Chapter 1

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.

Chapter 2 »