Disclaimer: No tengo derecho alguno a la propiedad intelectual representada por Yu-Gi-Oh!
Author's Note: I'm using the Japanese names simply because they're the ones I'm used to, but in Western order (personal name/family name). Setting is not necessarily intended to be Japan.
Title: Two Hours' Traffic
Rating: PG-13 to R
Category: Romance/Tragedy
Pairings: Jounouchi/Mokuba, others
Summary: AU, a.k.a. the Mutougues and the Kaibalets. A Domino City wracked by civil strife--a chance meeting--an unexpected attraction...
Warnings: Language; sexual situations, esp. yaoi; and (ducks head) likely fatalities.
Spoilers: Doubtful.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love/...Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage...--William Shakespeare
Two Hours' Traffic
Chapter One
The slender young man sat in the bus shelter, resting his head against the glass wall that backed the bench. Despite his fantastical mop of hair--blond, crimson and black--and the array of buckles and black leather he sported, something about the way he held himself, something in the dimple beside his mouth, suggested that this was a very nice human being.
Shrieking gears heralded the arrival of a bus. The young man's eyelids fluttered open; he smiled an apology at the driver's questioning glance, and waved the vehicle on. After a moment, he got up, looked up and down the street. "Aah, Jounouchi," he said aloud, laughing and pushing his fingers through his hair. The gesture ended in a wince; he massaged his left cheekbone, and sighed before returning to his place on the bench.
Dusk had settled over the park behind him before he sighted the once- familiar, battered Toyota weaving through the flow of cars. He jumped to his feet as the car squealed to a stop in front of him.
"Jouno--"
"YUUG! Man, oh man!" The driver of the car bounded out, wrapped him in a punishing hug. "Damn, I've missed you, kid."
Yuugi had to catch his breath before replying. "Jounouchi." The other could hear the smile in his voice. "You're home."
They both jumped at the blare of a horn. Jounouchi blinked at the bus headlights looming behind his car. "Shit! Let's get moving." He thrust Yuugi into the car, leapt in after, and slammed the door.
"Changed much?" Yuugi said, glancing sidelong with a grin as they pulled away from the curb.
Jounouchi snorted. "Nah, not in ways that matter. 'Course, neither has Domino traffic. It took me two hours, Yuug, to get here from the highway exit. Hope you haven't been waiting too long--"
"'S all right," Yuugi cut off his friend's belated remorse. "You're here, that's good enough for me. Now Honda may be a different matter--he wanted to paint the town red with you tonight." Abruptly, Yuugi fell silent, raising a hand to his face.
After a moment, Jounouchi shot a glance at Yuugi. Without warning, he gave the other a friendly punch in the shoulder. Yuugi yelped in pain.
"Yuug!"
"Sorry," Yuugi managed.
"What's been going on? You're hurt." Jounouchi steered the vehicle sharply across several lanes of traffic, pulled into a store's parking lot, then turned a frowning look on his friend.
"Just got in the middle of something," Yuugi said, staring at his feet.
"I should never have left." Jounouchi spoke almost to himself. A browned hand turned Yuugi's face toward him, lingered on the bruise, then fell away.
"You had to follow your dream," Yuugi pointed out, voice gentle.
Jounouchi barked a laugh. "Yeah, well. A dream that hinges on getting someone to fall in love with you ain't much of a dream." His face creased. "I should have known. It's like that Beatles song--'Baby won't you drive my car, and maybe I'll love you.' And all that happened was I just fell harder for her." He fisted his hands on his lap.
"You also got your college education, and better job experiences than you could've found in Domino."
Looking up, Jounouchi caught Yuugi's eye. "Eh, you're still good at getting me sidetracked. Now I want answers out of you: Who's been knocking you around?"
Yuugi's gaze was somber. "If it were just me, that'd be different--but all Domino's gone crazy. And--well, Grandpa's right in the middle of it." In answer to Jounouchi's muffled curse, Yuugi added, "He didn't want us to tell you--figured you were well away from it all."
"Damn, Yuug, your family took me in when I when had nowhere to go. How could ya leave me in the dark? I gotta repay old Sugoroku for his faith in me, for adopting me."
The smaller man took a deep breath. "Remember those 'Bored? Try Kaiba!' billboards?"
"The ones right before I left, that we had no idea what they were about?"
"Well...unfortunately, we found out."
On every side, his fellow passengers were enthusiastically greeting family and friends. After a brief look around, the teen sighed and headed toward the moving walkway, shouldering his backpack. His brother was too busy to come meet him at the airport, he knew that--which was just as well considering the two hours the plane had spent circling.
The metallic floor of the walkway hummed as it carried him towards baggage claim and passenger pickup. How long had it been since they moved here? Four years? And for most of that time, he'd been away at boarding school. Away from the brother around whom his world revolved. He doubted Domino would ever feel like "home"--except that wherever Seto was, had to be home.
Dutifully, he watched his step as he got off the walkway--so he didn't notice the figure standing at the end until he collided with it.
"Mokuba," it said. And arms folded tight around him.
"Bro! You didn't have to come," Mokuba halfheartedly protested, squeezing back.
"You didn't have to take a commercial flight," Seto Kaiba corrected, releasing him and beckoning to one of his staff with a jerk of his head. The man--apparently used to such unspoken commands--immediately relieved Mokuba of his backpack; the two brothers headed past the luggage carrels and toward the revolving doors.
"I wanted to," Mokuba said, ready to pick up the well-worn argument. Seto's lips compressed. They didn't speak again until they were under the awning waiting for the Kaiba Corporation limousine.
Mokuba reached out and tugged at the lapel of Seto's casual business suit. "Looks like Otogi's given you a makeover, huh? No more dusters?"
"I felt it was time for a change," Seto said repressively, but there was a tiny lift to the corner of his mouth.
A silvery-blue limo glided to a stop in front of them. Mokuba frankly gaped at it, then looked up to see Seto watching for his reaction. "Needed a new one?" he commented, following his elder into the generously proportioned passenger's compartment.
"Hn," was the only response. They settled back into the white leather seating. Through the mirrored windows, Mokuba watched the skyscrapers of Domino's downtown grow larger.
"I couldn't come to your graduation. I'm sorry," Seto said abruptly.
"I know." It had hurt, of course. But after so many years of relying on each other, Mokuba could sense Seto's presence with him every step of the day, certainly felt fierce pride come rippling across the miles as the black folder encasing his diploma was placed in his hands. And he knew it had cost Seto greatly to make that admission.
"It's all right, Seto." He met his brother's steady blue gaze with a teasing smirk. "You're going to make it up to me anyway. You always do."
"Here," was all the other said, pushing a small contraption across the seat between them. Mokuba grabbed it up. "The new prototype?"
"Tell me what you think," Seto said, returning his attention to the scenery.
Engrossed in the game console, Mokuba didn't look up once while they sliced through downtown Domino, en route to the suburb where the Kaiba mansion was located. But as they approached KaibaCorp's headquarters, something--Mokuba didn't know what--prompted him to eye his brother.
Seto had stiffened, his brows drawing together. Curious, Mokuba slid over to his brother's side of the compartment.
Almost immediately after Seto inherited KC from their stepfather, a mere year or so after they came to Domino, Seto had commissioned a splendid statue of a dragon--the new corporate symbol--to stand in front of the KC Tower. The polished stone head, thrown back, gazed proudly over the park in front of the building; outspread wings seemed ready to lift the creature into the air; at this time of the evening, the bright lights trained on the figure made it appear to glow from within.
Now, however, there were service vehicles parked in front of the statue, and despite the lateness of the hour, workers were clambering over the dragon, doing--
"What?" Mokuba said under his breath. And found his answer.
A bucket or more of red paint had apparently been sloshed across the dragon's roaring mouth. In careful letters on the front of the plinth, someone had sprayed in the same color, "BLOOD OF DOMINO." Below that, and more sloppily, was painted: "KC OUT OF DOMINO CI"--Mokuba suspected the tagger had been interrupted at his work.
The car was moving again; Mokuba craned his head in time to see the workers level a high-powered hose at the dragon's muzzle. Water fanned out like an explosion of glass.
He sat back, opened his mouth, then closed it. Seto's eyes were shut tight.
With a sick little feeling, Mokuba watched a single tear trace its way down Seto's cheek. He looked away, and after a moment picked up the console again.
--to be continued--