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When the alarms began to sound in his office and his secretary leaned in the doorway to alert him that there’d been some sort of large explosion down in Research and Development, Seto Kaiba figured that he couldn’t, realistically, be too surprised. After all, one of the projects currently in development was essentially a giant laser cannon with the energetic capacity to be used as a continental missile. It was the unpleasant reality of demilitarizing a company that had previously been single-mindedly focused on building IBMs and WMDs that some aspects of engineering were hard to stomp out without firing the old team en masse. Though they’d been building games, not bombs, for the past decade, old habits died hard, and the proud tradition of hologram projectors looking like death lasers continued. He punched the number for R&D on his phone, but it didn’t ring, just produced a steady and unsettling dial tone.
Kaiba jerked his coat from the back of his chair and pulled it on. “Try the phones,” he ordered his secretary, “Not R&D, theirs is down. Any other office on the bottom floors, anyone who might have eyes on the situation.”
His secretary leapt into action with the direction and professionalism befitting a Kaiba Corp. employee. Kaiba himself sat back down at his desk and pulled up the security cameras, starting with the unsurprisingly-destroyed R&D ones and moving outwards, trying to find any feed that would give him insight into the situation. From some hallways, he could see security rushing towards the scene, but mostly all he saw was smoke.
“The fire department has been dispatched,” his secretary called into his office, “They-,”. Her voice cut off abruptly, and Kaiba could hear heavy footfalls coming up the hallway. “Excuse me, this is-,”
“Step aside.”
Kaiba looked up. His secretary was standing in the doorway, facing away from Kaiba. Staring her down from the other side was a severe-looking man, flanked by another severe-looking man and a young woman. They were all dressed in dark navy and heavily armed. The woman gently brushed Seto’s secretary aside as they strode into the room.
“Kaiba Seto,” the first man greeted, bowing, “I am Shimada Hanzo. Forgive our intrusion, but the matter of the explosion is in the capable hands of Overwatch. Please tell your men to evacuate the area immediately.” The man then opened his hands, revealing a silver and orange metal insignia.
Overwatch. Seto had heard of them, everyone had. He’d seen them on the news a handful of times. He’d learned about the Omnic Crisis in school. Overwatch existed, yes, but only in stories, in history, in places like the United States and Germany and Russia. Why were they here, dealing with his mess?
“Evacuate the building,” Kaiba said haltingly, nodding to his secretary.
“Thank you.” Hanzo bowed again. “You can put your faith in us.”
The team turned to leave, but Kaiba stopped them. “I’m in charge here. I’m coming, too.”
Hanzo turned, frowning at him. “It isn’t safe for civilians.”
“You’ll need my clearances to get down there.” Seto reasoned, biting back the urge to scoff. “And I’m hardly a civilian.” Overwatch or not, this was his building, and he wasn’t going to just sit outside and wait for them to deal with his problems.
Hanzo held out his hand. “Give us your access pass. You cannot come along.”
Seto rolled his eyes. “Is this 2010?” He held up his hand. “I have to come along, unless you’d rather cut my hand off for my fingerprints?”
Hanzo exchanged glances with the other man and the girl. “Drop your security measures. Deactivate the locks.”
“And give whoever’s attacking free-range of the building?” Kaiba scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh.” Seto kicked open the bottom drawer of his desk and withdrew the pistol he kept there. “You’re only wasting time by arguing. I can handle myself. Come on.” Seto strode past them and out the door, satisfied to hear their footfalls after only the briefest moment of hesitation.
Hanzo caught up with his strides. He was now holding a rather fierce-looking bow in one hand, a single arrow in the other. The arrow was entirely metal and was emitting a faint buzzing noise. “We understand your building was targeted because of what you are designing in your laboratories.”
Kaiba snorted, saying nothing. It was the new Solid Vision tech the bad guys were probably after, still incredibly experimental and in its fledgling stages, but they’d begun some preliminary tests, and the results had been promising. Kaiba Corp. was poised to take the world into the next stage of dueling: solid projections. Holograms were serviceable for their purpose, but Solid Vision would up the ante in a way the market was undoubtedly unprepared for. Kaiba would destroy his competition so thoroughly with this new tech, they wouldn’t even be in the same market anymore. To put it simply, they’d come a long way from playing cards on a paper battlefield.
Hanzo seemed undisturbed by Kaiba’s silence. “The terrorist organization known as Talon believes they can use your technology to fulfill some malicious purpose.”
If the terrorists actually had the resources and knowledge to accomplish this, he would hire them on the spot. He wouldn’t even be that mad about them blowing up his building! Unsurprisingly, the largest challenge in the development of Solid Vision was in fact to get the holograms to be fully solid enough to interact with the physical world. “They would have been better served attacking my labs next year, then, if that’s their goal,” he said.
“They have an expert cryptologist with them. Knowing her, it is not so strange she would have a plan for your technology.”
Kaiba snorted again. “Did she bring a resume?”
They reached the stairwell and made their way down to R&D, where Kaiba used his handprint to unlock the door. He was unsurprisingly protective of his intellectual property and spared no expense in ensuring his secrets stayed behind locked doors. People with clearances to the R&D department were heavily vetted, and the design team members themselves signed all manner of waivers and contracts which, essentially, amounted to giving Kaiba Corp. full license to sue them into oblivion if they put so much as a toe out of line.
The labs were a disaster. Hanzo handed Kaiba a pair of goggles that blocked the smoke and filtered the light. The woman went on ahead, or at least Kaiba suspected so. One moment she was standing there, the next she was gone. It was hard to tell in the smoke. The other man was wearing goggles that glowed a bright red, and he signaled something to Hanzo before he, too, disappeared, leaving them alone together.
Kaiba ducked into one of the software development labs and muffled a gasp when he saw the bodies. Three employees were slumped over their keyboards with bullet holes in their necks. Hanzo put a steadying hand on Kaiba’s shoulder. “Shotgun blasts. 76, Tracer, watch out for Reaper.” He was speaking into some sort of com, he had to be. Those words meant nothing to Kaiba. He reached out with a shaking hand, then, as if he’d been stung, clutched it to his chest. He listened for a second to the rushing of blood in his ears, to the ringing of tinnitus that had suddenly become too loud, and watched as the puddle of blood on the floor became steadily larger.
“We have to move,” Hanzo said, giving Kaiba’s shoulder a squeeze, “Come quickly.”
Kaiba pulled himself together as best he could, taking a moment to check his gun’s safety and switch it off. He followed Hanzo down the hallway, walking with deliberate slowness, and watched as he notched the arrow to his bow. He drew, aiming seemingly at nothing, and fired. The arrow lodged in the far wall with a blunt noise, and then everything became louder yet quieter at the same time. Kaiba could hear footsteps more distinctly now, could tell how many people were moving beyond the walls. There were two people advancing steadily on a lone figure from behind. Hanzo seemed to know who was who. “Tracer, look out!” he yelled into his com.
Gunfire erupted as the heightened hearing faded and Hanzo threw himself through a doorway, barreling in the direction of the chaos. Kaiba hesitated for a split second before following, thinking of his designers as he ran with his gun at his side, both hands clasped around it. He heard Hanzo up ahead calling “76, run towards your nine,” into his com even though he was pretty sure the man called 76 could probably hear the sounds of the gunfire and likely knew which way to go.
Kaiba stopped just short of the doorway. The fight was impossibly loud up close. He couldn’t help it: he was too afraid to join Hanzo. He didn’t actually know how to be in a firefight. His gun was for self-defense, mostly as a scare tactic. He knew how to fire it, of course, but in a group full of people who were also firing guns? People who were good at it, did it for a living? People who shot to kill? His hands trembled as he stood, back against the wall, and considered his position.
In the end, Kaiba could only muster up the bravery to look through the doorway, but that’s when he saw Hanzo summon Blue Eyes. Honest to god, Shimada Hanzo of Overwatch, bow drawn and fingers hovering in the air by his ear, had just let loose an arrow, and the Blue Eyes White Dragon had erupted from it. He watched as the dragon flew through the air and engulfed a figure in a black cloak. The woman who’d been with them ran through the projection of the dragon and also leaped at the figure, but Kaiba couldn’t see to what effect because of all the smoke and ash in the air. His vision became spotted with white dots, and he slid to the floor heavily.
The next thing he became aware of, he was being dragged to his feet. Someone put his arm over their shoulders, wrapped their arm around his torso, and was dragging Kaiba through the halls. He went along mutely, vision still too clouded by smoke and dotted with lights to refuse the help. It wasn’t until he was dragged out of the building and towards a waiting ambulance that he forced himself to his senses, planting his feet firmly in the ground. “I’m fine.”
The person supporting him stopped with him. “I know you are.” It was an unconvincing lie.
“Take me to my office,” Kaiba ordered.
“No.”
Kaiba shook his head and looked at his would-be rescuer. It was Hanzo, and from this close, Kaiba could see a dull, silver stud peeking out from the skin of his nose. He fixed his eyes on it as he spoke. “If you know I’m fine, then take me back to my office.”
“You are fine. Your building is not. Your people are being evacuated,” Hanzo said, “The explosion happened near the foundations. We can’t be sure there won’t be more explosions until a sweep has been done.”
“My building isn’t safe?”
“Talon could have planted more bombs.”
Hanzo got Kaiba’s feet moving again, mostly because the shock made him forget to continue protesting. He was transferred into the arms of a paramedic, and the last thing Kaiba saw of Shimada Hanzo was the bobbing of his ponytail as he disappeared into the crowd.
That is, until several days later, when the very same Shimada Hanzo returned to Kaiba Corp. by Seto’s own personal request. The building sweep had been completed the previous day, and most everyone had returned to work shaken but whole. It was just around four in the afternoon, and most of the employees were on their way out for the day. Kaiba’s secretary paged him to say Hanzo had arrived, and then there he was, standing in front of Kaiba’s desk looking perfectly composed, like he had no idea at all what this could be about.
“Kaiba Seto,” Hanzo greeted, bowing much in the same way he had during their first meeting, “I understand you wish to speak about what happened?”
“What I want,” Kaiba began testily, gesturing vaguely with one hand, “is to know how you pulled that little stunt with the Blue Eyes hologram.”
Hanzo’s eyebrows raised. “I don’t understand.”
Kaiba rose, slapping his hands down on his desk. “Don’t play dumb, Shimada. I saw you summon Blue Eyes down in the labs with your arrow. You used it to attack those terrorists. If it actually had an effect on them, then those terrorists aren’t the only ones stealing my technology.”
He circled around his desk, drawing himself up to full height and finding - with great pleasure - that he was a few heads taller than Hanzo. “Let me see the arrow you used to summon Blue Eyes.”
“I’m sorry,” Hanzo apologized, sounding hesitant, “What is this Blue Eyes?”
“The dragon!” Kaiba demanded, stepping into Hanzo’s space. He glared down at him. “Show me what you used to summon the dragon.”
Hanzo’s eyes darkened, and he took a step back. “You are being rude, Kaiba Seto. I suggest you stop.”
“I’ll be however I want to be with someone who stole my technology under the guise of protecting it!” Kaiba drew himself forward again, jabbing a finger into Hanzo’s chest. “You Overwatch freaks faked an attack to get access to my labs.”
“I assure you, we did not.”
“Then show me the arrow.” Kaiba smirked, hand out with his palm turned upwards. “You’ll have nothing to hide if you aren’t lying.”
Hanzo wore a smirk of his own as he reached behind him, into the slim quiver on his back, and withdrew a single arrow.
Kaiba snatched it and took it over to his desk, turning it over in his hands. This arrow, unlike the metal one Hanzo had used, was a standard wooden arrow with feather fletching. It did not emit a humming noise, nor did it appear to have any mechanical parts at all. “This isn’t a joke, Shimada, I could sue you for stealing my tech. Show me the hologram arrow.”
“There is no hologram,” Hanzo insisted, sounding amused.
Kaiba had heard that smug self-righteousness in Atem’s tone one too many times to be anything less than enraged. He considered just throttling the man, calling security in and working him over until he gave up the hologram arrow, but then he remembered how quickly Hanzo had sprung into action down in the labs, how he’d been able to jump into the firefight while Kaiba had cowered behind the door. He remembered the firm hand on his shoulder, the strong arm around his waist.
“My technology is, evidently, a dangerous weapon,” Kaiba said slowly, hoping to appeal to Hanzo’s moral compass, “I found out the hard way that if my technology leaks, people die. I can’t have that happen again.”
Kaiba saw something inside Hanzo relax, and he felt himself instinctively relaxing as well. “I do not know what you mean by hologram. My sonic arrows detect the presence of enemies, making them easier to track.”
“But the dragon,” Kaiba insisted, “It was a Blue Eyes. It was a hologram. That’s my technology.” He reached into his back pocket and slipped his Blue Eyes card from his wallet, holding it up for Hanzo to see.
Hanzo’s eyes studied the card intently. “I do not know what this is.”
Kaiba exhaled sharply then turned, striding over to a display cabinet near his desk. In it, he kept his duel disks from Duelist Kingdom and Battle City. He took out the one of his own design and equipped it to his arm, turning it on and deploying the hologram projectors. Hanzo eyed duel disk warily. “This is Blue Eyes,” Kaiba said definitively, putting the card into play in defense mode.
He’d built the ceilings high for a reason. The hologram projectors materialized the Blue Eyes White Dragon, not as large as they’d been able to make him during Battle City or in his custom arenas, but it was still impressive. It fairly filled the space between himself and Hanzo, rearing up with an ear piercing shriek before settling down. Kaiba shot Hanzo a smug look over its head. The other man’s eyes were wide and he’d taken a few paces back. Well then, perhaps Overwatch hadn’t stolen his technology after all. Either that, or Hanzo was quite the thespian.
“It’s a hologram. It can’t hurt you. It can’t even touch you,” Kaiba explained, walking forward through his dragon for effect. The pixels shifted around him, accommodating their master. “The Solid Vision R&D was developing before the attack would have been the next evolution of this, as close to the real thing as we’ve ever been.”
Hanzo reached his hand out and passed it through Blue Eyes’ head mutely. He stared at his hand, flexing his fingers.
“If you didn’t steal my technology,” Kaiba began. He took his card off of the duel disk and dismantled the hologram, all the while thinking of what else he could have seen down in the labs. Coming up short, he asked, “Then how do you explain your dragon?”
Hanzo was silent a moment before he said, “Dragons.”
“What?”
“Dragons,” Hanzo repeated, “There are two.”
“What do you mean,” Kaiba demanded.
Hanzo opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He furrowed his eyebrows, shut his lips, and shrugged. Then, he tugged his shirt free of his pants and began undressing.
A protest had formed on Kaiba’s open lips, but he was frozen at the sight of the intricate dragon tattoo that began at Hanzo’s hips, wrapped around his torso, snaked over his shoulder, and ended at his forearm. The dragon was at least blue, but it also had two heads. It was a work of goddamn art, and Kaiba was only slightly ashamed of staring.
“These are my dragons,” Hanzo said, sort of quietly, for the room had become somehow more sensitive. He ran his right hand along the tattoo beginning near his navel, swirling his fingers around the snake of the beast’s body. Kaiba watched wordlessly as Hanzo’s fingers brushed along the pulse point at the bend in his elbow, then his wrist, and then his skin began to glow a faint blue. Azure, the color of the sky in summer. The glowing ink of the tattoo lifted from his skin and into the air, as if suspended by magic.
The dragons swirled around Hanzo with a life of their own, tangling themselves around him several times before arcing towards Seto, who backed up until his desk stopped him. Still, the dragons advanced. Awestruck, all he could do was stare as they reached him, staring into his eyes like they could recognize something there. Then one of them touched him, and Seto felt the tremor that ran through his body down to his very core.
Somehow, Hanzo called the apparitions back to him, and they returned to wrapping themselves around him before sinking back into his skin, becoming the tattoo once more.
Kaiba regarded Hanzo as evenly as he felt possible.
Hanzo reached down and picked up his shirt.
“You’re haunted.” It was almost, almost a question.
Hanzo looked like he might laugh. “The dragons answer to the Shimada clan. They are my birthright.”
“You know, you’d think that after all the shit I’ve seen, I’d more easily believe this.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s nothing.”
The two men stared at each other. Hanzo’s expression was soft yet still fairly unreadable. Kaiba felt shaken. He didn’t know what to do with the information he’d just been given. This Shimada Hanzo character had a tattoo that became dragons? Okay, yet another piece of magical bullshit that had somehow found its way into his life. Of course, Kaiba did not have to have this magical bullshit in his life, strictly speaking. He could thank Hanzo for his time, for saving his technology and his employees, and send him on his way. Hanzo and Overwatch would go back to America and to Germany and to the history books, never to darken Kaiba Corp.’s doorway again.
But Seto Kaiba knew himself well. He knew that, much like the whole Yuugi and Atem mess, he would not be able to leave Shimada Hanzo alone. Not when the man had actual blue dragons inked into his skin.
And so that is how Kaiba Seto found himself saying, out loud: “Let me show you the rest of my work, Shimada. You’ve never played Duel Monsters?”