Welcome, one and all, to a most momentous occasion.

... Yeah, I know. Another one. Shocking, right?

Here's the thing, y'all. I've been working with the Kaiba brothers for almost two decades now. Seto and Mokuba remain the foremost of my inspirations when it comes to just about anything I write. This is particularly true when it comes to my Yu-Gi-Oh! fanfiction. But recently, I've tried to expand upon that two-factor dynamic. The brothers are great, but there's more to them than just each other. Isn't there?

I've expanded on the Kaiba Estate staff, their friends and confidants from the orphanage, old friends, older enemies.

But ... what about the catalyst for everything that made them who they are in the story we all know and love?

What about the Original Kaiba Family™?

That is what this tale will hope to address. Don't get me wrong, Seto and Mokuba will be here. But they will only be two cogs in the machine this time.

You'll see what I mean.

Let's get started.

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"Thank you for coming so promptly. Tell me—do you remember that military hospital in Hanover?"

Ishmael Faraji would never be known for being especially tactful—four failed marriages and six estranged children could attest to that—but he doubted he would ever quite manage the mastery of outright rudeness in the pursuit of brutal efficiency the way that Gozaburo Kaiba had. The man wasn't even looking in his old friend's direction; rather, he was rubbing his thick-set, iron-wrought chin with one hand, staring out the window to his right as though something Biblical were occurring on his front lawn.

His left hand held a fountain pen, and with it he was making swift strokes on a legal pad sitting dead-center on his oak desk.

Faraji cleared his throat, scratched at his beard, and chuckled. "Surreal enough to see you zipped up in a suit like that, Gozie. Now you've gone and shaved? That mustache made you look like a commander. Now you look like a . . . ah. Ahem."

Black eyes like gemstones from the devil's throne finally made contact, and Faraji found himself thoroughly flummoxed. Those eyes knew too much. They had always known too much. But there was something else, something hidden, that was new.

And with a Kaiba . . . new was never good.

"Sorry," Faraji muttered. "Y-Yes. Of course I remember." He offered a grin. "Hell of a ride, that was. I don't know what we'd've done if it weren't for that Afghani kid with that gold ke—"

"He wasn't . . . from Afghanistan. And he certainly wasn't a kid."

"Right, right." They'd been over the fine details of that night before. "Sorry."

Kaiba straightened his jet-black tie, and heaved a sigh. "I wouldn't have made it out of that building. A long box and a short speech. That would have—should have been the final fate of my legacy . . . if not for you."

Faraji smirked. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his fatigues. There was only one chair in this office, and it was occupied; he would have to make do with shifting his weight from foot to foot to assuage the sudden apprehension that was invading every fiber of him. "Nature of the brotherhood, Gozie. We went into that mission together? We made it out together."

"Indeed." Kaiba stood up. It wasn't just his tie that was black. The man looked like he was in mourning. His slacks, shoes, vest, jacket, even the long overcoat he plucked from a rack in the corner was woven from liquid midnight. He took out a stainless, three-finger cigar case from an inside pocket; from another pocket, a double guillotine cutter.

Kaiba offered one of the cigars to Faraji, who made a dismissive wave. "Quit last month," he said.

As Kaiba went about that old, sacred ritual, he continued to speak. "You may have noticed that my wife was unable to greet you. Amaya is . . . indisposed at the moment. Have you heard?" Something ran up Faraji's spine. "Yesterday morning, my boy was nearly run down in the street. If not for the slimmest stroke of luck, I would be planning a funeral right now."

Faraji licked at his lips. "I . . . saw something in the paper, but I didn't know it was so close."

"Close," Kaiba repeated, as though checking how the word tasted, mixed with tobacco smoke. "Yes. Close. Close enough, in fact, that I have been drawn into my memories quite often over the past twenty-four hours." That explained the dark patches under Kaiba's eyes; he probably hadn't slept since the accident.

While a clean-shaven face made this mercenary-turned-overlord look decidedly younger than Faraji could remember ever seeing him . . . those eyes almost made up the difference.

"Is that . . . why you called me?" Faraji asked tentatively. "To catch up?"

"Something like that." Kaiba donned his overcoat. "Another question for you. Do you remember the day I named you Noa's godfather?"

Silence invaded the room.

". . . Y-Yeah. Sure, Gozie. Of course. Proudest moment of my life. I remember how much you and the little lady wanted a baby. Took a lot longer than any of us would've thought. But worth it, right? Kid's gonna make one hell of a man. He'll be the pride of your family. I'm sure of it." Faraji tapped his temple. "I've got an eye for that sort of thing."

"Mm." Kaiba took the cigar from his mouth and watched as smoke swirled into the room like an incorporeal dragon. "Do you recall the promise . . . you made to me? That day?"

"Of course. I said . . . I said nothing would happen to little Noa, so long as I'm still around."

"Well, I intend to . . . hold you to that." Kaiba frowned. "You see, I have reason to believe that this accident which nearly claimed my son's life . . . was fully intentional." He plucked up the legal pad and showed it to Faraji.

There were four symbols scratched into the center of the page.

海馬乃亜

"Do you know what this is?" Kaiba asked.

Faraji squinted. ". . . Bit rusty, but I recognize the first two. I'm guessing that's your boy's name."

"Correct." Kaiba ripped the page from the pad, and held it up in front of him. "My boy's name. The name that will carry my blood into the future. The name to which Amaya and I have pinned every hope we've ever had."

Another pregnant pause.

Kaiba pushed the lit end of his smoke against the paper, and watched it burn.

". . . Of course," Faraji said. Because what else was there to say?

"Someone tried to destroy those hopes. To cut down my legacy. Noa has yet to see his first decade, and someone decided that his life was over. I trust you understand what it means, for me to tell you this."

"S-Sure. You want me to . . . find out who did it."

Kaiba smirked. Chuckled. Crumpled up the ruined sheet of paper and tossed it aside. "Something like that."

"Well, you can count on me, Gozie! I won't sleep 'til I found out who's behind this!"

The smirk widened.

Kaiba held out a hand. "I thank you. Raj." Faraji tried to remember the last time someone had called him that, and allowed a grin onto his face again. He took the offered hand, shook it. "You've said everything I hoped you would say . . ."

The blade flashed into Kaiba's free hand too quickly for even Faraji's well-trained eyes to catch. And before he realized what had happened, a razor's edge of cold steel slammed into his throat.

Ishmael Faraji crumpled, dead and silent. Without another word. Without another thought.

Gozaburo Kaiba sighed, clamped his cigar between his teeth again, and checked his watch.

". . . Except, of course, the truth."

.

I don't subscribe to the idea that Gozaburo Kaiba is evil. We could have a good, old-fashioned square dance on whether or not he's sociopathic, but evil? That's a bit cheap for me. I think he's underdeveloped, I think we don't see enough of him. I think a lot might have changed about the way he conducted himself in the anime, if only that little boy with the seafoam hair had survived.

So I asked myself: how? What, precisely, would be different about Gozaburo's story, if Noa had lived? And how would that affect the other people in his family? His wife, Noa's mother? Noa himself? Those two little boys from a rundown orphanage?

Instead of just theorizing and postulating, I figured I would just pack up and hit the road to find out.

I do hope you will join me.

Regardless of anything else the journey might be ... it won't be boring.