeting for eight-thirty. Today was a good day to make an entrance.

All eyes were on him the moment Seto stepped out of the town car. The security guard at the entrance stared openly. The receptionist dropped her phone. Everyone still in the atrium gawked.

Gone was the gray suit and the polite, mincing steps in soft soled shoes that barely made a sound. Seto gave his long legs free reign, chrome buckled motorcycle boots clacking loudly across the marble floor. His plum colored, knee length frock coat had required some tailoring to remove the sleeves and tuck the waist so that it flared as he walked, flashing the brilliant red lining. His charcoal trousers and turtleneck disappeared when the morning sun glinted off chrome detailing that flashed in the form of faceted studs on his epaulets and belt. The leather bracers on his wrists and leather bands on his biceps fastened with matching chrome buckles.

Seto glared at each gawker from under his stylishly tousled bangs until they looked away. He never broke stride. As if the Fates approved of his dramatics, the elevator doors opened for him as he approached. He never slowed, pivoting on his heel as he reached the middle of the elevator and letting his residual momentum wrap the coat dramatically around his legs in a swirl of color. Isono followed him into the car and Seto made a mental note to give the man a bonus as the security director pushed the button, allowing Seto to hold his pose until after the doors had closed.

When they were away from prying eyes and ears, Isono let out a chuckle and Seto turned to look at him.

“Something to say?” Seto asked acerbically.

Without preamble, he replied, “The day you declared Kaiba Corp would make games instead of weapons I cheered because I knew I finally had a job I could be proud of. After today, I feel like I have a job I can truly enjoy.”

“I haven’t been here five minutes yet,” Seto dryly pointed out.

“Let’s just say that I see the potential.”

They reached their floor then, cutting off further conversation. Isono headed left to the security office while Seto stalked straight down executive row, startling most of the secretaries, including his own. His sharp voice snapped the man out of his shock.

“Did you re-print the proposals from Friday’s meeting?”

“Yes, Mutou-sama,” the man managed to respond.

“Bring them to the conference room in ten,” he ordered, whirling away toward the aforementioned room.

The meeting was supposed to have started five minutes ago. Seto could hear the old men chatting and laughing through the door. Fixing his face into a scowl, Seto threw the door wide and stomped inside. The old men gawked and glared in turns as Seto stormed to his position at the head of the table.

“That’s hardly appropriate business attire, Mutou-san,” one had the nerve to chide him.

Shoving his chair aside, Seto declined to sit down, his scowl shifting to a smirk. “I beg to differ,” he answered. “This, gentlemen, is a gaming company. I’m changing the dress code to reflect Kaiba Corps new direction and product line.”

“See here, young man…” Seto did not let the sentence be completed. He slammed both palms on the table with a bang, rattling coffee cups and startling the men to silence. He let the silence linger for a beat to be sure he had their full attention, then spoke softly.

“Young man,” he mused. “You all say that as if it’s a bad thing to be. The fact is, I am a young man. As a young man, I’ve won two international chess tournaments, last year’s national Go finals, and I hold the World Duel Monsters Championship title. I also hold the record high score on over a hundred and fifty other globally popular games. I am the undefeated Games Master.” He paused after this declaration to let the words sink in, letting them understand that he knew games, knew them better than these men could ever hope to understand the weapons they so dearly wanted to continue making.

“So now, we’ll play a new game,” he proposed in a falsely soft tone. “We will see who wins. The rules, gentlemen, are simple; last man standing. You see, as of this morning, there are no more weapons in the Kaiba Corp stockpile. We have nothing left to sell. The manufacturing plants are being disassembled even as we speak. At the moment, the current employees are busy working on that. In a few short weeks, they will have employment contracts that we must pay, but no work to do. Now, you have two options…”

His secretary appeared in the doorway and Seto waved the man in. He began distributing the newly printed and bound proposal books.

“Two choices, gentlemen. You can approve these proposals and keep our employees producing a marketable product, or you can refuse, again, and wait for Kaiba Corp to go bankrupt. Your choice.”

He was met with a sea of horrified faces. He watched them, smirk firmly in place, waiting for their answer.

“Mutou-san,” a firm, yet soft voice interjected. “I hear what you’re saying, but if this is the same document from Friday there are at least fourteen serious timetable issues and budgetary concerns that must be addressed before we can proceed with this plan.”

“Then give me a counter-proposal,” he paused to stare down his five most ardent detractors. “A realistic counter proposal,” he clarified when one of those five opened his mouth to speak. “Make no mistake, I will bury this company before I allow us to ever again manufacture or broker weapons of any kind.”

A briefcase clicked open and the man who had just spoken slid a document down the table. It was one of Friday’s binders, carefully annotated in red with several handwritten notes tucked inside. “What’s this?”

“A counter proposal,” the thirty-something man, the youngest at the table aside from Seto himself, said with ease. “My boys are six and eight years old. I want them to be able to look at their classmates in the eye and proudly say, ‘yeah, my dad makes that game.’ I want to be a force for good in this world, for a change.”

Seto struggled not to freeze in shock. He had support! There were heads nodding in agreement around the table. A few mutinous glares were tossed as well, but he didn’t need everyone. With his controlling interest, he only needed about half of them.

“If we adjourn for the morning, can you have a proper presentation ready by one?”

The man nodded.

“Very well. Gentlemen, let’s meet back here at one o’clock.”

Without another word, Seto strode to his office. Only when he was behind closed doors did he allow himself a small victory dance. He’d earned it. He postponed all work for an hour so that he could start planning a perfect thank you gift for his brothers.

Chapter Text

Sugoroku liked to think that the reason he missed it was the artwork that surrounded him all day. While Kame Game didn’t carry any video games, it did carry a full range of gaming magazines. The walls were virtually papered with posters for TCGs and RPGs, as well. It was possible that the artwork skewed his perception a bit. Besides, as much as he liked to think of himself as the “cool” grandfather, he’d never been good at keeping up with fashion trends. He’d be more likely to put together a good cosplay than a proper, fashionable, teenager’s outfit.

Yugi’s friends were sitting together on the sofa. Naturally, he noticed Anzu first. She was wearing teeny-tiny pink shorts and a midriff baring top that left little to the imagination. Sugoroku had noticed that trend and it was definitely the height of fashion to his mind.

Honda wore jeans and a white button-down with a brown jacket over, neatly pressed and very practical.

Jounouchi was a little more thread-bare and worn. His jeans were ragged and the green army-surplus jacket likely covered stains on his white tee shirt. Still, he looked like every other kid that came into the store.

Then Mokuba bounded in from the kitchen where he and Yugi had been making snacks. As the boy fairly skipped across the room and leaped to sprawl across the others, Sugoroku pondered how unfair it was that just a little of that energy couldn’t rub off on him. Then his brain caught up with his eyes and an old children’s rhyme trickled through his mind. One of these things is not like the others…

Mokuba’s cargo pants were a bright sky blue. That wasn’t so bad, except his shirt was a putrid orange and pea green in horizontal stripes. Sugoroku blinked at the combination. The boy’s wide belt was bright yellow. He vaguely recalled that the boy had a pair of high-top sneakers that color. The four on the couch were giggling and Sugoroku was considering taking his youngest in for a vision test when Yugi joined them with a tray of snacks and drinks.

Sugoroku could only blink again as he considered how long it had been since he’d truly looked at his grandson. He’d always considered listening to be the more important skill. Apparently, he’d focused too much on that and failed to look because his sweet, shy, innocent Yugi was wearing painted on black leather pants. Sugoroku had vaguely noted the black leather choker, but he’d failed to notice the matching wrist cuffs. Additionally, Yugi’s white button down was open to reveal a black nylon tank top and he was wearing makeup; heavy black eyeliner, eye-shadow in gold tones, even lipstick. The large golden puzzle hanging from his neck seemed to set off the rest of the outfit instead of drawing attention from it.

Before he could fully process his surprise, Seto arrived home, stomping loudly through the entryway and not bothering to remove his shoes at the door. Sugoroku blinked twice. When had Seto stopped wearing suits to work?

The boy sprawled into an armchair, black and chrome motorcycle boots stretched out before him, highly visible with his black pants tucked inside them. The sleeves of his black turtleneck were held tight by a multitude of black leather straps and he wore black leather bracers on each wrist. All of this was set off by a brilliant white sleeveless coat that had chrome spikes on the shoulders and hung nearly to his ankles, flaring out from the waist to show the ice blue lining.

“Rough day?” Yugi asked, while his grandfather tried to reconcile his mental image of his family with the view before him. Mokuba rolled from where he was still sprawled over the others laps and knelt by Seto’s chair to prove he was very familiar with the chunky boots by adeptly unfastening the buckles.

“However did you guess?” came the facetious reply.

“You are wearing your ‘get shit done’ coat,” Mokuba innocently replied from the floor.

“Language!” several voices scolded the boy in unison. He grinned impishly, tugging on the coat’s hem before pulling off the boot he’d been working on and starting on the other.

“Well, I spent most of today wishing Kaiba Corp still made weapons,” he grumbled as Mokuba took the boots away.

Yugi looked a little alarmed at that. So did Anzu.

“That don’t sound like you, Rich Boy,” Jounouchi asserted. “You hate guns.”

“Today was just the kind of day that makes me want to blow something up,” Seto elaborated in an exhausted tone. This earned him some relieved glances and a guffaw from the blond.

“Now that I can get behind!” Jounouchi declared. “Time and place, I’m there!”

Yugi handed his older brother a game controller. “I’m afraid that Kaiba Corp makes games now,” he said with a grin. “So today you’ll have to settle for digital explosions.”

Seto smiled up from his sprawled position. “My favorite kind,” he agreed easily, all the stress draining from his frame. “Set it up.”

As the group fell into bright laughter and easy camaraderie, Sugoroku decided that it didn’t matter what his grandsons wore. They were happy. They were good friends and they had good friends. That was all that mattered.

But he was still taking Mokuba for an eye exam, he noted with one final glance at the child’s eye-searing wardrobe choice.

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, Sugoroku had made a hot breakfast for himself and Yugi every morning. Then he’d adopted two more boys and soon found himself needing to get three people to three different parts of town every morning and still get back to open the shop on time. The last was at least as important as the first since the household expenses had more than doubled. Not only food, but clothes, books, supplies, uniforms… And Seto’s tuition was expensive. Kame Game had started as a hobby, now it was much needed income.

These days, things were a little easier. Seto actually had a job and it came with transportation. Mokuba and Yugi could take themselves to school and back. Money wasn’t nearly as tight and and there was much more time in the mornings. But established routines were hard to break and the family mostly still ate instant breakfast.

The benefit of this was that an extra person showing up in the morning was no difficulty. Sugoroku barely blinked when a blond head of hair appeared at the table one morning, scarfing down cereal with his boys. Nor did it register when an extra bowl of oatmeal made its way to Jounouchi a few days later. Soon, the boy was joining them nearly every morning for breakfast. When it did register, he was too grateful that Yugi finally had friends to mind. Besides, it never hurt to have someone walking with Yugi and Mokuba. Both boys had dealt with their share of bullying in the past and there was safety in numbers.

He did notice when he made his way into the kitchen one morning and found Yugi already up and packing lunches for himself and Mokuba.

“I just thought it was time I started packing my own lunch,” the boy explained easily. “It’s not like I’m a little kid anymore, Jiichan.”

Except the box he was packing was not his usual lunchbox. This one was much bigger and Yugi was packing it very full. Concerned, Sugoroku sidled over and took a peek, using the need to fetch a tea cup as an excuse. While Yugi’s health was no longer as fragile as it had been when he was younger, it was still vital that he eat properly and his grandfather worried the boy was packing a lot of sweets.

He needn’t have been concerned. Yugi hadn’t packed any junk food at all. The box held all the usual lunch items, just twice as many as usual. So Sugoroku said nothing.

Yugi’s habit of packing a strangely large lunch continued as did Jounouchi’s habit of joining them for breakfast. When he’d adopted Seto and Mokuba, Sugoroku had purchased a car out of necessity. Now, it mostly gathered dust except for the weekly grocery run. He did the shopping on Monday mornings and every week he was increasingly grateful for the car. As his boys grew, so did their appetites. Every week it seemed that he brought home more than the last week and still the cupboards were mostly bare by Sunday night.

After a couple of weeks of extra large lunches, Sugoroku felt obligated to ask his grandson about it. The boy hadn’t been eating more at breakfast and dinner, nor had he eaten exceptional meals on the weekends. Not to mention the boy had started packing a bowl of broth next to his usual bowl of miso. Yugi hated vegetable broth.

“We trade things at lunch, Jiichan,” Yugi explained with a disingenuous smile.

“I could just buy whatever you’re trading for so you can take it yourself,” Sugoroku pointed out reasonably.

Yugi looked alarmed at this suggestion. “It’s not like that!” he explained hurriedly. “At lunch we all just kind of put our extras in the middle and we all share.”

“You’re not filling up on junk food that someone else is bringing, are you?” Sugoroku asked suspiciously. “Because you know how important it is for you to eat a good lunch…”

But Yugi cut off the lecture, not wanting to discuss his health. “I’m not, Jiichan! I promise.”

The conversation was cut short by the front door slamming shut and a voice calling, “Morning Yug! You up yet?”

“I’m late!” Yugi softly cried, slamming the overfull lunchbox closed and rushing to throw the lunch ingredients back in the fridge. “In the kitchen,” he called to the blond shedding his shoes in the entryway. Yugi turned pleading eyes on his grandfather as he threw bread in the toaster and pulled two bowls from the cupboard.

And as the blond joined Yugi at the table, Sugoroku understood. A lot of things made more sense in this new light. Jounouchi’s uniform jacket was always unbuttoned because it was a size too small, visibly tight across the shoulders. His trousers were ragged at the bottom because he’d taken the hem out for extra length. He appeared at the Mutou house every morning for breakfast because he didn’t get a meal at home, or at least not enough of one.

The boy clearly didn’t want anyone to know. Just as clearly, Yugi and his friends had noticed and were helping in the only ways Jounouchi would let them. Taking a second lunch for the proud boy, who likely didn’t have one of his own would highlight the situation, but sharing extra out of their own lunch was alright.

Sugoroku watched the boys eat and silently decided to cook a real breakfast tomorrow. As they stood to leave, he pressed the lunchbox into Yugi’s hands. “Don’t forget this,” he prompted. “You know you need to eat a good lunch.”

Yugi shot him a look of gratitude. Sugoroku winked in return.