Yu-Gi-Oh
Fan Fiction

Chapters

Title: The Unclean Prince
Author: Serena J
Rating: R for some sexual content
Genre(s): Romance, Angst
Pairing(s): William/Mokuba
Spoilers: none
Beta: Mishiko
Disclaimer: Just the words, not the folks

- - - - - - - - - -

I was in my studio, painting. I always come back to painting. I did sculpture - mostly clay - for a while, and metalwork. I get an idea and spend a year or so experimenting with a new form or medium. The Tokyo Museum keeps a space open for me in the Kaiba Gallery and I rotate pieces about every six months.

But I always wind up back here - at home in Domino, in the studio at Kaiba Manor, painting.

I think it's easier to express myself through color and line. Other media can be fun, but when I finish I feel like I've made a craftwork - something pretty or useful - not an artwork - something that has meaning and feeling. My older sister, Auset, has no idea what I mean when I say that. My younger brother, Nobuyuki, nods. He's a musician; he gets exactly what I mean.

I was actually listening to one of Nobu's older CD's as I worked. I was doing a portrait for my uncle's upcoming wedding.

My favorite uncle was marrying a woman he'd met while at a gun show in America. She had a gun on display that he wanted to buy; she wouldn't sell. It was a KG with a single-digit modification number, and worth thousands as a collectible, but for Uncle Moke, it was priceless. He offered her double its book value and she declined. He offered her a flat million, US for it and she laughed. For a year, every time Uncle Moke saw her at a trade show, he tried to purchase the gun. She refused - even after she learned that he wasn't lying about being Kaiba Mokuba, CEO of KaibaArms and son of the late Kaiba Gozaburo.

Uncle Moke said he realized that he wasn't interested in the gun anymore when he noticed that his schedule had 14 US trade show stops over the next 60-day period and she hadn't brought the weapon in question to a show in at least three months. The next time he saw her, he asked her to dinner. She said yes. That was two years ago and my uncle, whose bedroom had previously needed a revolving door, hadn't dated anyone else since.

Then, a few months ago, she told him that she was tired of waiting for him and asked him to marry her. Uncle Moke said that was the moment he realized she was perfect for him. He, of course, said 'yes.'

The whole immediate family had gone to the American wedding last fall. She was from West Virginia and the small town where they held the service left me speechless with its autumnal beauty. I stayed there an additional month after the wedding to do a photographic essay of the town, the 'hills', and the various limestone caverns beneath. I gave the resulting book to the bride as a belated wedding gift.

Now, spring had arrived and they were having a traditional Japanese ceremony at our shrine the weekend the cherry blossoms peaked. The entire household was swept up with 'wedding fever'. Father had decided that no expense would be spared and no tradition overlooked. Then he ordered Ryou-Sensei to handle the details.

I managed to avoid most of the plans by retreating to my studio - ostensibly to work on my gift for the couple. I promised Ryou-Sensei that I'd have six new paintings to decorate the manor finished the week before the event. Five were finished and hung.

I had painted the bride in her hunting gear, aiming. It sounded somewhat gruesome, but her expression at the time the photo was taken was one of introspection and peace. She looked at one with her world. Two of the other paintings were scenic views of the town and the church for the American service. The remaining two were scenic views of Domino and the Kaiba Shrine.

The sixth was still in front of me. The wedding was tomorrow. I was still trying to finish the portrait of Uncle Moke. It wasn't the first portrait I'd done of him - just the first one I'd painted after....

I sighed deeply.

The only thing stupider than falling in love with my uncle was sleeping with him. This wedding was crushing me.

* * *

I graduated from the Duel Academy high school program when I was fourteen - two years earlier than average for DA students. Auset, of course, was twelve when she graduated, but that surprised no one. To my credit, I was a year into my Fine Arts degree at the time and I'd already had several gallery shows around the world. But if you want to feel good about your educational progress, don't compare your scores to Auset's. Just don't.

Thankfully for my ego, she could just barely manage to draw a legible stick figure. Thus, every time she thought of a new card to submit to I2 or she needed a rendering of one of her science-y things, she came to me for help.

"Will!" My sister shouted as she banged on my studio door. I keep it locked. "Open up!"

My studio was a two-story pagoda on the eastern most corner of our property. It was my first attempt at architectural design and I was very pleased with it. Dad let me build it a twenty-minute walk from the main house in hopes that he'd never hear my mp3 player again. Nobu's music studio was just as far to the western edge of the property for a similar reason.

Inside, my studio had enough space and light for almost any project I wanted to try. I had a pottery corner complete with a wood-burning kiln on one side. Opposite that, I had a wood and leather workstation. Under the eastern window, I had my drafting table and drawing supplies. Most of the rest of the space changed with my mood and current projects. I was finishing my first attempt at welding and the bossa nova/French jazz I was playing at full volume fit the mood of the piece I was creating.

I heard 'Set during a break between songs, paused the music and opened the door. "What?"

"Can't I just come see my big, handsome brother?" She asked sweetly.

I snickered. It was true that I was taller and broader than 'Set, but 'handsome' was something of a stretch in my opinion. "No."

She rolled her eyes. "You were the one that said I should try being nicer."

"Yeah, 'being', not 'acting'."

She pinched me. "Like you can talk." She pushed past me as I rubbed my stinging arm, and peered around my private space. "So whatcha working on?" She saw the metal sculpture. "Oh cool!"

In truth, the need to 'be nicer' was the only thing my siblings and I had in common. Auset - the eldest at 20 - had shoulder-length chestnut hair and blue eyes like our adopted father, Kaiba Seto. When she was younger, she dyed her hair a different color every other month, but at some point she, started wearing it in the same cut Father wore. Also like our father, my sister already had two PhD's in scientific disciplines. Unlike Father, she was extremely social and was usually right behind Papa or Dad on any wild idea they had.

Nobuyuki, my 13-year-old brother, was short and angelically cute with violet eyes and the trademark Mutou tri-colored hair - especially odd because he was adopted and it wasn't dyed. Our adopted Dad - Mutou Yami - insisted that Nobu's hair and height were proof of the outlandish story of my brother's 'birth'. To me, it was one more verification that strange things happen around people named 'Mutou'. Nobu had two loves in life - music and the last girl he spent more than ten minutes with. He fell in love daily and fell out of love almost as fast.

I was the dark one. Black hair - never longer than my chin - and black eyes. I was taller than anyone but Father, and heavier. A wolf not a mutt, Jounouchi Katsuya, our third adopted parent - 'Papa' to my siblings and I - sometimes teased me when we were alone. 'In a house full of cats,' he'd tell me, 'we dogs have to stick together.'

I closed the door with a resigned shake of my head and a slightly affectionate smile. 'Set had never taken 'no' for an answer and wouldn't know 'tact' if it smacked her in the face. "Just a bit of fun. I was thinking it would be nice in the guesthouse foyer."

"Very cool." She nodded, agreeing. "It reminds me of Nobu."

I looked at the piece. It did have a rather 'musical' flow to it. I'd been considering etching some designs into several of the panels; I picked up a nearby pen and added a musical note in one of the places I was considering.

"Oh no!" 'Set took the pen from me. "I have a question; you can get all vapor-locked when I leave."

"So ask."

"Can you do tattoos?"

I hadn't thought of that one; the human body as canvas. "I haven't trained for it." I said, thinking. "That uses needles so there's health stuff involved."

"What about designing one?"

I shrugged. "It's just art. I can do that."

"Cool. Hian and I want to get matching tramp stamps."

Papa had a tattoo - a scarab hiding a scar on his chest - but that in no way meant he'd approve of 'Set or Hian getting one. "You realize, of course, that Uncle Hiro and Papa will race to see which one can kill you first, if they see it." She shrugged and grinned. "You'll be grounded until you're fifty." I went to my drafting table and found a blank sheet of paper. "What did you have in mind?"

"What else? The KC dragon." She grinned. "I want it curled up like a sleeping kitty."

I smiled as I started drawing. Papa might have a fit, but Father wouldn't care about it if was the corporate logo. Auset stayed quiet as I worked out a few ideas on paper, only commenting if she wanted something different than I was designing. I pulled out my pens after a few minutes and added color to the design.

Then I began to worry about how big it was and whether there was too much detail to be visible. I stopped drawing and looked at my sister. I could use the permanent markers, draw it directly on her and see what works. It would solve the design issue and if our fathers hated it, it would wear off eventually. Plus, if she liked it, and they Ok'ed it, the tattoo artist wouldn't have to reproduce my design, just follow the original.

"What?" 'Set asked. I realized with a start that it was the third time she'd asked.

"Turn around and take off your shirt." I said, making my decision.

Without hesitation she did both. We'd stopped being shy around each other years ago. 'Set was lovely, but I'd already figured out that girls didn't do it for me.

She leaned against the wall and called Hian on the phone as I drew the dragon at the base of her spine where only her theoretic lover could see it.

As I was coloring and adding shading, Hian yelled for me to open the door. "Don't move." I ordered 'Set and let my cousin in.

Hianko was my cousin both by marriage and by law. When her parents got married, Father, as Head of the Kaiba Family, made them part of The Family - which would mean a whole lot more if we lived in feudal Japan. Here, now, it's meaningless except as a testament to how much Father values Aunt Anzu and Uncle Hiro. The fact that Uncle Hiro's dad married Papa's mom was a much more concrete connection. Like her mother, Hian had short, chestnut brown hair and blue-brown eyes; like her father, she was tall - at 6ft, she was my height.

"Oh, that so rocks!" Hian went straight to 'Set and critiqued my work. "I thought you wanted it in black?"

"I did!" My sister tried in vain to look at the artwork. "What did you do, Will?"

"KC's dragon is white." Duh.

"Yeah, but I wanted black."

"Yeah, but the KC dragon is white."

"It does look very cool the way he's done it." Hian observed. "You should leave it. Can you do mine just like it, but in black?"

"Blue." I began pulling out the colors I'd need for Hian.

"Why not black?" I ignored the question. "Ok. White, then. Like 'Set's."

"Blue." I repeated. Why do they come to me for art if they don't want to listen? "Turn around and take off your shirt."

"Why not white?" she asked, not moving.

I sighed. "'Set's skin is dark enough that the white stands out, but it doesn't clash." I took the white marker and drew a circle on the back of my dark, East Indian wrist. "On me, this would look silly and as pale as you are, on you, it would be virtually invisible. ' Set's is white with blue eyes. I'll do yours blue with white eyes."

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up, as she understood the obvious. "Cool!" She tossed her top aside and took her place beside my sister.

I used Auset's dragon as a guide and created a mirror image for Hianko, reversing all the left/rights and colors. I filled in the details for both of them at the same time. When I was done, I had to admit that they both did look pretty cool.

I put the pen down. "Can I finish what I was doing now?"

They ignored me in favor of squealing with glee over their new 'accessory'. I put my pens away, filed my earlier sketches, and wiped my workspace clean.

I looked up just in time to see 'Set standing upright after, apparently, having kissed Hian's stamp. Hian was more than an inch or so taller - even though she was four years younger - so she had to lean down to catch my sister's lips with her own.

It made me uncomfortable for more than just the obvious reasons.

I turned away and turned my mp3 player back on. Astrud Gilberto's "The Girl from Ipanema" filled the room. Supposedly, no one knew that 'Set and Hian were fooling around, but they often seemed to forget that around me. It was a bit annoying; I mean, yes I preferred boys, but two topless girls kissing was a bit much for any teenage boy to watch, regardless of preference.

I looked at the welding piece. If I was planning to do any real etching, I should do it properly. I covered the piece with a spray-on wax and let it harden while I found my tools.

I paused to watch my sister and cousin making out. It was an old yoga/mental focus trick that Uncle Ryuji taught me that helped me ignore my own physiological responses to sex. They didn't always work, but when they did I could view sex as art - which definitely was a useful way to view it. I wondered, as I watched them, if I could get them to model for me. Much of the art throughout ancient history had overtly sexual themes. I had wanted to try some lost wax bronze statues, and a casting of the two of them would be perfect in the theme of a 2nd century Kamasutra piece.

If I could talk them into it, I could do a great companion casting with Ryou-sensei and Uncle Ryuji as well. Despite being almost forty, neither of my uncles looked over twenty-five - Uncle Ryuji still got hit on by teenaged girls at the mall! Ryou-sensei was simply beautiful. More beautiful than most women, in fact. When they dressed to impress, together they were always the center of attention.

If I could find a heterosexual couple, I could make a trio. Maybe Nobu could find a suitable girl. I made a note on my calendar to see if I could get the University to include the project as part of my Master's program on Oriental Art forms and got back to my etching.

* * *

Of course, Aunt Anzu saw the faux tattoos first, right before dinner. Of course, all five parental units had meltdowns over them. Father was the least upset, but only because they were temporary.

It had been a huge adjustment for me to go from no family at all to having effectively five parents. It was more than overwhelming at first, but I did learn finally. The simplest way was seek the parent with the skill you needed at the moment: Aunt Anzu if you needed mothering, Dad if you needed to solve something intellectual, Uncle Hiro if you needed to solve something emotional. Talk to Papa if you had a problem inside the family, and to Father if you had a problem outside.

All in their mid-thirties, my fathers still looked young and handsome. I would never have targeted them in Agra. Men like these did not seek out poverty-stricken dalit children in the streets - the unclean and untouchable by anyone of even the lowest caste. They would never use them, use me that way. I was blessed to have such parents.

Even when they were angry over inconsequential things. Nobu pointed out that Papa had a tattoo and was sent to his room by Uncle Hiro. That, for some reason, was a taboo subject. Ultimately, the girls were grounded for a month and I got a week on probation for helping them.

The following weekend, I was again in my studio. This time I was writing the proposal for the bronze works. My advisor agreed that the projects had merit and - if I kept them to implied rather than open sexuality - he felt that I could display them and the technique for making them on campus. I had Hindi sitar music blasting.

So I nearly jumped out of my own skin when a hand touched my shoulder.

My Uncle Mokuba laughed at me as he turned off my music. My heart was still racing as I looked over and saw the open door.

"How...?"

"A little breaking and entering skill I picked up." He laughed. "You look like you're about to have heart failure! If you're gonna keep the music up like that, don't sit with your back to the door!"

"You're supposed to knock!" I snapped as my nerves began to settle.

"I did!" He grinned at me. "We've got quieter military jets." He ruffled my hair. "You ok yet?" I nodded; annoyed but ok. "Good." He continued to look at me for a moment before shaking his head. "It's amazing. You look nothing like him, but you are so Seto's son. He gets wrapped up in his work like that too. Not with the music, but that level of concentration."

"I have to concentrate. The music's just to block out everything else." I frowned. "The world annoys me for the most part."

Uncle Moke laughed again as I stood up. "Are you sure you're adopted?"

I shrugged. "Reincarnation does odd things with the soul." I said.

"It does to hear Yami tell it, at least." He agreed. He looked over at my proposal. "So what is all this?"

"School." I said as I pulled the pages into an orderly stack. I'd just as soon he not see the nude test photos of the girls.

"Ugh." He looked around the studio.

I looked at him.

Uncle Moke was stunning. Taller than Father, jet black hair that he kept at shoulder length, but always looked windblown, dark eyes that seemed to absorb mine every time I found myself looking into them. Broad shoulders, muscular chest, six-pack abs, tanned. My father's brother looked very little like my father although they were utterly devoted to each other emotionally.

It was illicit and wicked, but every time I saw him, I found myself thinking about sex. The focus tricks were powerless in the face of That Face.

I knew it was wrong, but it was truly my favorite fantasy; looking at Uncle Moke and wondering what it would be like to trace my fingers down his chest, over his abs, below his belt....

Of course the problem was always that once I got physically aroused, the guilt and shame issues all popped into my head. That was why Uncle Ryuji taught me how to block my own responses in the first place; he thought I'd feel better if I had more control over what I felt. I know what Father told me and I know what Ryou-Sensei told me, but I still had to wonder if I would ever feel ok about sex; if I'd ever want to touch anyone that way. Want to allow anyone to touch me that way. Again. Or if I'd ever actually enjoy either.

Looking at Uncle Moke was a form of masochism.

"Did you need something?" I asked him.

"Huh?" He looked up from the metalwork I'd done, a bit confused. "Oh, yeah! Joey wants you back at the house. He said you weren't answering the phone so I volunteered to come find you."

"Oh." I began shutting my workspace down.

Papa had said something at breakfast about he and I going to the market downtown. There was no real need for us to do that sort of thing - the household staff took care of groceries and such - but Papa liked to do some kind of errand with each of us kids at least once a week. He said he and his mom had their best conversations while shopping for melons or looking for a new teapot. I didn't know if they were the best conversations, but I hated missing my turn to hang out with Papa for those errands.

"Oh, right!" Uncle Moke snapped his fingers. "That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Hian and Auset's tattoos. Wicked cool, dude."

"Oh. Thanks."

"So, I was wondering if you'd do one for me."

"A tramp stamp?" Uncle Moke bent over in front of me as I decorated the top of his ass... Oh my....

He laughed again. He had a loud, easy, open laugh. I could have listened to it for hours.

"No - well, not this time at least." He sat on the edge of my worktable. "I want three dragons. One on each arm, and one across my chest. Black, white and red."

I closed my desk drawer. That was a lot of ink. That was yakuza-level ink. I looked at him. The right design would highlight the strength of those arms. I'd never mar that chest, but around his shoulders, a dragon would....

"William?"

I snapped out of my reverie and found my mouth dry. "Uh. Yeah. Is - uh - does Father know -"

"Nii-sama can have a stroke if he wants." Uncle Moke chuckled. "I'm almost thirty; I'm old enough to make a decision or two on my own."

Almost thirty. He barely looked twenty.

"So? What do you think?"

"Uh -" I tried to pull my mind out of the gutter and think about the project realistically. "That's a lot of ink. It'll take me a while to design and draw. And of course, someone else will have to do the real tattooing."

He shrugged. "I can work from Domino for a while. And you can get the license for this stuff can't you?"

"I'm sixteen?" I reminded him.

"Fuck that. I'll pull a couple strings." He grinned. "It's good to be Kaiba."

He'd probably make one phone call. It was amazing the kind of high caste power my family had. I shrugged and opened the drawer where I store my pens. "Take off your shirt." I'm never going to relax about being in lust with my uncle so I may as well get the project started.

"What, now?" He laughed yet again. "We really should rename you Seto, Jr! You have a date with Joey and I have a date with..." He paused and frowned for a moment. "New chick...works at the White Dragon.... Kayuko! That's her name - Taro Kayuko."

* * *

As it turned out, I was not willing to do the five-year apprenticeship required to learn the true art of tattooing in any reputable shop, so together, Uncle Moke and I found a shop with an artist I thought was capable of finalizing my designs.

It took us a couple weeks to visit all the shops we were considering and during that time, I got to spend more time, one-on-one, with Uncle Mokuba than I ever had before. He was smart and funny and perfect.

A crush, I told myself over and over. A perfectly normal, adolescent crush. The fact that he was my father's brother was irrelevant; teenage hormones do not acknowledge appropriate boundaries. I had a crush on an older man whom I admired and respected. There was no possibility that he could feel the same way. And since I felt guilty even touching myself, there was no chance of me doing something that made the whole thing awkward.

"Hey, you do metal and woodwork, right?" He asked me one afternoon as we were heading to the office so that he could attend a meeting. I had a meeting with my advisor so I was going to campus after we dropped him off.

"Some."

"What about weapon design?"

"What about it?"

"Have you tried it?"

"No." I hadn't even considered it. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I just thought it might be something you'd be good at. I was hoping you'd help me with a design problem."

He wanted my help?

It's only a crush. It's only a crush. It's only a crush.

He went on. "One of the Imperial bitches thinks that her security's weapons are 'ugly' and common. So, she commissioned KaibaArms to make her something 'pretty'." He snorted. "And since we're Imperial Vassals, it is naturally my privilege to create something worthy of the delicate royal pain in the ass."

I wasn't sure what to say; what's a pretty gun?

"Yeah," he nodded. "That expression's about what I said when Nii-sama dropped the damn thing on my desk. I'm losing my mind trying to come up with something functional and 'pretty'. I thought you might have an idea or two."

I thought about it. With weapons, form follows function so you can't really do anything about the basic shape. But you could do some aesthetics with the exteriors.

"Here." Somehow, Uncle Moke read my mind and handed me a note pad and a pen.

The first thing would be material for the grip. Polished wood was the old style and any number of metals and stones can be inlaid. But both ideas would fit my definition of 'common'. Etching and anodizing would create something more unique. And I could include both the Imperial Kamon and the Kaiba dragon.

"Sir?"

I glared at the driver. "What?"

"We're here."

"Oh." Then I realized that Uncle Moke was not in the car. Then I realized that we were at my advisor's office. I'd missed the entire trip working on the idea. "Thanks." I got out of the car.

* * *

I was meticulous in researching gunsmithing and designing the weapons for the Imperial Princess. I used a number of different techniques and wound up spending a lot of time in the KaibaCorp office building. I took some time off from my Master's degree - it was self-paced anyway - and concentrated on making a line of security weapons fit for royalty.

I acid etched the Imperial Kamon and the KaibaCorp logo. Over the entire remaining surface, I etched a floral pattern. Then, I carefully anodized the metal to give it a rainbow color effect that was iridescent yet subtle. I made a pistol, a revolver, a rifle and a stun gun.

Each took its own effort and modifications, and I spent far more time than I ever dreamed I would in the KC smithy. Since I wasn't allowed to have the whole room filled with music, I had my headphones on at full volume.

When my phone rang, I heard the old Star Wars Imperial March - which is still one of the best pieces ever for a dramatic entrance.

"Hello, Father."

"You're here late." A familiar and somewhat amused voice said softly.

"I'll go home with you." I replied. "Is that ok?"

"If you are leaving with me, then I suggest that you put away that acid."

How the hell...? I looked over my shoulder and saw my bemused father putting his phone away. I took off the headphones and put the lid back on the jar as he crossed the room.

"Lovely." He said, carefully turning the pistol I had been finishing. "How will you finish this section of the barrel?"

"A jade inlay, I think."

He shook his head. "It will crack if the weapon is ever fired. Most gemstones will. How on earth did you get this extraordinary color so consistent?"

"I used that." I gestured to the modified welding tool.

Father put the gun down and studied the contraption. "New design?" he asked.

Obviously. "I needed the intensity of a welding arc applied to the entire piece at one time. I couldn't find anything that did that, and I got tired of looking. So I built this."

He turned it on, watched the eight flames burn for a moment, and then adjusted the heat levels. He turned it off, and studied the fuel sources and the, admittedly, makeshift wiring. "Brilliant." He said at last. "Utterly amazing." He pulled out his phone and left a voice mail for the R&D manager to come see me about the tool first thing in the morning. "Now. When will the weapons be ready?"

"Well, if I can figure out what to do with the pistol barrel, I can have the prototypes finished tomorrow. I don't know how many were ordered so I don't know how long it will take to finish that part.

"I want them on my desk before you leave for the day tomorrow." He said. "Enough for today. Joey is undoubtedly annoyed because we'll turn into pumpkins if we arrive an instant after midnight." I glanced at my watch; it was already after 1am. He put his hand on my chin and lifted my face to his. "I am genuinely impressed with your work here." He actually beamed. "I am exceedingly proud of you, William."

* * *

Father, Uncle Mokuba and I waited, on the floor, properly humble, while Her Imperial Highness examined the array of weapons we presented to her in a custom-made, black lacquered box with purple velvet and red silk lining.

She had ooh'ed over the color, and aah'ed about the engraving. She hadn't bothered to consider the mechanics of the guns; she handed the booklet containing the technical specs to one of her aides. She was more interested in the box than in the quality of the weapons.

She asked a great number of stupid questions before one of the men sitting with her sighed heavily. "Sister, enough! Do you like them?"

"Well..." She turned the pistol around in her hands. "They are the prettiest one's I've seen so far."

"I doubt you will see any," he rolled his eyes, "prettier."

"Can I keep these?" She asked.

"No!" I snapped. They were my prototypes!

"Of course." Father said smoothly. "They are our gift to you, Highness. Imperial Prince, if you would prefer, we can discuss the commercial matters of quantities and cost at another time."

"There is no need." The Prince gestured and a military-looking man handed Father an envelope. Father slipped it into his pocket without opening it. "That is what we require."

"Your Imperial Highness is most considerate." Father said.

"Our cousins are most kind." The Prince replied. "The weapons are truly works of art."

Cousins? I looked at my father and uncle who seemed to have no response to the word. The Prince hadn't used the Japanese word meaning 'close friend of the family'; he used the one meaning 'blood kin'. They were cousins of the Imperial family? That would explain a lot.

Then, we were suddenly standing and bowing, and exchanging farewells.

The princess bound over to me and I realized that she was much younger than I was. "Thank you so much, Kaiba-san!" She hugged me. "I'll keep them forever."

I frowned, but over her head, Father gave me a rather expectant look. I tried not to sigh aloud. "It was my pleasure, Princess." I managed without any sincerity at all. "The Kaiba Family is always happy to serve."

We made it all the way to the car before Uncle Moke burst. "Holy fuck! What a little brat! Did you see that? She didn't even ask if they'd been test fired!"

"And those were my originals!" I added. "I always keep the originals!"

Father chuckled. "And neither of you is even vaguely interested in what she is willing to pay for those originals she didn't test fire?"

"Gimme that." Uncle Moke reached for the envelope that Father had pulled out, but Father moved it out of his reach. Despite his earlier irritation, my uncle smiled. "Seto! Come on! I know you already know what's in there."

"Me?" Father failed to look innocent. "How would I know?"

"You always know, Nii-sama. Come on, big bro; it is my contract."

Father pretended to think about it, and then tossed his brother the envelope. Uncle Moke opened it, flipped to the last page, and laughed.

"I trust you approve of the profit margin?" Father asked.

"Yeah. I can live with 24%."

I frowned. With a margin that high, I was unlikely to get my prototypes back. 'Paying the cost,' Father would say.

* * *

I cleaned my studio, set up a workstation with a low backed chair I hoped would be comfortable, and picked music I thought Uncle Moke would like - at a volume that we could talk over without shouting. It was summer so I had all the windows open.

I had a few ideas for the dragons that I'd been contemplating, but I didn't know how elaborate Uncle wanted the designs. I'd done a few sketches based on things like his car and the decor in his room. I was looking them over again when he knocked on the door.

"Come!" I yelled, not looking up from my work. I'd left it unlocked for him.

"Hey! How's it going?" He asked cheerfully.

"Fine." I frowned at the drawing. I was missing something. Then I realized what. "Why?"

"What?"

"Why?" I repeated. "Why multicolored dragons, why this placement?"

"Oh." He actually looked embarrassed. "It's, well, ok. It's corny." He hesitated. "You want me to sit over here?" He asked, still not answering the question.

"Yes. Take off your shirt." I managed not to blush when I said it.

But he blushed as he did it! "Sure. Of course." He sat down. "Ok. Don't laugh. The dragons are for the ancestors. Not all of them, just the last generation. My father and my two aunts."

"Oh." That was nothing to laugh at. I honestly thought he just wanted something 'cool'. I forgot about Uncle Mokuba's deep, traditional, reverent side. He was sharing that part of himself with me.

It's just a crush. It's just a crush. It's just a crush.

"Ok." I stood behind him. "Which dragon did you want here?" I used one finger to lightly trace the back of his shoulders. Firm, smooth, taut. The kind of shoulders I wanted to rub my cheek against.

His shoulders stiffened slightly. Then he cleared his throat. "I'd been thinking of putting the red one on my chest, not my back. I figured the black and white on my arms."

"It will look better on your shoulders." I pointed out. "And if it's the black one. They should all be black." It would be sexy as all hell and then some.

"The red's for Auntie - Noah's mother. She died before you were adopted; before you were born, really. She was the closest thing I had to a mom growing up." He smiled at the memory. "She used to bring us almond cookies on me and Seto's birthdays. Dad tried to ban sugar from the house, but she always found a way to sneak them in to us." He laughed softly. "She even shipped them to me the years I was in Paris." He looked at me. "You've never been inside the family crypt, have you?"

"Why do we have a crypt?" I asked. I thought everyone in Japan was cremated.

He chuckled as he put on his shirt again. "We're Kaiba. We have everything." He picked up his phone and dialed. "Bring my NSX to the main house." That was the car he used when he didn't want a driver. He hung up and dialed again. "Dude! Hey! William's with me. Yeah. Cool. Later." He hung up and grinned at me. "You ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"Field trip. We're going to the crypt. I'll tell you what I know about my aunts on the way. And about Dad." We walked back to where his car was waiting. "I know Nii-sama doesn't talk about him much."

"Not at all."

"Yeah." My uncle sounded sad. "Dad was - he was difficult." He didn't say anything more for a while.

* * *

In the wedding portrait, Uncle Mokuba is smiling. You can just see the grip of the revolver he was holding as he looks into the distance. What he was looking at was Papa and Auset racing to see who could get to the target first, but in the photo all you see is Uncle, smiling.

In the few portraits that I've done of Uncle, I have three small dragons - red, black and white - with him. A running joke alluding to his tattoos, which were seldom visible. This time, White was peering out under his gun hand with the same smile as Uncle. Black and Red were watching from his shirt pocket.

Uncle always laughs when he sees the dragons. He seems to love finding them. Now I feel like I'm painting them for the last time. They were our joke. Our secret.

Now, he was marrying her.

* * *

It was two weeks of false starts before Uncle Moke sat in my studio, half-naked, and I began drawing the first of three full-sized dragons across the back and shoulders that I'd begun to dream about holding.

I had learned, during the intervening time, a lot about Uncle's relationship with his father, and with the aunt he knew.

"I think Nii-sama knows more about Aunt Kisara than he's told me." Uncle said as I worked on his shoulder. "I mean I know Blue Eyes, White Dragon is his signature card, but sometimes it seems like there's more to it than that." He paused. "Like he did know Aunt Kisara - like she was his mom." He turned and looked at me suddenly, making me smear the line I was drawing. "That didn't make any sense at all."

"Father rejects your father." I pointed out with a shrug. "Maybe he has adopted the Aunt he never knew as a parent he can accept."

He laughed. "Seto? Emotional escapism? Never!"

"It was only a thought." I looked at the smudged line and tried to correct it. "Hold still."

I concentrated on drawing, on seeing canvas not his skin. On the dragon, not the muscles beneath.

But I couldn't escape the feel of him or the musky scent of his sweat during the heat of the day. I couldn't avoid my own arousal or my own pounding heartbeat. No mental trick could overcome spending that much time touching him.

It's only a crush. It's only a crush. It's only a crush. It's only...

"Nephew?"

His face was next to mine. His lips were next to mine. He was panting. I did the boldest thing I'd ever done.

I kissed him.

His lips were firm, but soft. His tongue tasted like the cola he'd been sipping. His strong hand caressed the back of my neck, making it impossible for me to think of anything else. I realized that my shirt was gone, but I had no memory of removing it only of the pleasure his hand brought me when it stroked my chest. I could feel my own hardness rubbing against his. Throbbing. Our pants were in the way, dulling the sensation. I dropped one hand to his belt.

Uncle groaned into our kiss and leaned forward, pushing us both to the floor. We struggled to remove his pants first without releasing our mouths. Then, he pulled me sideways and began removing my pants. I wound up on top of him and, perhaps wickedly, took the advantage.

I slipped down, between his legs, forcing him to sit up slightly to keep hold of my lips. My hands stroked his lingam - long, hard, pulsing. I reached lower and cupped his stones. He groaned again and his kiss became greedier.

I reached further, found his opening and used my fingers to explore it. Uncle quivered, held me tighter, kissed me deeper. I could not control myself.

I inserted my lingam into his opening.

I could not stop my own moan of ecstasy. Uncle clung to me and growled, and it was a moment before I realized that his hands were attempting to push not pull.

I lay very still as I realized that I had just done to Uncle Moke what so many men had done to me. I found myself shaking. My stomach turned.

And yet, even with my guilt, it felt so good to be joined with him.

"It's ok, William." He whispered, his arms wrapping tightly around me. "I just wasn't expecting that. It's ok." He kissed me again. And again. "Don't stop now." He breathed. "We're just starting the good part."

I'd never been seme before. The men in Arga always wanted to take a young boy, not to be taken by one. Uncle Moke whispered how good it felt. He spread his legs wider. He told me to speed up. He guided my hand along his lingam until he gasped and burst.

"Come for me, Will." He groaned. A minute or so later, I did.

And for the first time, I did not want to slit my own wrists.

I found myself waking in my Uncle's arms, feeling more loved and safer than I had ever felt in my life. I looked up to see him smiling down at me.

"Hey." He said softly.

"Hey." I replied with a smile of my own.

"We should probably talk about that." He observed.

I sat up, my guilt cascading in on me. "I am Dalit." I remembered. Unclean by caste. By birth.

"The fuck?" My uncle sat up beside me. "Who said that?"

"It is my karma." I sighed. "Dad says..."

"Bullshit!" He turned me by my shoulders to face him. "Yami would never say anything like that to you."

"Dad says we cannot escape the karma we are born with."

"I don't give a damn what you were born!" He grabbed my chin the way Father would have and made me met his eyes. "You are a son of the House of Kaiba, William. Not even the Emperor is greater caste than you."

I shook my head sadly. "You would not say that had you known what I was before."

He rolled his eyes. "Ryou told us where and how he found you. You thought we didn't know? Of course we knew. If Seto hadn't adopted you, I would have. No kid should have gone through what you did, Will. But you aren't less than anything because of it. I'm amazed by you." He stroked my cheek. "So strong no matter what life does to you. So much like Seto."

At that moment, I realized that I'd found the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

* * *

"So what do you think?"

It had taken most of the summer for me to finish the art, and for the subsequent tattoo artist to complete all three dragons. Black dragon guided Uncle Moke's right hand, White dragon tempered his left, and Red dragon gave him support and courage. He unveiled the three at a family pool party.

Naturally, there was a split - largely along age lines. My sister, brother and cousins all thought the tattoos were yet more proof the Uncle Moke was the only 'cool' adult in the family. The family adults took them as a sign that he was still the oldest 'child'.

"Mokuba, do you know what people will think when they see all that?" Aunt Anzu asked him. "Why would you do something so reckless?"

"Reckless? Oh come on!" He laughed. "I didn't get my whole body covered."

"One has to wonder if that's next." Dad commented.

"No, it's not." My uncle sighed, irritated. "You all could at least appreciate William's art!"

"Oh, is that what you two were doing, locked up in his studio day after day!" Papa observed. "I knew something bad was going on."

I blushed. That was part of what we were doing in there. When we weren't making love to each other.

It had become a regular activity for us. At least once a week, in my studio, kissing, and groping, and making each other cry out. He helped me feel ok about feeling pleasure. He helped me feel pleasure in making him feel pleasure. Both were things that I had always felt guilt and shame about before.

"That's what's supposed to happen, Will. It's good." He laughed, a bit ironically. "Not with someone twice your age or related to you, of course. But in general, when someone does this, you're supposed to like it."

'This' included sucking my lingam, licking my entrance, and letting me enter him.

"But, I should not." I said repeatedly over the summer. "You should not be the woman."

He'd kiss me and stroke my neck. "I'm not doing that to you until you're ready. Besides, it feels good when you do it. I'm enjoying this - us." Then, he would always turn serious. "Besides, it can't last forever. We can't keep seeing each other."

And of course he was right. Once I finished the art and he'd begun the tattooing itself, I'd only seen him twice. This family gathering was the first time in two weeks we'd been in the same building at the same time.

We could not be together openly, and yet, I did not want our relationship to end. Not yet. Not ever.

Go to: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

My phone rang. Again.

I no longer kept my music so loud that I couldn't hear anything, but I still claimed to not hear people calling or banging on the door. I was pretty sure my fathers knew I was fibbing, but they let me get away with it.

I glanced at the missed call.

Uncle Mokuba.

There was a time when I wouldn't have needed to look. He had a special ringtone. I never ignored his calls, never locked the door to him.

It got too hard, though. Hearing his ring tone and knowing that he was going to be at the office late. Or that he was still overseas - or going overseas. Or that he wouldn't be able to come see me because he had a date.

Usually with a woman.

Uncle Moke never lied to me. He was as honest and open as he always was. He never pretended that he would ever defy my father to be with me. Or that, at heart, I was anything more than a favored nephew.

I sighed and looked out the western window at the trees that hid my sanctuary from the world. I was more to him than that. The problem, really, was that I wasn't the love of his life - the way he was for me. My uncle did not return the full depth of my feelings.

Quelle surprise.

The phone rang again. I looked in its direction. I should speak to him. It's not as if he didn't tell me what was going on.

* * *

We were in Tahiti.

My Master's Exhibit had not only been a huge success at my university, but museums worldwide had requested showings. I'd spent almost a year and a half touring the globe with it.

I had discovered, during that time, how important my family was to me. I missed them terribly while I was traveling. I came home as often as I could, and they came to visit me as their schedules allowed. But it wasn't nearly enough, and I spent most of the trip lonely and miserable.

I also learned that I no longer felt like every sexual innuendo aimed at me was an assault. For the first time in my life, sex wasn't a threat or a tool. It was a pleasure. I didn't stop using Uncle Ryuji's mental trick - that dispassion at will was far too useful - but I understood, finally, what Ryou-Sensei meant when he told me that there was a difference between sex for love or fun and sex for commerce or assault. Before, they had all been the same act to me. Uncle Moke taught me, however, that one act could have many feelings. The touch that used to bring only shame could also bring joy; force and capitulation were one thing, while desire and choice were quite another.

I even caught myself flirting once or twice. It was completely meaningless; my heart was taken and my body desired no one else.

The few times Uncle Moke came to see me, we spent every opportunity wrapped around each other, breathlessly giving and taking, until I was afraid I would die of bliss.

When the tour finally ended, Uncle Moke suggested that I take a vacation to recover, and Father - who had hinted that he suspected I had taken a lover during my tour - insisted that I take a chaperone. Uncle Moke volunteered.

He took me to Tahiti. The beach was glorious. The natives were enchanting. Mokuba was perfect. If I hadn't already been in love with him, I would have fallen under his spell as we sat on the moonlit beach and listened to the waves.

"William." He said one afternoon. "Nephew, we need to talk."

We were sitting on the beach, watching some local children making sand castles. I was thinking of building a sandbox behind my studio and taking up sand art.

"You always say that when you want to tell me about her." His American girlfriend. I'd met her by then. She was all the things you would expect in a woman who could keep Uncle's attention for longer than a day.

"I'm serious. We need to talk. I don't want to say this and you don't want to hear it, but..." He looked at me, "...but we both knew this wasn't forever."

I found myself shivering, despite the heat of the sun.

He put his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. "I wish things were different, William, I really do. But there is no way we can go any further." He smelled like coconut and sun and seawater. I focused on his scent and not his words. "This is the last time we can be together. When we get home, I'm..." He kissed my head again and held me tighter. "William, I'm getting married.

The words hurt. They hurt more than if he'd just stabbed me with a knife. "You can't." I whispered.

"It's time, William. It's past time. I have to grow up and I think Yvette's the right woman."

"She's a woman." I spat. I could feel tears forming. "You love me."

"William." He kissed my head again. "Of course I love you. You're my nephew. Whatever happens, you'll always be part of my life. Nothing can change that."

I turned around and looked at him. "I mean you're in love with me. We're in love with each other."

His eyes seemed tearful too. "You're my brother's son. Even if it were true that we were in love like that, how could we be more than secret lovers?"

I thought about that. It was true; no one in our family - no one we knew - would accept our relationship if we made it public. The resulting scandal might be enough to, quite literally, ruin the family name.

Dalit. Even with all that had happened, I was still Unclean - Untouchable - and now, my taint would defile everyone who'd touched me.

"William?" Uncle grabbed my chin, tried to make me look at him, but my eyes were too clouded with tears. "Talk to me, nephew! Don't shut me out."

"You promised you'd always be here for me!" I pushed away from him. Made myself stand up. "You said you loved me!"

"I do, and I will be. We're family, Will. That is so much more than being your lover." He stood up and stepped toward me. I took several steps away from him. "William, we need to talk this out."

"I don't want to talk this out!" I snapped. "Have you told Father yet?" I asked, praying he hadn't.

Uncle nodded. "Nii-sama and Noah both agreed to the marriage." He took a step closer. "William..."

I took a step back. "Have you asked her yet?" Maybe she'll say 'no'.

He gave a half-hearted smile. "Actually, she asked me. Last month." He laughed, embarrassed. "She told me to shit or get off the pot."

"And you shit." I snipped. His smile faded. "On me."

"That's not what's happening! Damn it! What do you expect me to do? You're only 18. You are my brother's son! Have you ever even thought about that? Do you know what I go through to keep us off security's radar? William, it doesn't matter how either of us feel, we are Kaiba. Seto talks about 'paying the cost', well, this is it, William. The cost of being Kaiba for you is that the man you love is totally out of your reach. And for me, it means I'm getting married whether I want to or not, and whether I love her or not. And then, I'm having a son so that the legacy is guaranteed - and the fact that you and your sibling, and Noah's kids will all inherit the 'mantle of power' long before any kid of mine is even considered is irrelevant! Don't think for one minute that you are the only one getting shafted here!"

"Then, stand up to him!" I threw myself into his arms. "If you feel as I do, defy him. We'll go somewhere together, just you and I."

He held me tightly and I found myself weeping.

Neither of us would defy Father. Neither of us would run away to some magic place where my father's security forces would not find us. I doubted there was a place - even a magical one - where they could not find us. Uncle Mokuba and I may have been in love with each other, but neither of us was willing to hurt my father so deeply. Neither of us was willing to tear our family apart so brutally.

He held me until I stopped weeping. Then he pulled me back and kissed my tears. "William, we have three more days. Three days to savor each other. I don't want to spend them mourning. This is fall, nephew. Winter is coming. Let's just enjoy the beauty that is now. Can we do that?"

I had to laugh, even through my tears. "You say things like that and I'm not supposed to love you?"

* * *

There wasn't anything else, really, that I needed to do to the portrait. Actually, it was probably done a day or two ago, but I'd been refusing to let it go.

I was acting as if the American service didn't count. As if the marriage wasn't real until the painting was finished. Of course that wasn't true. It wasn't even that I didn't like my new Aunt Yvette; she would have been lovely if she were marrying anyone else.

But much like the painting, I couldn't let him go.

* * *

My mood after we returned from my 'vacation' was more sullen and bad tempered than usual. I spent even more time in my studio making nothing worth the effort - although several of the pieces were critically acclaimed as 'masterful' and one was sold at a charity auction for almost a million yen.

It was junk. It was all junk.

It was something to justify spending my time in the studio, but my mind wasn't on creation. It was on the impending wedding.

Months went by before Uncle Moke barged into my studio. I had the music at full volume again, but I'd put a pressure plate for the lights on the hinge so that if the door opened, the lights flashed. Still, since the door had been locked, I didn't actually need to look up to see who had entered.

"What are you doing?" He demanded.

"I am making glass." Clearly.

"That's not what I meant, damn it!" He sounded exasperated. "Why are you being such a royal bitch?"

"I have been told that when I am working, I am always a bit testy."

I reached for the tweezers, but Uncle grabbed them first. "Why are you being such a dick?"

I considered for a moment whether my uncle was truly that obtuse or if he was attempting some form of ironic humor. "I'm not sure how to respond to that. You can't really be asking me why I'm behaving like a jilted lover." I blew into the pipe again; another inch or so of length would be ok. "I am making glass-ware gifts this year for Christmas. And probably for Nobu and Papa's birthdays. Do you think my sister will like this color?"

He sighed. "If you make it, Auset will love it. I know you're angry with me, but do you have to treat Yvette like a leper?"

"Yes." I stood up and lifted the glass soon-to-be vase onto a paddle. I was reasonably satisfied with the overall shape; now it was time to start adding details.

"William..." Uncle Moke's shoulders fell. "What do you want me to do here?"

"Break the engagement and come back to me." That statement should have been as obvious and as unnecessary as pointing out that the vat of liquid glass was "hot".

"You know I can't do that."

"You asked what I wanted." I knew I was being petulant, but I honestly didn't care. "Not what was possible." I reached out and waited for him to hand me back the tweezers. I used them to begin pulling out broad shapes that would eventually become leaves.

"Why are you being so childish about this?"

I couldn't answer that. I wasn't entirely sure. I wanted to like her. I wanted to have my uncle back, at least, if I'd truly lost my lover.

But every time I looked at either of them, I felt sick. I felt my heart sink. I thought of my fathers and wondered why they had a love that lasted throughout the ages and mine could not last a year.

Once Dalit, always Dalit. Anything I touch becomes defiled. The men who purchase me when I was on the streets, they didn't defile me, I defiled them because I am - and always will be...

...Unclean. Karma is a bitch.

"William!" Uncle Mokuba had both his hands on my cheeks. "Come back."

I was going to cry again. I couldn't stop myself.

"You always go there, don't you?" He asked softly. He pulled me into his arms. "You are Kaiba, now, William. Your karma is ours. Nothing else matters."

He always seemed to know what I was thinking. How could I stop loving him?

* * *

I did spend some time with her. I could hardly blame her for falling in love with him. If I had to lose him, she was a tolerable choice. Almost.

I went back to America with them in part to oversee a new KaibaGames product launch - high end, die cast figurines of ultra rare cards, rendered in full color. We had given a complete set to Grampa Mutou for display before we released them to the general market and he sold out the day he got his first shipment. Father was hoping US sales would be as strong. I was just hoping that the factories mass-producing the small statues I had designed had quality control standards.

Uncle Mokuba and I toured one facility, and I looked over some of the finished products.

"No." I said as soon as I opened the box of Red-Eyed Black Dragons.

"No?" The idiot who'd been leading the tour looked at my uncle. "No, what? Who is this kid, anyhow?"

Uncle ignored him and looked in the box. "What's wrong with them?"

I pulled one out. "The tail." He looked at it more specifically, but didn't see the problem. "It curves to the left."

"Ok." Uncle said, still not getting it.

"Black dragon is on the right, white dragon is on the left, red is in the center." I touched his right arm, lightly traced the black dragon hidden under his sleeve. "Always."

He got it then. "Always?" I looked back at the stock so I didn't cry looking at him. He cleared his throat and turned back to the Americans. "Either you guys have the wrong die or it's installed backward. All of these are trash. William, can they be melted down?"

I looked over the pieces. "They have to be striped of color first." I took a breath and pulled myself together. "And I want to oversee the die correction. How did no one know what the end product was supposed to look like?"

"That's a lot of materials! The cost...!" The factory man started to protest. "Mr. Kaiba, I appreciate you all want tight quality here, but we can sell those as..."

"You're fired." Uncle said flatly. He turned to his security man. "Take him back to his office, give him ten minutes to clean out his desk, and then escort him to the lobby. Personnel will bring your last check there. You, in the short skirt; get the rest of the management staff in a conference room in five minutes. Nephew, go look at anything you want; if it's wrong, figure out why and fire whomever's responsible."

* * *

"They are calling it the 'Return of Gozaburo'." Uncle Noah laughed. We were having a three-way video conference call. "I've been getting nothing for a day but panicked managers calling to see when they will be inspected. I've told them all 'next'."

Father laughed too. "Brother, you've outdone yourself. I'm sorry I missed what must have been quite a show."

"It wasn't all that." Uncle deferred with an embarrassed laugh. "That asshole just pissed me off! I mean, come on! I've been to the Ford plant. They don't give shit to guys named 'Ford'. William told him the stock was bad; that should have ended it." Uncle looked at me. "They used to treat me the same way. They assumed because I was young, I didn't know shit."

"I suspect they won't be making that mistake again." Uncle Noah chuckled.

"No, indeed." Father agreed. "Son, I want you to stay in America with Mokuba, take over KaibaGames US operations and oversee this launch."

I stared at him. I'd only recently turned 17. I'd worked on small products over the years, but I'd never even headed a team, never mind an entire division.

He smiled reassuringly. "I have every faith that you will rise to this challenge. Use the competent staff who are there, remove the staff who are in the way. Mokuba is there if you need him and I am merely a phone call away."

"But what if I make a mistake?" I asked, praying that this was one of Father's 'jokes'.

"You'll learn from it." Father said. "Of course, if we take a loss, I'll take it out of your allowance."

"Ok, Tak, move!" Papa leaned over Father's shoulder, his cascade of blond hair blocking Father's face for a moment. "Hey, Wolf! How's it going out there? You ok? You look pale; are you taking those supplements I sent you?"

"I'm fine, Papa." Even with just the family, it was mortifying.

"If you're going to embarrass the boy, Joey," I heard Dad say from off-screen, "ask him about the blind date."

A friend of Yvette's; he and I had dinner, and I was home - alone - before 9pm. "It was fine, thanks." I said before Papa asked.

"I am in my office, working." Father looked at his spouses a little more amused than annoyed.

"Yeah, well you said you'd take the day off, so if you're on the phone with him, I get to talk to my kid!" Papa turned back to me. "You haven't called since you got there, so I've been worried. Are you eating right?"

"Papa, please. I promise I'll call tonight."

He frowned. "It's just the family, Will. Don't get all huffy. You're still my kid and I still get to worry about you."

"Yes, Papa." Rolling my eyes would only get me grounded.

"And you can always call whoever it was you met in Tahiti." Dad added from the background.

"I didn't meet anyone there." I insisted yet again.

"Riiiiight." Papa smirked. "Cause I'm too old to know what a teen with a broken heart looks like."

"Papa - please!"

"Yes, Joey, please!" Father pleaded on my behalf. "You have embarrassed the boy enough for one day! William, I trust you. Noah, I'll probably come in this afternoon." Uncle Noah snickered. "Mokuba," Father chuckled. "Don't kill anyone. I'm not sure I can get you off of that charge."

"Bye guys!" Papa yelled as the screen went dark.

"I should be going too." Uncle Noah looked at his watch. "I have a meeting with the bank in a few minutes. And, for the record, William, I won't consider it a loss if you keep it under ten thousand yen. Mokuba, your quarter end stats are late. I need them today."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Uncle Moke hung up and groaned. "I hate stats! That'll kill my whole day."

"Uncle..." I gaped at the empty screen. "I - I can't do this! I -"

"William!" He grabbed me by the shoulders.

Then he kissed me. Our arms slowly slipped around one another and I was completely limp in his arms when his lips released mine.

"You can do this, William." He whispered. "I have faith in you, too." He kissed me again - once, lightly - then left the room.

I fell into the nearest chair. It was too much. Uncle, Father, they were both more than any one person should have to cope with.

* * *

I did touch-up the background on Uncle Mokuba's portrait. Ryou-Sensei would have to be careful of wet paint when I finally hung it.

I picked up the photo I was working from and studied it for a moment. I usually worked from photos; live models were frustrating. They moved, they talked.

In Uncle's case, they made irresistible passes at me while I was trying to work. Nearly all of my positive sexual history had happened in my studio.

Almost all of it with Uncle. Almost.

* * *

The first weekend in September, I took a private plane from our factory in Louisiana to West Virginia.

I was not alone.

"Wolf, come on - just be nice to the guy, ok?" Papa was still asking not telling me, but I really didn't want to go to this damn wedding in the first place. "I haven't seen him since I was, like, your age."

"Then why is he attending?" I hated babysitting.

"Because weddings are when you see distant, long-lost family! Look, William, it's already set. The plane's picking him up in Chicago and bringing you both to Richmond. You're going to drive up from there."

"Drive?" That would take hours! "Why can't we just fly all the way in?"

"How the hell do I know? Some asshole at the FAA - permits or something. We'll get it fixed eventually, but it doesn't matter now. They got one of those tour bus things for you guys, right? It's even got a bedroom so if you really can't stand my cousin, you can pretend to sleep the whole trip and ignore him." He paused for effect. "You know, like you always do on family road trips."

It wasn't as if the end was in doubt. I was going to West Virginia. I was going with my distant cousin Jesse.

Jesse was blond with the same cascade of thick hair, the same deep amber eyes as Papa. My cousin resemble Papa in many respects, in fact - not the least of which being his extroverted nature.

"Wow! We're related?" He said when I offered my hand in greeting. "That sucks. You're a hottie."

I wasn't entirely sure how to take the comment - although I had to admit to having a similar response when I saw him enter the lounge at O'Hara. "I am adopted. Papa - your cousin Katsuya - is my adopted father's husband."

"Kat-sue-ya? Oh, right! His Japanese name! He's always been just plain old Joey to me." He laughed. "He used to have to best car - this blue mustang!"

"He still does. He let my sister drive it until she scratched the paint on the door handle. He was very upset." I had to smile; Papa raged about it for weeks. "Now, no one's allowed to even touch it except Papa."

He laughed. We exchange some basic information - age, education - as the plane took off. Once we were in the air, the co-pilot came out of the cabin.

"Gentlemen, I'm afraid we're a bit short-handed on this flight. We usually have an attendant, but you'll have to fend for yourselves this time. We have snacks in here and drinks are in this one. The cold sodas and lunch plates are in the cold case - you've got to open the latch here to get in it. And there's a microwave and coffee in that cabinet behind you. If you need anything else, just buzz and one of us will come out."

As soon as the co-pilot went back into the cockpit, Jesse got up and opened the drinks storage. "God damn! This is fully stocked! Hey, whatcha want?"

"Tea is fine." I rarely drank.

"Aw, come on. I went to Bartending College; let me make you something." He gave me a pleading look remarkably similar to the look Papa gives Dad and Father. "Live a little."

I tried to think of something obscure. "A Tahitian Lady."

"Uh, ok. Ok. Ok. Hang on." He checked the cold storage and pulled out several things. "Perfect!" He began opening, pouring, shaking and muttering to himself. I watched the process as much across his expressions as in his actions. A frown as he seemed unsure. His lips twisted as he mentally debated a decision. The smile of satisfaction as something met his internal approval. "Here." He handed me a glass that looked very much like the drink Uncle Mokuba and I lived on while on the island.

I sipped it and was reminded of sun and sand and making love under star-filled skies.

"I do something wrong?" He asked.

"No. It's perfect."

"You're pissed 'cause it's perfect?"

"Good drink, bad memories."

"Oooohh!" He nodded. "The ex. Yeah, I can't drink strawberry daiquiris anymore. Same thing."

I almost denied the assessment, but nodded instead.

He made a much simpler drink for himself and sat across from me. "He was one of those guys you know you shouldn't even look at, but you can't stop yourself, you know? It's like, you know even the fantasy is a bad idea, but when he asked me out, I couldn't even think the word 'no'."

I nodded again. I knew the type intimately.

Jesse sipped his drink thoughtfully. "But damn, he was hot! Perfect skin - that dark blue-black, you know? His parents were from Senegal. He had these perfect teeth and, oh man!" He looked at me and blushed faintly. "Sorry. Nobody wants to hear this kind of stuff."

I sipped my drink and shrugged. "At least if I'm listening to yours, I'm not talking about mine."

"True." He chuckled. "So? Yours?"

I choose my words carefully. "He was Japanese - black hair, black eyes, athletic build."

"Yeah, it's kind of hard not to find a hot J-guy. So what happened?"

I paused. "His family decided that he should get married. To a woman, of course."

"I guess in Japan, you can't just say, 'fuck off' and head for the coast." He smiled ruefully.

"Not in certain families." I smirked. "His probably owns the coast."

"Man, that sucks!"

"And yours?"

He sighed. "Jerk. He's in this band, right? I find out he's doing the whole band! Guys, girls, they just all pile into one bed and whatever happens, happens." He shook his head. "I'm cool if other people do that kind of stuff, but not MY guy, you know?"

"Mine never stopped dating other people." I admitted. "He'd even call me to cancel our date if there was a better option."

"Better option?" Jesse looked shocked. "Better than you? Seriously? Lucky jerk! I've never dated a guy as hot as you."

"What about the perfect Senegalese?"

"He was hot, seriously, but you look like one of those guys in those Bollywood movies!"

I laughed. "When I was a child, I dreamed about being able to afford to see one of those movies. After I was fostered, Ryou-Sensei - my foster-father - asked me what I wanted to do for fun and I said watch a movie. So he got me an account on line and I spent every free moment I had watching every Bollywood production I could download."

He laughed too, warmly. I realized I'd never shared that with anyone. I also realized that my glass was empty.

"Here. I got it." Jesse got up and made a second round of drinks.

By the time we landed, the bar was empty and Jesse and I were far too full.

* * *

The wedding had been as hard for Jesse as it had for me. His lover had proposed to him. They were planning a trip California to marry when Jesse learned of the band's sleeping arrangements.

After the ceremony, Jesse had come to my hotel room, red-eyed and unsteady, asking if he could stay with me. He was very clear about where he wanted to 'stay'. I let him in.

As soon as I closed the door, Jesse fell on me. Kissed me. I was too surprised to stop him.

"Look, I know you don't want me, but I just can't be alone tonight. Not after that. Just let me forget him, just for tonight. Please?"

He held me desperately and, after a moment, I put my arms around him. To forget. Even for only a night.

Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was our combined need. I don't know. Jesse kissed me again and this time I responded.

He began undressing; I was only wearing a robe so there wasn't much to remove. Even so, I waited until Jesse was bare to open the loose belt and let the garment hang open. He pushed it off my shoulders, and began kissing and nipping my neck.

We clung to each other. It wasn't making love, as it had been with Uncle Moke. But it wasn't degrading, as it was when I was a child. I tried to make Jesse feel like someone cared. Help him feel less alone, less hurt. Less like something Dalit, untouchable, unwanted.

When I woke in the morning, Jesse was still in my arms and I confess that I was glad to find him there. It made me feel less Dalit too.

When we left the hotel room, Uncle Mokuba and Aunt Yvette were leaving their room at the same time. My uncle's eyes narrowed as Jesse draped his arms around my neck.

"Thank you." Jesse said just before kissing me deeply.

I saw Uncle's jaw stiffen before I closed my eyes and gave in to Jesse's needs. When we released each other, my Uncle was gone.

* * *

There was no getting around it; there was nothing else I could do to my uncle's portrait without ruining it. It was finished.

Now, I should call Ryou-Sensei so he can get it and hang it in just the right place with just the right amount of light. Ryou-Sensei always did everything just the right way. He was as close to perfect as any human could expect to be. His husband, Uncle Ryuji, was a train wreck in comparison. Uncle Ryuji was always in a stir about something where Ryou-Sensei was always calm and serene. Living with them had been an adventure.

Ryou-Sensei wasn't in a stir over the final painting, but he had made me very aware of the past due deadline. Frequently.

I should call him and call the painting finished.

Call the relationship finished.

I had to let go, I knew that intellectually. My head understood that we could not be together. That he and Yvette were good together.

But my heart.... My heart still pounded when he smiled at me, still ached when he looked at her, still broke at the thought of letting go.

I picked up the paintbrush again. Maybe I could do a few last minute touch-ups.

* * *

I spent most of my time at factories in the US, replacing the die cast molds, and training staff to recognize the right quality of materials and the right quality of finished products.

I made sure that each quality control manager had a perfect, complete set on his or her desk to judge all others by. It was already November; we had to get shipments to stores by the 15th at the latest.

I learned to read spreadsheets. I learned how to yell at people who would not listen and how to teach people who would not learn. I did fire several people. I also promoted from within the company every time I fired someone.

I didn't see Uncle Mokuba. In truth, I didn't even have time to think about him most days.

I was surprised at the number of staff who attempted to curry favor by offering their bodies to me. The subtle ones amused me; the blatant ones, however, brought back too many of my own bad memories. I turned them all down, of course.

By December 5th, the November sales figures had started to roll in and Uncle Noah insisted that I sit in on the weekly management meeting. I was a nervous wreck by the time Uncle Mokuba read off the sales numbers for the US operations.

"Top of the month was in line with last year. The whole industry's down, so it wasn't like I was expecting some huge numbers."

"True." Father agreed. "But you only sent the number through the 15th. I'm sure you have some dramatic reveal?"

Uncle smiled. "Yep." He leaned over and tapped his computer. A moment later, I received an e-mail with the subject 'William's first sales figures'.

I nearly hyperventilated as I opened the attached spreadsheet and saw the graphs. The numbers were daily and the slope was nearly flat.

Uncle Noah whistled. "Very impressive. Your cousin Ryuka will be most envious; her first numbers weren't nearly as good."

"You're comparing apples and oranges, cousin." Father pointed out. "Ryuka went into a hostile market and sold a technology that had already failed once in the region. Given the impediments, I think her..."

Father and Uncle Noah often argued over which child had the best numbers - grades, sales, percentages. It didn't even matter which 'child' - Kaiba, Honda, Mutou, Jounouchi; the important part for them was which entity got the gain or loss.

I ignored the discussion. I hadn't taken a loss, but the figurines were expensive to make and these kinds of sales meant that my high artistic ideals would do little for the company bottom line.

"William? Son? Surely you have something to say in all this?" Father got my attention.

"I'm sorry." I sighed. "I'll come home now. I guess I'm not really 'Kaiba' after all." I hung up the phone, which disconnected the audio and video.

I could go home and lock myself in my studio. I still had Christmas gifts to make. I hadn't made birthday gifts for Nobu or Papa. I only had nine months left to come up with something spectacular for Uncle Moke's wedding.

In nine months, the man I loved was going to marry some woman. Maybe I could do a life-sized sculpture of us making love before I slit my wrists.

Dalit.

There was a knock on my office door.

"Mr. Kaiba?" My secretary, Gail Herger, was a very nice young woman who did everything she could to make me feel at home in the office. She knew far more about KaibaGames' products and sales than I would ever care to. She should be the one running this office. Her numbers wouldn't have been flat.

The door opened and Gail came in. "I'm sorry, William, sir, but your Uncle told me if you didn't answer I should come in and show you the projection on page 6."

"Why don't you have this job?" I asked her.

"What?" She looked like the question caught her off guard.

"When I go home - tomorrow probably - I want you to take over this position."

"But I haven't finished my degree yet!" I shrugged. She shook her head and clicked through my computer screens. "Personnel won't approve a promotion like that. Here."

"I'll tell my father. He'll come interview you. He'll do it. You're just the kind of women he likes."

"Excuse me?" She looked shocked and a little offended.

"Not like that. You remind me of Mazaki Anzu."

"The VP?" I nodded. "Oh." She smiled. "Thanks. I met her once. She's actually the one who encouraged me to get my degree. Well, she encouraged the whole department, but -"

"But yes, Aunt Anzu's like that. She's always encouraging people. Even those that don't deserve it."

"What?"

I shook my head. "So what did Uncle Mokuba send you to show me? Apart from my dismal failure to live up to the family name."

"That's a failure?" She looked stunned. "What did they expect -" she stopped suddenly. "Wait - you only looked at the dailies, didn't you?" I shrugged. "Ok. This line is actual sales as far as we have them. Then from here are projected sales if they follow the standard market deviation. This is ten percent over standard and this is ten percent under. And this green line is what your sales will be if they follow the current actual trend."

I looked at the charts. The lines stacked neatly with my projected sales well above the ten+ line. I leaned forward and really tried to understand what I was seeing. It looked like the sales had gone up a percent every other day, but the projection showed them increase exponentially; by the week before Christmas, the numbers should be closer to a thirty percent a day increase.

I scrolled back to the first sheet. The line was flat because the increments were single percents.

I hit my speed dial.

"You ok?" Uncle Mokuba asked as soon as he picked up.

"Why did you make up those projections?"

"I didn't make up shit, dude! Those are based on the orders that are already flooding in! The factory line's already bitching that there's no way they can meet demand and stick to your requirements."

"I don't want people thinking I make crap!" I snapped.

"Relax, Will. I told them to add another shift. I'll have another QCR sent out from each plant, and you can train them." He chuckled. "It's not like you were doing anything with your free time."

"It's not like you leave me with any free time, asshole."

He laughed warmly, and then switched to Japanese. "I wish I could congratulate you properly, nephew."

"I wish you loved me as you said you did, uncle." I growled in kind. "But you don't and I hate you for reminding me!" I tapped the button, disconnecting the phone before he could reply. I turned to the wall and tried desperately not to let the tears fall.

"Uh, Mr. Kaiba?" Gail sounded like she understood the exchange, if not the language. "Are you...do you need anything?"

A heart of stone, perhaps. "No."

"Oh. Ok." She stood there for another moment. "I'll just...I have...things."

"Fine. Yes. Thank you." I waved a vague dismissal.

I heard the door open, then after a long pause, close.

"Mr..." She touched my shoulder and instinctively, I yanked it away. "William. I know, once the QCR's get here, you won't have much time, but I thought, well, tonight some of us are getting together after work. Nothing special, really, Amy, Brett and me usually get together on Wednesday night because Harry's has half priced Hippos. It's really just a chance to bitch about the boss and the boyfriend and, you know..." Her voice petered out. "It was just...ok. I'm going back to my desk now." This time the door opened and closed immediately.

I could have called Uncle Mokuba and talked about how much that 'light hearted' comment tore my heart open again. I could have called Gail, thanked her for the effort to comfort me, and accepted the invitation to do something other than sulk.

What I did was email Father asking if I could come home on the first flight to Tokyo.

Fifteen minutes later, Gail buzzed me. "Mr. Kaiba, I have a Honda Hiroto on line one for you."

I banged my head against the desk. If Father was asking Uncle Hiro to call me, the family must think I'm practically suicidal! "Thank you, Gail." I responded. I took a deep breath, then picked up the receiver and picked up the call. "Hello Uncle Hiroto; how are you?"

"I'm fine, Anzu's fine, Hianko, the twins, and the dog are all fine. How are you - and if you say 'fine', just remember I've been doing this a lot longer than you have."

Uncle Hiro taught Sociology and Psychology at a bunch of different places and half the time could practically read minds. His favorite hobby was catching my fathers in 'bullshit'. Almost nobody could beat him at poker because he could always tell if you were bluffing.

"I'm not good at this office stuff." I said simply. "The reports are too complicated - they give me a headache. And I don't like everyone asking me what to do. It's not that hard - I already did the creating, they just need to re-produce what I made! Plus, I haven't had time to create anything new since I got here! I set up an easel here in the office, but people kept pestering me to see what I'm working on."

"So set one up...."

"In my hotel room, yes, obviously. The hotel bitched because I got paint on their heinous beige walls. I'm contemplating re-painting the entire room as a service to good taste." I sighed. "I just want to come home."

Uncle Hiro chuckled softly. "You sound frustrated, irritated and stressed."

"Really? How perceptive, Uncle."

He laughed openly. "Well, I had a little college so I can figure some of this stuff out." He settled down. "Seriously, Will, is it so unbearable that you really can't finish the project? How much is left?"

I sighed again and thought about it. The new quality control people needed to be trained and I didn't trust anyone else to do that. But most of the rest, Gail could take over now. We were only concerned about the Christmas sales; after that, the figurines would be rolled into the regular stock.

"A week if the new employees get here tomorrow. And if Gail can take over this desk."

"Ok. Talk to Mokuba about getting the new people in ASAP. Who's Gail and what does she need to take over?"

"She's my secretary, but she should be the department head. She actually understands all this stuff. She said she doesn't have a degree so they won't promote her, which is stupid! Her caste has nothing to do with her abilities."

Uncle Hiro was silent for a moment. "No, William. No one's caste has anything to do with their abilities. You're an artist, not an executive, and we are all very, very proud of you just as you are."

I wanted to speak, but found myself shaking and close to tears again.

"I'll tell Seto to call Gail. If she really is qualified, I'm sure he can fix whatever Personnel's problem is. And I'll call Mokuba about the new people. Why don't you go to an art gallery or something; get out of the office and go do something fun?"

Go to: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Jesse was actually the person who took the photo I used for Yvette's portrait. He spent the month of September with me in the Shenandoah Valley.

The family spent a few days exploring the area, and even in my emotional malaise, I was dazzled by the array of colors as the leaves turned from green to brown and a thousand colors in-between. Jesse took as many photos as I did, but with cheap disposable cameras until Papa gave him a new, top-of-the-line digital.

"If you're gonna try to keep up with Wolf, here, you at least need a fair chance!" Papa laughed and kissed my forehead. "You ok?" He asked me for the billionth time.

"I'm fine, Papa."

The weekend of the wedding, there was also a gun show in a nearby town and KaibaArms made a surprise appearance with Father, Uncle Mokuba and Aunt Yvette being temporary celebrities. Just to show off, they arranged an unscheduled target competition - Father won - and Jesse took the photo of Yvette that everyone raved over.

No one mention any of my photos of her because, apart from the photos where I couldn't avoid her, I hadn't taken any.

After that, Uncle and Aunt left for their honeymoon, and Jesse, Nobu, Ryuka, Valentine and I wandered over mountains and through caves. The rest of the family went home.

My brother and cousins went home when school started a week or so later. I was not in a rush to return to the factories and it would be another week before the first product batches would be ready for review.

Jesse stayed as well. "I'm not trying to go back in a rush; the band hasn't left for their tour yet. Besides, I like this photography thing. Maybe I could stay here and do this for a living."

"You do have a very good eye." I agreed.

He leered at me. "You got a good everything." His expression turned serious. "Look, uh, I know I said just one night, but..." He took a step closer to me. "Being around you, this much, for this long, it's kinda making me crazy, you know?" He kissed me softly. "I know you got more reserve than me, but..." He kissed me again. "...but it's just sex, right?"

* * *

The sun was setting. I turned on the lights in my studio. I hated painting in electric light - colors didn't look natural. I put the paints away and began cleaning my brushes. Anything more I did would have to wait for tomorrow.

Maybe tomorrow I could let go.

My phone rang again. The ring tone was an aria called 'Fire in Her Eyes'. Nobu had written it for Aunt Mai's birthday a few years ago and it quickly became my favorite piece by him. I tapped the speaker.

"What?"

"Everybody on the planet is here. Papa says get your butt up here if you want dinner." Nobu replied.

"I don't want dinner."

"The longer you mess with it, the more you're gonna mess it up." He pointed out. "You know that."

I sighed. He was right. I knew that.

"Are you gonna tell me the real deal, ever?"

"I'm an artist. We're temperamental."

"Wow. That's not even creative bullshit. No points for style."

I had to smile; it was a rather dumb thing to say to the boy who writes symphonies. "I'm in an artistically dark phase marked by irrational mood swings."

"Like 'Set once a month." He chuckled. "Ow!"

The phone changed hands. "Dad said if you don't come to dinner right now, he's going to come out there with a chain saw and cut the doors off." My sister laughed. "And Father said that if you're responsible for that much property damage, he's gonna ground you for a month."

"I'm not hungry!" I snapped. "I just need to finish this."

"You know, maybe it's not about food so much as people like to actually look at you once in a while!" 'Set snapped. "Stop being such a little bitch and come home!" She hung up.

Nobu was right. 'Set was right too. Everyone was right.

So why was it so hard to be right?

* * *

Gail was made Interim Manager for New Products the day after Father had time to interview her.

"Please understand, Ms. Herger, I am confident of your abilities. However, Personnel seems to think that promoting you to the position outright would be a breach of protocol. Therefore, we are giving you a six-month trial. If you succeed, as my son and I expect, the promotion will be made permanent. If not, we will advertise the position and you will be allowed to move back to the administrative department if you so choose."

"I understand, Mr. Kaiba!" She gushed, sniffing and wiping her eyes, but grinning nonetheless. "Thank you so much! I just... I promise; I'll do everything I can to live up to your faith in me."

"I'm sure you will." Father turned to me. "I will be leaving later this evening for Tokyo, but I will be visiting your Great Grandmother and paying my respects to your Great Grandfather first. I trust you will be ready to leave by 2pm?"

I was stunned. I was hoping to go home after Gail was promoted, but I didn't expect him to let me leave with him. "Home? Today?"

"Unless you have other plans."

I hugged him. I hugged him and tried not to cry. Sometimes my father was a cold-hearted bastard. And then there were times when I was so glad he adopted me, I couldn't breathe.

* * *

We took Grandmamma Wheeler and her nurse to dinner and on the way stopped at the cemetery to pay our respects to Grandpapa Wheeler. Grandmamma laid two wreaths.

"You didn't come when my son died." She accused Father.

"No." He said simply. "Nor would I allow Joey, Sera or Kawai to attend. Frankly, had I known he was here, I would not have come today."

"He was Joey's father." She whispered.

"He was the villain that harmed Joey so profoundly that the scars will always be part of him. I will never allow the Kaiba family to honor him."

But those emotional scars are part of Papa's dharma; part of what makes him the man Father loves. To deny Papa's trials was to deny his triumphs as well.

"I will." I said. I knelt in front of the headstone and kissed both names.

"William!" Father snapped. "Stop being foolish and get up! I will not tolerate..."

"Grandpa Wheeler is part of Papa's path to us, to me!" I yelled before he could ground me or worse. "Maybe he would not have wanted me if his life had been easier." I bowed my head to the ground. "I honor the man who made Papa who he is - just as I honored your father." Internally, I winced; I promised Uncle Moke I wouldn't tell Father about that particular field trip.

I expected Father to rain fire and brimstone on me. I was defying him publicly. He'd never struck me, but surely this would be the moment.

Instead, when I risked a glance over my shoulder, he was looking at me oddly. I couldn't tell if he was angry, amused, confused, dismayed or something else. Then he scowled at me. "Well, get on with it. Even for me, Masa will not hold a dinner reservation indefinitely."

* * *

On the plane - a private Kaiba jet in which he and I were virtually the only passengers - he finally spoke to me about it.

"Your philosophy is sound in theory; however, your underlying assumption is incorrect." I stared at him blankly trying to figure out what philosophy he meant. "Joey did not want you."

"Wha-?"

"At the gravesite. You said that perhaps Joey would not have wanted you if his life had been easier. But as a point of fact, it was not Joey who sought to bring you into our family. In fact, he opposed my adopting you quite strongly."

"W-what?"

The corner of Father's lip twitched. "He was afraid I would kill you inside of a week. He said a child that strong willed would push every button I have, and he swore that I didn't have the patience required to raise a child as outspoken and as opinionated as you."

"B-bu-bu...." I tried to make some kind of sense out of what he was saying. "But Auset...."

"Your sister was an entirely different matter. And, as she and I are in agreement on most issues, her personality is less abrasive. You, on the other hand, persist in being obstinate, tactless, obsessive, utterly driven to have your own way in anything we can actually convince you to do - and a completely intolerable wretch when we have forced you to do things against your will."

I didn't comment. Saying 'take's one to know one' would be childish. True, but childish.

"In short, you couldn't be more like me if I'd had you cloned from my own DNA." I fought not to smile, but Father saw it anyway. "Which I'm guessing is exactly what you were thinking. I wanted to adopt you the day Ryou introduced you to me. As I recall, you refused to serve my tea until I addressed Ryou as 'Bakura-sensei'."

I nodded. "You spoke to him most disrespectfully." I had wanted to pour the tea on him at the time. As far as I knew, he was merely an appallingly rude customer.

"You were eight years old and fearless. You defended Ryou even when he would not defend himself." Father smiled. "It was rather cute. Like one of those small dogs that bark at every threat." I could feel my cheeks burning as he chuckled at the memory. "It was quite a struggle to convince all of them that you would not frustrate me to death. Although, you have tried."

I looked down. "I have never deliberately tried to anger you, Father."

"No. You simply follow your own instincts regardless of what others do or say. My point to all this is that, you are correct. Joey's father helped to shape him just as Gozaburo had some influence on who I am now. Just as I would like to believe that I have helped shape you - in more positives ways, I'd hope."

"Of course!" I started, but he raised a hand to stop me.

"It's true that one of the things that strongly motivated me was the similarities between your background and my own." He sighed. "Perhaps those are the very things that so often divide us."

"I'm not a good son, I know, but..."

"William, you are nothing I expected in a child and everything I have ever wanted in a son. You are intelligent, innovative, talented; loyal to those you love, persuasive when you wish to be. You make me actually reconsider my own decisions on occasion. Frankly, between you and your siblings, I often reconsider my sanity. But never, never have I reconsidered wanting you.

"You were quite correct when you reminded me today. Who I am now is in large part due to the lifetime of struggles I have overcome. I do not wish Joey to come to his father's grave and relive the painful memories associated, but he should have the option to do so. Thank you for reminding me."

I wasn't sure how to react. Father was admitting that he was wrong, changing his mind, and apologizing to me. Either I was hallucinating or the plane was going to crash.

He smiled slightly and nodded. He called the steward to our cabin and ordered a bottle of sake. When it arrived, Father told the steward to relax for the rest of the flight, as we wouldn't need anything else.

"Now." He made himself comfortable, poured two cups, and handed me one. "We have fifteen more hours alone and you have not been entirely open about several personal issues. I know you managed to convince Mokuba to cover for you and this man -" I felt the blood run hot through my body as I realized where this conversation was going. "- and yes I know it's a man so do not bother denying it. You will tell me who your lover - or lovers - are, or I will find out for myself."

"I guess I'm surprised that you haven't already." I took a sip of the strong wine and prayed that I'd be able to keep my wits about me.

"I would have, but Pharaoh made me promise to allow you a bit of privacy."

"Oh."

"He was a member of the household staff." Father guessed. I coughed as I realized that how close to the truth he was. "Don't look shocked. One does not need to be Sherlock Holmes to realize that not all the time in your studio is spent artistically."

"Uh, yeah."

"Honestly, William, in this family it would be more shocking if you weren't sexually active. Your brother tied the family record for starting young at twelve. And Pharaoh didn't catch Auset until she was 16, but I suspect she was active before than." He paused. "We were worried about you. You seem to distance yourself physically and, well, I am not known for my affectionate nature. I tried. I tried to be more demonstrative."

"I'm not really touchy-feely." I shrugged. "That's more like Nobu."

Father nodded. "Yes. Thank the Gods for Joey and Pharaoh. The boy would have driven me quite to my wit's end had it not been for them." He sipped his wine. "But I was concerned, because you were so young when you were sexually abused, that you would pull away from everyone and never allow any kind of physical intimacy. Or, that you would indeed take after me and over-indulge."

"You?" All three of my fathers were not shy about their sexual relations, but Father had never struck me as any more randy than Papa or Dad.

He laughed almost sheepishly. "Before Joey and Pharaoh, I used sex as a tool. A drug of choice. I collected lovers like duel cards." It was the first I'd heard of it. "I gather you have been more," he smirked, "selective?"

"Uh, no. Just two." He gave me an inquiring look. I took a sip of my wine. "The first doesn't matter anymore. He got married." I took a breath. "The second was Jesse."

Father actually looked stunned. "Wheeler Jesse."

I had forgotten that he was actually family. "Uh - yes, sir."

"I see." He took another sip of wine. "All right. Tell me about him.

* * *

Another trait Jesse shared with Papa - they were both easy to talk to. I found myself sharing things with Jesse that I had never told anyone.

"Ok, I gotta ask." He started one night when we were in a motel room with one bed, no cable, and a decor that hadn't been updated in my lifetime. "You're Indian, right? I mean, originally." I nodded - my heritage was visibly obvious. "And you were adopted by a Japanese guy?"

"India is a popular tourist destination for many Asians." I pointed out. "And Agra is where the Taj Mahal is."

"It wasn't the 'where' that's been odd to me - it's the name!"

"The name?"

"Yeah! How'd you get a name like 'William'?" He chuckled. "Shouldn't it be 'Hadji' or 'Gandhi' or something? When Joey told me, I'd be flying in with 'William', I figured you'd look kind of British."

I shrugged. "It was the name I was using at the time. I was speaking to a man, an American named 'William' so I told him that my name was 'William' too. Ryou-Sensei overheard it, and called me that, and it was easier not to correct it."

"So what is your name - I mean, really?"

I shrugged again. "I don't have one."

"Huh?" Jesse looked at me confused. "How do you not have a name?"

"I just don't. In Agra, the other urchins called me 'boy' or 'you', but none of us really had names - unless we chose one for ourselves. Generally, I called myself whatever the tourist called himself. I often made more money that way."

"And all this time you never fixed it?"

"Fixed it? Why?"

"But -" he seemed at a loss for words. "I mean, don't you want your own name? I mean, your own, real name?"

I had. At one point, I had hoped that Father would re-name me. Kaiba Ichiro, I thought Kaiba First Son. If I were really his son, he would have named me 'Ichiro'. But he didn't, and I put such childish hopes away. "William is my name, now." I replied. "It's fine."

"Yeah, I guess." He snickered. "And at least they don't call you late for dinner, right?"

* * *

Father and I spoke. Frankly. The wine had the effect of making us both more open and freer in the quality and quantity of details we shared. Thankfully, I did manage not to reveal who my first lover - my first love, my only love - had been.

In truth, it quickly became apparent that Father was more interested in my mental health than in with whom I had experimented.

It was a useful conversation. I had not thought to analyze my relationships in light of my own history. It had been enough for me that the idea of sexual congress no longer made me cringe.

"But it's more far reaching than that." Father observed. He'd taken off his jacket and tie and was stretched out across the seats, looking up at the ceiling. "I first realized that something had changed at the party when Mokuba revealed those dragons you two hid from the rest of us. You were wearing the swimsuit that your sister purchased for you instead of the veritable pants you normally swim in."

It was the first time I'd worn the briefs; they were embarrassingly frank. But I wanted to wear something that caught Uncle's attention and they had been wonderfully effective. Still... "I didn't think anyone noticed."

He chuckled. "I dare say everyone noticed. If there had been anyone other than family there, I would have made you go change." He looked at me. "Have you determined if you prefer seme or uke?"

I nearly choked. It was the last question I expected from Father. Papa often asked things like that. Dad would warn you first. Father, however, almost never asked any question that couldn't be asked at dinner in a restaurant. The biggest difference, unfortunately, was that Father expected a direct answer to a direct question.

"Seme." I said when I'd stopped coughing enough to speak.

"Have you tried the uke position, in your recent encounters, as a consensual position?"

"No." Which surprised me as I considered it. "I hadn't even thought about it."

He nodded. "That may have been a contributing factor in your abuse; a natural seme being forced into the uke role. It would have been more damaging than if you were a natural uke or reversible."

I sipped my wine as I considered the idea. I couldn't resist asking, "Which are you?" Something I would not have even dreamed of asking before we took off.

He smiled. "Reversible. I have found that there are benefits - and pleasures - in both roles. You may wish to explore both yourself; if Jesse is anything like Joey, it could be quite entertaining."

"We aren't like that." I assured him again. "I'm not seeing anyone anymore."

* * *

I did go to dinner. I tried to be pleasant during the meal. Most of the extended family was there for the wedding. Everyone who wasn't there would be arriving in the morning.

Nobu stayed close to me most of the evening, taking Papa's role and asking me if I was ok far too often. Even at 17, he still seemed to be my child-like baby brother. I hated making him worry about me. I ruffled his hair - like I did when he was 10 - and told him I was fine. I doubt he believed me.

I let Uncle Gorou and Aunt Miko use my room, and went back out to my studio to sleep. I've done it on many occasions; but for the last year every time had been with Uncle Moke.

I turned on the work light and looked at the portrait. He looked away from me, happily, toward something I could not see from where I was. Was he happy with her? Was he thinking of me as he held her tonight?

Or was I, as in the portrait, simply not part of his picture?

* * *

I woke to sunlight and my phone playing the Imperial March from Star Wars. I yawned as I hit the button. "Yes, Father?"

"Security is bringing Jesse from the airport; he had the audacity to bring a 'guest' with him - someone named Diop Khadim. I can have either or both returned from whence they came if you'd like."

I stared at the phone for a moment. "Father -" I sighed. "Jesse and I are not together. Besides, he's Papa's cousin."

"I don't care who he is. If you don't want to see him, you don't have to."

"You are overreacting. I would like to see them both."

"Very well. Hold on; Pharaoh wishes to speak with you."

The phone switched hands. "Where is the painting you promised Bakura?" Dad demanded.

"It's not quite...."

"You gave him your word you'd have it done a week ago!"

"I know, Dad, but..."

"Don't! This is unacceptable, Will. I don't know what's gotten into you lately; you've never missed a deadline before. Is it finished?"

I looked at the painting. "Not quite."

"I don't care!" Dad snapped. "Get it up here now!"

"Yes, Dad."

"And you are grounded for the rest of the month. There is no excuse for this! Bakura has far too much to worry about as it is and you have rudely contributed to his stress."

For me, 'being grounded' meant no travel and, once I got back to the house, no use of my studio. I had an easel and supplies in my room so I wouldn't die, but it was going to be a boring couple of weeks. "Yes, Dad."

I let him yell. I suspected that Ryou-Sensei had one of his extremely rare stress explosions, and Uncle Ryuji had called and yelled at Dad about it. If that was the case, I was merely the first of many people who were going to get yelled at. I said 'yes, Dad' a dozen more times before he finally decided that I had been chastised sufficiently and let me hang up.

There really wasn't anything else I could do to the painting. There really wasn't anything else I could do about the wedding.

I needed to go back to the main house, deliver the painting, and change into a formal kimono for the service. I could attend the wedding in the shorts I slept in, but Dad would probably ground me for another month.

I looked at the painting again. Why was I so caught by him? Why was it so hard to let go?

"It's stunning." Uncle Mokuba said softly behind me. "Thank you." I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as he put his arms around my shoulders. He held me tightly.

After a few moments, I clutched his arm. I bowed my head as the tears began falling yet again.

"Nephew, I never meant to hurt you." He whispered. "If I had thought for one instant how hard this would be for you, I would never have..." He kissed the back of my neck softly. "You will never know how sorry I am that I hurt you."

I felt my knees giving out as I wept. If uncle hadn't been holding me, I would have collapsed.

We both sank to the floor. I curled into his arms, desperately - vainly - hoping I could hold him there forever. He rocked me softly and eventually I began to calm down some.

"This is winter, William. This is hard, and cold, and barren and I know you feel alone. But you're not. I promise you. I can't be your lover, but I will always love you. Nii-sama and Jou and Yami - they will always be here. And spring will come. Someone is going to get very, very lucky and find you, and keep you. And when that happens, I promise you I will hate his guts."

I wanted to laugh, but the remark just made me cry harder.

"And Nephew," he turned my face gently, made me look into his eyes. "There is nothing about you that is 'Dalit'. Yvette suggested something to me and I think she's right. You always act as though you were born low caste and you've been elevated by us above your karma. Not so. You were always high caste, just lost somehow. Lost, kidnapped, or orphaned or something. I'll bet if we did a DNA search, you'd turn out to be the long lost son of some Raja, the heir to some title."

"The son of a gravedigger." I sniffed.

"No. Absolutely not. Ryou said you caught his attention because you looked like a prince. He couldn't figure out why you were digging through the trash."

Even princes must eat. "I don't believe in fairy tales."

"Neither do I. If you want it William, we can do a search. We can find out, prince or pauper, where your history is."

I shrugged. I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"Think about it." He kissed my forehead and stroked my hair. "I have to go back to the house. You have to come, too. You have to let me go, nephew."

"I know." I said softly.

"Can you?"

It wasn't as if I had a choice. In a few hours, he was going to be married to her by two standards, and nothing I did would stop it. He and I both had an obligation to the family. He had to wed. I had to be happy for him.

"I am Kaiba." I said. Father said it often. For the first time I wondered - did he say it to impress others, or remind himself?

I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and stood up. "Tell Ryou-Sensei that I will bring the painting to the house as soon as I finish framing it."

Uncle Mokuba stood up too. "Ok. William..." He stopped and shook his head. He took a step toward me, but I stepped away.

"No. I can't - please don't. Not now."

His expression looked pained. "Of course." He nodded. "Of course." For a moment, he actually looked lost. "I'll see you shortly."

"Yes." I could feel my chest tightening and pushed the emotions back down. I turned back to the portrait. I had a frame already cut for it.

A moment later, my door closed. I wiped a tear, but kept working.

* * *

The service inside the Shrine was very small - Uncle Mokuba, Father, Yvette and her parents. The rest of the family and 600 guests waited outside with rice in little bags, baskets full of flower petals, and noisemakers.

It would have been bad form for me to stand at the back of the group so I stood with my siblings and cousins on the front line, ready to bombard the couple with traditional symbols of fertility and happiness.

Jesse and Khadim stood with us. Jesse grinned happily the entire day. Khadim grinned when he looked at Jesse, but frowned at me. After the couple exited to a hail of good will and the massive event began returning to the main house for the reception, I saw Jesse and Khadim talking furtively. Khadim's eyes caught mine for a moment and his frown darkened. Without looking away from me, he tilted Jesse's head back and kissed my distant cousin deeply. When they finished, Khadim turned and walked toward the house. Jesse looked like he couldn't walk.

I walked over to him. "I think your Senegalese has the wrong idea about me."

"Huh?" Jesse sighed and then seemed to wake up. "Oh, yeah."

"I'm surprised to see him here."

He laughed. "So am I, actually. But if I'm dreaming, don't wake me."

"I must; I am the ultimate kill joy." He laughed again. "So what happened?"

"When I got home, I went out with the first hottie I meet and we ran into Khadim and the band at the club."

"Ran into?" I doubted that. "Just by chance."

"Seriously! Anyway, I told the guy that my ex was there and he decided to get cute about it. You know, too much touching, dancing too close, stuff like that."

"Presumptuous."

"Yeah, but he was wicked hot." Jesse snickered. "Anyhow, Khadim's watching us and I can see he's getting kind pissed 'cause the whole band's trying to hold him back."

"He is rather large."

"Tell me about it." Jesse snickered again. "So, all of a sudden dude kisses me, right? Next thing I know, Khadim's dropping him like a bad habit!"

"He hit him!" I had to wonder where security was; I'd just as soon Khadim not hit me.

"Laid him out cold with one shot. Then he told me that if he ever caught me with another man again, he'd kill him!"

"If he's threatening you, I can have security -"

He laughed again. "No, no it's not like that! He was just jealous. We got put out of the club. We had this huge argument and I told him: he can fuck me, or he can fuck the band. And he picked me!" Jesse's grin returned, even brighter than before. "He broke up with the band. We're living together now."

"He quit the band for you?"

"No way! I mean, he stopped screwing around with them. He's still the bass player. But Stac - he's the drummer - Stac told me that Khadim was a total downer the whole time I was gone."

I smiled and nodded. "So he loves you after all." Maybe after a few months, Uncle will be a total downer and leave her for me.

"Yeah." He turned serious for a moment. "Hey, listen. Gay marriage is legal in my state now, so I was wondering if, next year, after the tour, maybe you'd come out and be my best man?"

"You trust him to go on tour?"

"Hell no!" His grin returned. "The band hired me as their photographer - I'm going with them!" Jesse's expression changed slightly as he looked over my shoulder. "Who IS that guy, anyway? Hey, you didn't find a new beau and not tell me, did you?"

I followed his gaze. A few yards away from us, a young man stood, watching us. He was wearing a formal kimono and a large necklace. I could not see the detail at that distance, but the size was enough. "Prince Niko." I shrugged and turned back to Jesse. "More formally known as His Imperial Highness Prince Nagahito of Akishino. He's fifth in line for the Imperial Throne."

"No shit?"

I chuckled. "No. He's also one of my patrons. I suspect he wants to see what's in my studio this week." I sighed. I had nothing to show him.

"Dude, I think he wants to see what's in your pants. He's been totally scooping you out all day."

"Niko? No. We practically grew up together. Perhaps he's watching you."

"Nah, Khadim saw him when we got here. He took one look at you, and told me to keep the hell away from you." My surprise must have shown because Jesse snickered. "I didn't tell him about us, he just knows my taste in men. Anyhow, he told me you were taken 'cause of that guy; he's got that look. He is kinda hot; you should totally jump on that."

I looked back at Niko. He was still watching us, but his body language had changed. Before he'd seemed calm, as always. Imperial. Now he appeared agitated. He suddenly seemed to realize that I was looking at him. He turned and hurried toward the main house.

"Yeah, he's got it for you bad!" Jesse crowed. "Wow! Millionaires and Princes! Man, I knew you were slumming when we hooked up, but I had no idea I was that far outta your league. Talk about gutter trash!"

I whirled on Jesse, grabbing him by the shoulders. I caught him completely off guard and he nearly choked on his own laughter. "Never say that!" I shouted at him.

"Huh?"

"You are not trash! You are a precious jewel and I will always treasure our time together!" Jesse was staring at me in shock so I took a breath and released him. "I am sorry. I don't like hearing you talk about yourself like that."

"Dude, relax! It's a joke. You always said you were 'low born', but I knew that was one of those ironic things. Even Khadim called you 'the Maharaja' when he saw you. I know I'm not trash, ok? I just meant you're way above -"

"NO!" I snapped. "I'm not. I do not even know where I was born. My earliest memories are of searching for food in the sewers. I was a prostitute until I was eight. Then," I had to laugh, "they tried to make me a geisha. I wasn't even good enough for that." I sank down and sat in the grass.

"Holy shit." Jesse sat beside me. "That has got to be the most messed up thing I have ever heard!"

We sat in silence. I wondered why I told him. I hadn't told anyone since I told Ryou-Sensei. I'd never even told my siblings. Something about Jesse made me feel safe telling him my deepest secrets. Of course, now that he knew what I was, he'd never associate with me again.

"Still." Jesse's voice surprised me. "You came up all aces, right? I mean, it sounds like you got dealt a pretty crappy hand, but it's not the cards, it's the player. And man, you won the pot!"

I looked at him for a moment. "You don't understand about karma."

He shrugged. "I kinda know. I just don't get it. I guess I'm too American. I think you make your own karma. I don't care how I was born I make my own way. Heck, your whole family's like that. I mean think about it; in West Virginia, we took a bunch of pictures. I got a job out of it, which is cool. But you got a book that's still on the best sellers list! I mean, you're like, this world famous artist! I looked you up in Wikipedia, dude. Plus, your last guy was a millionaire, right?" I nodded. "And the next one's a real live Prince! Dude, if karma says there's something wrong with that, fuck karma."

"I don't deserve it."

"Nobody deserves anything; you get what you earn. And if somebody fucked you when you were eight, dude, you earned a Prince. Hell, you earned a kingdom!"

I found myself nodding. I had paid the cost. I paid for my art with blood and sweat. I paid for my wealth with days without food and nights without shelter. I paid the cost to be 'Kaiba' as my Father had - with every moment of my life prior.

Was losing Mokuba paying the cost for finding someone else?

I looked up to find Jesse smiling at me. He never once thought of me as untouchable, unclean, Dalit. I glanced toward the house; someone would eventually come looking for us but they weren't in sight yet.

I leaned forward and kissed him. He responded sweetly, but I didn't hold him for long.

He was actually blushing when we parted. "Hey come on. I can't do that anymore, you know?" He said softly.

"I know." I tried to smile and found that I could. "I just wanted one last."

He smiled broadly. "Yeah. I don't think I'm gonna get another once you get a prince under you." He stood up. "This place is huge! You need a damn GPS just to find the house!"

"Yes, many of our guests do, actually." I agreed, standing and brushing the grass from my clothes. "I don't know if you're right about Niko - and you should be sure to call him 'Prince Nagahito' until he tells you otherwise - but I'll still wager he wants to see my latest project. Do you want to see my studio?"

"Hell yes! But I'll have to bring Khadim. He's probably having a fit leaving us alone this long."

I gestured in the direction we should go and we moved toward the main house. "Why did he allow you to be alone with me now?"

"I told him that if he really loved me, he'd trust me and back the hell off."

"So I'm not at risk for bodily harm?"

"Nah; even Khadim wouldn't hit that face."

I laughed. I laughed again when we arrived at the main house to find Khadim and Prince Niko waiting together, giving us identical suspicious glares.

The four of us went to the ballroom together. There was a buffet for lunch. Ryou-Sensei had moved all six of my wedding paintings into the ballroom, placing the two portraits behind the head table so that they seemed to be aiming at each other. Under the paintings, Uncle Mokuba held Aunt Yvette's hand as they talked and ate.

"They look good together, don't they?" Jesse observed.

I had to admit that they did. I watched as he kissed her hand. My heart still ached, but I didn't think I was going to cry.

A hand squeezed my shoulder gently. "I should pay my uncle's respects to your uncle." Prince Niko said. "But then I'd like to speak to you about a new commission."

"Hey yeah, Khadim," Jesse flashed a mischievous grin at me. "You haven't met the bride and groom yet. Come on, guys." I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard the Prince growl.

We spoke to the bride and groom. We spoke to my fathers. We spoke to my grandparents.

After nearly two hours of paying our respects to nearly the entire room, the four of us slipped out of the house, commandeered a golf cart, and went to my studio.

The sun had just dropped below the tree line. Dusk filled the space with a soft, warm light. I was surprised; I didn't feel like three strangers were infringing in my private space. I let them look at everything they wanted to see.

While they were looking at my glass sculptures, I picked up my sketchpad and began drawing them. Jesse said something and both Khadim and Niko laughed. They looked like friends.

Jesse was right; Niko was very attractive. His face was slender and delicate, but stopped before appearing feminine. His hair was waist long and almost always braided. The few times I had seen it loose, it fell in waves around his shoulders.

Which were wider than one might expect. Niko was very athletic; frequently, he'd dragged me to games when he didn't have another companion. He'd often tried to get me to join his team-of-the-month, but I had no interest in sports whatsoever and only participated with him at Dad's request.

But thanks to all that, I had seen Niko in some very un-imperial states - half-naked, sweating, disheveled...

My own arousal surprised me, but the mental image of Niko swimming when last I saw him was exactly what I'd imagine he'd look like right after sex. And the image was extremely enticing; enough so that I crossed my legs in hopes that my 'thoughts' weren't visible. I wondered if that thought was what motivated Niko to invite me to go swimming, and tennis, and soccer and the rest when I was the world's worst athlete. Did he just want to see me half-naked, sweating and disheveled?

"Dude?" Jesse punched my shoulder.

"Ow!" It didn't actually hurt, but it did dispel my reverie. I rubbed my arm. "What?"

"You kind of zoned out for a while!" He laughed. "Me and Khadim are gonna take off. You want us to send someone back with the cart?"

"Oh. No. I can walk." I glanced at Niko and remembered that we were both still wearing formal attire. "Or I can call someone when we're ready to leave."

"Cool." Jesse hugged me - which was a surprise - and whispered. "He wants you bad, Will. If you don't jump him, he's gonna burst!" He let me go before I could reply and took Khadim's hand. "Come on, sexy. Cousin Joey said we could use the bedroom with the soundproofing."

Khadim paused, then grinned lewdly at Jesse. "Excellent." He looked at Niko and bowed appropriately. "It was an honor to meet you, Sir." Then Khadim turned to me, frowned, and put his arm around Jesse as they left.

I found myself chuckling.

"Finally!" Niko burst. "I thought they would never leave!"

"Forgive me, Sir; I didn't realize it was a private commission."

"It's not." He said quickly. "Not really. I want to paint a set of portraits. I was hoping you would teach me."

"Teach you to paint?"

"Yes."

"Portraits are not easy. Or quick. I wouldn't mind doing them for you."

"My uncle, the Emperor, wants me to take up a more sedate, less injury-prone hobby. I want to paint his and the Empress' portraits to show I'm taking his request seriously."

"Oh." I thought about it. At an art school, he'd get more formal instruction, but he'd also be more exposed if he had no skill.

Or was this just a ploy to spend more time with me?

The idea sent a warm rush through my body. Uncle Mokuba and I had spent a great deal of time in my studio. Niko was asking to spend even more.

"William-sama." Niko called my name softly, looked at me imploringly. "Please?"

"Of course, Niko-sama. I'd be happy to teach you. If you want, we can start now."

Niko smiled at me. I found myself smiling back.

Go to: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

I couldn't breathe.

I felt like the air itself was closing in around me.

"It's a mistake." I whispered.

"No, it's supposed to hang loose like that." My brother answered happily.

"I can't breathe!" I could feel myself beginning to panic.

"What a drama queen!" My sister scoffed. "You can breathe just fine."

"It's not the clothes!" I snapped back. "This is a mistake. I have to stop this. Before it's too late."

Auset looked at her watch as Nobu shook his head. "Thirty-eight minutes. Wow, Nobu; what did you do - rent a T.A.R.D.I.S., go to the future, and time it?"

Nobu laughed. "Nah. Papa and I both figured he'd crack at about the half hour mark. I just gave my bet a couple minutes lead-time. How big is the pool anyway?"

"It's only a ¥10 anti. Last I checked, it was at ¥500." She chuckled.

And this from those who allegedly love me. "Thank you all so much for caring. If you all knew this was a mistake from the start, why didn't someone stop me, damn it?"

"Oh my god, William, get a grip!" Auset rolled her eyes. "You're getting married, not entering a shadow duel!"

* * *

"William-sama, may I come in?" Niko stood in the doorway of my studio, looking lovely and formal.

As beautiful as my lover was, however, any request that started with the Prince calling me 'sama' was one he knew I would say 'no' to. Although far too often he'd charmed, bribed or seduced a 'yes' from me.

I put my brush in the water jar, and took a submissive position on the floor. "You honor me with your visit, your highness." Two can play this game.

Niko came in and took the same position in front of me. "I'm being serious, William. I need to ask you something."

"No." I answered preemptively.

"It's important." Niko frowned.

"It's still no."

He sighed. "I want to know how you feel about me." I had to smirk. I had literally an entire gallery of work dedicated to him. In the ten years it had taken to fill it, it had become known as the most romantic gallery in Japan and was on the top one hundred places to propose marriage. "I want to hear you say it."

I smiled. Every so often, he seemed to need more assurance that I did. "Prince Nagahito of Akishino, I adore you. You are my light and my inspiration. If you had not opened my eyes, I would never have learned to see."

"Do you love me?"

"Deeply. Hopelessly. Truly."

"If you could, would you marry me?"

We had discussed a commitment service much like my parents. They had a modified Shinto wedding one spring. It wasn't legally binding in Japan, but it had been very public and had sparked a trend of gay marriages in Tokyo. Niko was all for such a ceremony. I, on the other hand, was very aware that Niko - however much he wished to distance himself - was now third in line for the Imperial Throne of Japan. It was extremely unlikely that Niko would ever become Emperor, but if he did, one of his specific duties would be to have an heir of the body. And an Empress. I did not intend to put myself through that kind of emotional hell. When Family Honor called Niko, I would let him go; no strings attached.

"A real marriage." Niko went on before I could answer. "One that was legally binding in Japan. The first same sex marriage in Our history."

"How...?"

"Minister Kaiba has introduced legislation to the Diet. It would allow any citizen over the age of 20 to marry any other citizen without regard to gender, status or race. It would also outlaw arranged marriages where the couple does not consent."

'Minister Kaiba'? Niko was being extremely formal not to refer to my father as 'Uncle Seto'. "Father has tried that before." Had tried it, in fact, every year since he'd left KaibaCorp to become the Minister of Education, Culture and Technology.

"Yes, but this year, he has the support of the Prime Minister. And my uncle."

Niko's Uncle. The Emperor.

"But my uncle's support comes with a caveat. He wants this to be seen as a way to continue Japanese families into the new millennia and not just another way to cater to your father's whims."

"So this is a political decision." That would make sense.

"Only by them." Niko smiled softly. "Uncle wants a statement; Kaiba wants a tie with the Imperial family. I just want you."

* * *

The kimono was an ugly black and grey thing made of silk. I remembered thinking that it had been elegant when Father wore it to his ceremony with Dad and Papa. But wearing it myself now, I felt drab and foolish.

It was a relatively new tradition in the Kaiba Family. Valentine had started it when she wore her mother's wedding dress to marry Pegasus Maxi. And Hianko wore her mother's when she married a South Korean construction magnate. Then, when Nobu married a German viola player, he wore Dad's kimono. And Auset followed later the same year when she wore Papa's for her commitment service.

And now I stood mocking my family's tradition, my culture's history, my own beliefs just to make a political statement with a man who could no more 'love' me than he could love a dog he'd found in the streets.

"William, if you are going to be sick, go to the bathroom." Father commented, rather nonchalantly. "Down the hall, first door on the left."

"I'm not going to be sick." I wasn't sure if that assured either of us.

Father turned the page of his newspaper. "Really? I'm impressed. I couldn't keep anything down for a full day before the service. That morning, I still had dry heaves."

I stared at the man. "It wasn't legally binding and the three of you'd been together almost twenty years. Did you have the flu?"

He laughed. "No, just still incapable of making an actual lifelong promise to Pharaoh or Joey. My life won't be long enough." He put the newspaper down. "You, however, are about to be contractually obligated to this man 'for as long as ye both shall live'. And I remind you that divorcing a member of the Imperial family - while never easy - would be particularly difficult in this case."

"If your intention is to bolster my courage, you are failing."

"My intention is to remind you that it is not too late to catch the 2:30 flight to New Orleans."

I glanced at my watch. He was right; if I left in the next twenty minutes, I'd even have time for coffee. It was an appealing thought.

"Why New Orleans?" I finally asked.

"It's where I went. The first time I ran from them. KL3 was under construction, and it seemed like a good place to hide and wallow in sin." He smiled. "Perhaps not your first choice of escapes, but I'm sure you can find something to entertain yourself."

"You ran?"

"Like a thief in the night."

"You never let us run. You used to drag us in front of the firing squad."

"Of course. Running is the coward's way of resolution." He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and placed it on the coffee table. A plane ticket. Then he opened his paper again. "If you go to KaibaLand, say hi to Devlin for me. And anything he or Taylor tell you about me is pure fabrication."

* * *

There were a suspiciously large number of people in the living room when Niko and I left my studio and arrived at the main house.

"Well?" Papa demanded. He had Auset's two-year-old twins Mana and Mahad in his arms.

Dad and Uncle Yugi were on the floor dueling with Solomon Jr. (Valentine's son) and Wilma (Uncle Mokuba's) daughter. Nobu was reading - which was a joke since there was a piano in the room.

"Are we having a family reunion?" I asked.

"Come on, Wolf; you know I'm dying here." Papa never minced words. "Yes or no?"

"Yes." Niko answered for me.

"No!" I glared at him. "This isn't settled yet."

"But you said you'd discuss it." He grinned back. He'd been grinning non-stop since I said it. "It's a qualified yes, but it's a yes."

"Good enough for me!" Papa was also grinning now. "You hear that, Tak?"

"I heard." Father's voice came in over a speaker.

"We all did!" Aunt Anzu added. "Congratulations, boys. We'll land soon, and celebrate, ok?"

It wasn't actually a question. "Yes, Auntie!" Niko laughed and wrapped his arms around my waist. "We will tentatively celebrate my qualified yes."

"I'm curious," I gave Niko a sideways look. "Am I the absolute last person on the planet you consulted about this?"

"Pretty much." My brother laughed. He moved to the piano and began playing 'Here Comes the Bride'. "Will it be a traditional service, western or one of each?"

"Traditional." Niko said. "Held at the palace."

"No." I corrected that quickly. "Here, at the Shrine." All my family's weddings and commitments were held at the Kaiba Shrine. In the secret moments I'd allowed myself to even dream of marrying Niko, our first wedded kiss was always on the moon bridge leading to the Shrine's entrance. "It must be here."

Niko shook his head. "William, the entire Imperial family will be in attendance. It has to be at the palace."

"That 'thing' at the palace is a gaudy, tacky pseudo-temple and I wouldn't be caught dead in it!" I snapped.

That 'thing' was also the Temple of the Sun God and one of the most revered places in the country.

"And the drama begins." Auset sighed behind me. "I suppose it was too much to ask for you to just be happy for once."

* * *

"Don't even look at that exit." Papa snapped.

"I wasn't." I sighed, looking back at the floor.

Ten minutes. In ten minutes, Papa, Dad, Father and Genji would escort me into that ridiculous room, where that ridiculous man masquerading as a priest would pretend to bless the joining of two men who clearly didn't belong together.

It had taken me years to believe that Niko loved me. That it was ok for me to love him. It took mere days for that belief to crumble under the weight of the Empire.

The Press adored us; the Emperor's wild nephew finally tamed, the mysterious Son of Kaiba. We'd made the Most Beautiful Couple list. We had women offering to be the mother of our eventual child.

They didn't need to offer. Niko resolved that too.

Genji was Niko's youngest brother, born by their father's mistress - four months after his father's death. Niko was named the boy's father by Imperial decree after my prince literally camped in the throne room.

Nearly everything Niko and I did together involved Genji. He even had his own desk in my studio. He was like a son to me. In ten minutes, he would become my son.

"What," I asked no one in particular, "if I am not good enough for this?"

"Then you will fail." Dad replied simply. "But I have already consulted the Gods and they are not thrilled, but they will accept Niko if he is your heart's desire."

"Not thrilled?" Papa smirked.

"No. Niko is not fated to be Emperor. But they will content themselves with William's grandson."

Grandson? I looked at Dad, but he merely gave me an enigmatic smile. It made me crazy when he said such things; I could never tell if he was serious.

"Dad? Where's Papa?" Genji's voice sounded very small in the temple anti-chamber.

I opened my arms and the boy came to me. How pathetic was I to take comfort from a child? "Papa is in a room like this, on the other side of that door. In a few minutes, we will go in and see him."

"And then you become my real Mama?"

"Well, uh...sort of." My face burned. Auset and Nobu had convinced the child that if Niko and I got married, I'd magically become his mother. "Legally, Genji, not magically."

"To-may-toe, to-maa-toe." Papa said.

"Papa!" I glared, but he chuckled anyway.

"Niko and William will be your parents, Genji." Dad said. "What you call them is up to you."

"Yay!" Genji cheered. "Can we go in now?"

"No." I took a breath. "We have to wait for the...."

There was the deep distant sound of a gong.

"Ask not for whom the bell tolls." Father said, finally folding his newspaper.

"Come on, Wolf." Papa offered me his hand. "Time to dance."

* * *

"You are unhappy." It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

We were in Niko's private residence in Kokyo - the Tokyo Imperial Palace. I had been there often as a guest. It was my first night as a resident.

"How could I not be happy?" I replied. Niko had unbound his hair. It flowed over his shoulders like silk. How could anyone look at such beauty and be unhappy?

"I don't know. Are you still upset that we could not use the Kaiba Shrine?"

"No." I wasn't that petty.

"Then what? Tell me so I can fix it for you."

I couldn't help frowning. "You don't need to fix things for me."

"But I want to. I want your life to be perfect."

"I hardly deserve perfection."

"But I want to give it to you." He kissed me. "Tell me what's wrong. Please?"

I smiled at him. I couldn't help it. Whatever doubts and fears I had, Niko's kiss seemed to make them vanish. "You are here. Therefore, all is right with the world."

"Did you know that when you lie, you get little lines right here, between your eyebrows." He stroked my forehead. "It's almost cute." He kissed me again, and then sat in my lap. "Tell me."

I sighed deeply. "How long does this last?"

"What?"

"Us. This marriage thing. How long before you find someone better or -"

He kissed me, cutting me off mid-word. "Do you think that I would have badgered the Emperor until he threatened to banish me if I thought there might be someone 'better' out there?" He laughed at my expression. "I wanted to marry you when I was 12! William, there is no one better. There is no one else. I don't care if you are a commoner or nobility. Indian, Japanese, hell, I'd adore you if you were American!"

"But, you don't know-"

"I don't want to. Security has a surveillance file. I told them that unless you were plotting an assignation, I didn't want to see it. Everything I know about you, I learned from you."

I felt a bit guilty about that. "I haven't told you much."

He smiled. "There is only one thing I want to know. Do you love me?"

I had to smile in return. Maybe I didn't have to be sure. Maybe my past didn't matter.

"Prince Nagahito of Akishino, I adore you. Deeply. Hopelessly. Truly."

Go to: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

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