Notes: The bulk of this fic heavily features Jounouchi and Hirutani, so prepare yourself for a lot of filthy language. Considering who they are, I figure if this manga didn't originally run in WSJ, this is what we would've gotten. Also some violence, but hey, what else would you expect, am I right?

A Wave of Calm

When Jounouchi woke up, his brain was itching.

His room was dark, and hot. His sleep shirt was damp with sweat and sticking with his skin, but he knew that the sweat had less to do with the summer heat and more to do with the sun over the docks in his dreams, the taste of remembered salt water still sticking in his mouth. Jounouchi rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, and when that did little to stop the itching in his brain or calm his panicked heart, he turned his eyes to the cheap digital clock on his nightstand. 3:06 AM. A stupid time to be awake, and yet he knew it'd be impossible to get back to sleep at this point. Useless to even try.

Jounouchi kicked his thin sheet off of him and rolled over onto his stomach, leaning halfway off his bed to grope along his floor in the dark to find yesterday's (or last week's, he wasn't picky) jeans. When his fingers found denim, he breathed a small sigh of relief and stood up to dress as quickly and quietly as he could. Well, to an extent, anyway. He'd swap out his boxers for jeans, but he wasn't going to bother swapping his sleep shirt for something more "presentable." Not when he was just going to be wandering his neighborhood for an undetermined amount of hours.

Once dressed, Jounouchi slipped out of his bedroom and down the hallway that led to his apartment's front door. Over the years, for all that he'd earned a reputation as a loudmouth, he'd developed a knack for moving quietly when he needed to. Years of fear of waking the beast he lived with had taught him how to move on the balls of his feet, how to stay to the left side of the hallway to avoid the squeakiest part of the floor. But even the stealthiest of movements couldn't keep the deadbolt from being the loudest thing in existence, and when Jounouchi turned it to unlock the door, a voice thick with sleep sounded from the couch: "Whozzat? Boy, is that you?"

Jounouchi took a deep breath through his nose, and released it slowly from his mouth before he answered. "Yeah. I'm going out for a bit. I'll be back later."

His dad grunted. "Get me a packa smokes while you're out, wouldja? 'm out."

Jounouchi turned his eyes to the ceiling, his hand squeezing the door handle. "Can't," he said. "I'm underage, remember?" Considering his dad seemed to barely remember his name half the time, Jounouchi wasn't too surprised that he'd forgotten how old Jounouchi was, too, but he'd admit to himself that it still stung a little.

His dad was unfazed. "Don'tcha got a fake? You got a fake. Use it an' get me some smokes. Make yourself useful."

Jounouchi ground his teeth together. Tonight wasn't the night for this. It wasn't a good night to talk to his dad, wasn't a good night to point out how he thought keeping a roof over their heads made him plenty useful— "Fine," he said, and wrenched the front door open. "I'll get them."

"Atta boy," his dad said, and turned over onto his other side, his face now muffled by the back cushions of the couch. "Good kid."

Jounouchi shut the door behind him with a little more force than necessary. Yeah. Good kid. Sure.

It was no cooler outside than it had been inside, and being outside came with the added detriment of humidity. Bugs swarmed in the light of the street lamps, and they did nothing to make Jounouchi feel better. He had no intention of actually picking up cigarettes for his dad, particularly since retrieving his fake I.D. would have meant doubling back to his bedroom, but he headed in the direction of the nearest convenience store anyway. It was a fifteen minute walk, and maybe walking there and back would help clear his head. Maybe it would chase away the nightmares, sweep away the ghostly fingers of the Millennium Rod that he felt lingering in his head, even now.

Jounouchi scratched his fingers along his scalp and mussed his hair in the process, but it did nothing to help.

How long? That was what he wanted to know, what he should have asked when he had the chance, when both Isis and a non-murderous Malik were right there, ready and willing to answer any questions he had. How long was he going to have to deal with feeling that prickly sensation swelling in his head every now and again, as if someone else had hold of his brain and could morph his thoughts like silly putty in their hands? He knew it wasn't real—knew that he himself had broken the influence that the Millennium Rod had over him, that he said "fuck you" to Malik's will and kicked Malik out of his head once and for all. But every now and then he still felt it. Not the actual thing, no—Malik didn't even have the Millennium Rod anymore, so he couldn't use it even if he for some reason wanted to—but the ghost of it. The memory of it. The phantom sensation of his brain just itching, of his skin breaking out in a hot sweat and his heart beating frantically in response to the surge of adrenaline his defiant brain shot through him. It made him nauseous, and it was stupid, he knew, so stupid, but it had already been months since that happened and he still felt it, still had episodes like this. Episodes like this that were ordinarily accompanied by nightmares of the worst fucking day of his life.

Tonight, like so many other nights when he had the nightmare, he wasn't able to make it in time. The key slipped from his fingers and clattered against the wooden planks of the docks as the anchor dragged them down into the sea. Part of him had known that this wasn't right, that this wasn't how it happened, that his stupid fucking brain was remembering it wrong and if it was going to make him suffer through this, if it was going to make him live through it yet again, it could at least get it right so that he didn't have to watch his best friend drown and know it was his fault. But knowing that didn't make it any better, didn't make it any easier to know that, in this dream at least, he'd as good as killed Yuugi. And as always, he wasn't allowed to wake up until his real body stopped breathing just like his dream self, and his brain jerked him out of sleep as a result.

Someone had left an empty soda can in the road, and Jounouchi kicked it viciously, though the sound of it clattering loudly against the pavement didn't lessen the jittery feeling his muscles.

"Holy shit—Jounouchi?"

Jounouchi came to an abrupt stop and looked up—and when he saw who had spoken, he said, "Son of a bitch," beneath his breath.

Jounouchi's neighborhood wasn't the greatest, which made sense considering how cheap his apartment was, but he had still forgotten what kind of trash lived in the area. Trash being, namely, Hirutani, who currently sat on one of the low walls that lined the sidewalk, a slowly burning cigarette in one hand and a stupid smirk on his stupid face. Jounouchi had just rounded the corner of the street, and he'd have to walk past Hirutani to get to the convenience store—and that was fine, in a sense. Hirutani didn't scare him. But he hadn't seen Hirutani since the incident in the warehouse with the yo-yos, and tonight of all nights, he really wasn't in the mood.

So he said nothing, and kept walking.

"It's been awhile, Jounouchi," Hirutani said, and he flicked some ashes off the end of his cigarette. He sounded as amused as he had when he'd first called out to Jounouchi. "Haven't seen you in, what, a year? What have you been up to?"

Jounouchi jammed his hands into his pockets in an attempt to prevent himself from punching Hirutani off the wall. "Fuck off, man," he said. "I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now."

Hirutani laughed around his cigarette. "What, you can't talk to an old friend?" he asked. Jounouchi set his jaw. First the nightmare, then his dad, now this. What had he done in the previous day to rack up this much bad karma? "Fucksake, it's been a year. Maybe more, maybe less, who knows. And you're not "in the mood" to pay your respects and say hello?"

"'My respects.'" Jounouchi snorted. "See, that's the kind of attitude that doesn't make me want to deal with you. And you wonder why we never talk."

"Yeah, I do wonder." Hirutani took another drag on his cigarette, and as Jounouchi passed him, kicked out his leg to push Jounouchi with his foot. Jounouchi roughly knocked his foot away, and Hirutani laughed. "I wonder what happened to you. Where you went so wrong."

"Fuck off," Jounouchi growled, and it was stupid, he knew—stupid and pointless to stop and turn to face him, but damn it, every muscle in his body was screaming at him to take a swing. "And don't touch me again, or you'll regret it."

Hirutani raised his eyebrows. "Will I?" he asked. "Seems to me we always used to be equals."

"Yeah, equals," Jounouchi said. "We were real equals when I knocked you off that building."

The smirk slid off Hirutani's face, and was replaced by the same look of cold fury Jounouchi had received every single other time he spat on Hirutani's demands. "Things didn't end so well back then," he said after a moment. "But that was then. This is now. Things would be different now."

"I'm sure," Jounouchi said, and after he cast a glance around at the empty street asked, "So, where're the rest of the losers you run around with? Can't imagine you'd be out here without the monkey squad."

Hirutani shrugged, and grinded his cigarette into the wall to put it out. "You imagined wrong. They're off for the night. They've got other things to do, and so do I."

"Good. I'll leave you to do whatever it is you've got to do, then. Bye." Jounouchi turned on the ball of his foot to start toward the convenience store again, but he made it barely five steps before Hirutani was at his side, his stride easily matching Jounouchi's. Jounouchi groaned. "God damn it, I already told you to fuck off and leave me alone, what part of that didn't you get?"

"What part of you is going to make me?" Hirutani asked, and once more Jounouchi stopped and turned to face him, rage feeling akin to hate in his veins.

"You really wanna know? You really wanna go there right now? Again?" he asked.

Hirutani grinned broadly, and spread his arms wide. "Why not? I already told you things would be different. Might as well prove it. Besides, I watch the news, Jounouchi, catch a newspaper here and there, listen to the radio—"

"Congratulations, let me get you a medal."

"—and so I know you've spent the better part of the last year playing some pussy ass card game." Hirutani laughed. "It doesn't even matter what I've been doing, because what you've been doing ain't shit. You've let yourself go, Jounouchi. You've gotten real soft. All bark, no bite. Pretty sure I could take you down without even trying."

"Really." Jounouchi crossed his arms over his chest, and channeled his energy through tapping his foot against the ground. "You really think that, just because I've been in a few Duel Monsters tournaments?"

"I know it."

"Right," Jounouchi scoffed. "Well, let me fill you in on a little something, Hirutani: Those "pussy ass card games" put my life in danger more times than you and your little gang of fuckboys could ever dream of." Hirutani snorted in disbelief as Jounouchi added, "And considering the last time we met you and said fuckboys attacked me and Yuugi with frigging yo-yos, I really don't think you're in a position to take the piss out of Duel Monsters."

Far from being perturbed, Hirutani smirked. "Those yo-yos fucked you guys up pretty good though, didn't they?"

Jounouchi glared at him. "I won't lie, they hurt like a bitch. That's not the point though. The point is—"

"Pretty good for yo-yos, weren't they?" Hirutani interrupted. "Not really something to make light of, considering."

"Yeah, whatever, the point is—"

"'Course, if I were you, I'd be wondering how yo-yos could fuck anyone up like that. Wouldn't think a kid's toy could hurt that bad, considering the brats they're sold to," Hirutani said, and Jounouchi considered showing Hirutani how badly his face would hurt after Jounouchi's fist smashed into it. "Didn't it ever cross your mind at all?"

"I was a little too busy thinking about the fact that you tried to hang my best friend, and also about the fact that I had shards of glass to scrape out of my eyes," Jounouchi said. "So no, I didn't spend time thinking about your goddamn yo-yos."

"Fair enough," Hirutani said, and he pulled one of the goddamn yo-yos from his jacket pocket. He lazily let it fall toward the ground, and pulled it up by the string with a motion that was just as casual. Jounouchi eyed it with distaste for a moment before he started walking toward the convenience store again. "If you're not curious, you don't have to know."

Hirutani didn't follow him this time, and Jounouchi knew why. The bait was too obvious, too heavy-handed—but then, everything Hirutani did was like that. Jounouchi stopped a few paces away, and this time the nagging in his head was less due to unpleasant memories, and more due to the yo-yo Jounouchi knew Hirutani was still playing with behind him. Jounouchi cursed every facet of the universe that had put Hirutani in his path that night, and turned to look back. "I didn't say I wasn't curious," he said, and this time Hirutani's grin held a triumphant edge. "I just said I didn't think about it before."

Hirutani jerked his head in a little nod. "Come here," he said, and pulled the yo-yo up into his hand again, his fingers curling around it. "I'll show you. You know those washers they put in faucets to make 'em work?"

"Yeah," Jounouchi said, but he didn't really. As he neared, Hirutani twisted the yo-yo in both hands until the plastic casing came off one side. He then held it out for Jounouchi to peer at.

"Turns out they're just about the right size for yo-yos," Hirutani said, and as Jounouchi leaned over he saw that several metal discs were piled inside, slotted neatly into the plastic casing. "And it also turns out they get pretty heavy when bunched together. Who knew, right? Convenient blunt force, right in your pocket. Best part is, it's still a yo-yo." Hirutani snapped the plastic casing back on the yo-yo and slipped it back into his pocket. "It won't look suspicious at all if you're asked to turn out your pockets, and it won't piss off cops the same way knives or stun guns will. You can laugh, but they're perfect for the day-to-day."

Jounouchi wouldn't admit it out loud, but it was a neat trick—a spark of ingenuity he wouldn't have expected from Hirutani. But the second the words stun guns left Hirutani's mouth, Jounouchi felt his curiosity replaced by a renewed surge of pulsing hatred. Something in how he felt must have shown on his face, because Hirutani blinked at him before he laughed. "What's the matter, Jounouchi?" he asked. "You still mad about that?"

"Nah, why would I be mad? It's every guy's dream to be sent to the hospital for two months because some assholes tried to kill him with stun guns," Jounouchi said. He turned and started to walk off again, and this time, Hirutani followed.

"Two months?" Hirutani laughed. "I put you in the hospital for two months? Really?"

"Something like that," Jounouchi ground out. In truth it felt closer to two years, and given that the first word his mind jumped to when he thought about his hospital stay was forever, he figured he couldn't be entirely sure of the exact number of days or months he spent confined.

Hirutani loosed another delighted laugh, and slung an arm around Jounouchi's shoulders. Jounouchi shoved him off. "Fuckin' A, Jounouchi, why didn't you tell me that sooner? Should've sent me a postcard from your hospital room, because that—that just made my night."

"I'm happy you find it so funny," Jounouchi snapped. "Here's another thing to make you laugh: Fuck off and get out of here, or I'm gonna break your face."

"If you were going to, you would've done it by now," Hirutani said, and he scrutinized Jounouchi moment before he asked, "Though there's a question: Why haven't you? The Jounouchi I know would've hit me by this point."

"The Jounouchi you knew would've hit anyone for no reason," Jounouchi said. "Can't really compare me to who I was back then."

"No kidding," Hirutani said. "You're softer now—way softer. When did that happen, Jounouchi? When did you lose your teeth?"

"I haven't lost anything. If anything, I've gained—"

"Gotta be around the time you went to Domino," Hirutani mused, and it was clear that he was once again tuning Jounouchi out—but then, that wasn't a surprise. As the convenience store finally came into view—and for fucksake, how did it take Jounouchi that long to get there?—Hirutani said, "and definitely around the time you started hanging out with that Yuki kid. In fact, I know it, because you and that Honda were still getting into scraps before you started hanging out with that kid. We'd see you, you know. I heard. So it had to be him. That kid. He was the one, wasn't he?" Hirutani knocked his arm against Jounouchi's shoulder. "He tamed you."

Once again Jounouchi swiped at Hirutani, but Hirutani stepped out of the way before Jounouchi's fist could connect. "First of all," Jounouchi said, "His name is Yuugi, not Yuki. Second, you're not gonna say it even to get it right, because if hear you so much as say his name I'm gonna paint the sidewalk with your teeth. Third, I'm not 'soft' or whatever it is you're obsessed with going on about tonight, and don't talk about Yuugi like he made me that way, or like my friendship with him is something bad, because if anything, being friends with him has made me stronger than I've ever been. Lastly, shut the fuck up."

By now they were standing beneath the light of the convenience store's sign, and Jounouchi could see the convenience store clerk eyeing them through one of the tall windows. "You're right," Hirutani said after a moment. "You're not tame, you're just leashed."

"The fuck?" Jounouchi asked, voice flat.

"You're fucking caged. Look at yourself, take a good, hard look. You've been keyed up since before we even started talking—I saw it, you know, saw you before you saw me—and this whole time you've been making threats, but you haven't done a damn thing to follow through. And why is that? Why won't you do it?" Hirutani stepped closer, got right in Jounouchi's face, but Jounouchi refused to step back. Jounouchi's breathing was fast—shallow—and any second now, he was going to— "It's because you're not free to. You're holding back, because you have to. Because you care what that kid thinks. He wants you to play nice, and so you're going to jam it down and pretend to be a good boy, be something you're not, all to make him happy—"

"Where the fuck do you—"

"And for what? Nothing's changed. You haven't changed, much as you want to pretend to. You're still the same, same as me." Hirutani bared his teeth through his grin. "Only difference is, I was never stuffed in a cage by some wimpy kid who wants to make me a poodle instead of a pitbull."

Jounouchi glared at Hirutani, silent for a few seconds, and when he was sure Hirutani wasn't going to say anything else, he said in a low voice, "Yuugi is ten times the man you'll ever be. And you know what? So am I, now that I've met him."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, and that said? We're done here. I've got nothing more to say to you, now or ever. Stay the hell away, Hirutani. For good this time."

"If you say so. But you know you'd be happier with me," Hirutani said. Jounouchi didn't answer. Instead, he turned to face the open parking lot. He had no idea where he was going, but "as far away from Hirutani as possible" seemed like a good enough destination for the time being. He was so tired of— "But that's fine. Run back to your master. Good talk, Jounouchi." On his last words, Hirutani's fist cuffed against Jounouchi's shoulder.

It was like someone set off a flash bang in Jounouchi's head. One second he was walking away. The next his knuckles were splintering against Hirutani's teeth.

Hirutani stumbled back and swiped blood off his mouth with one hand, and somehow, despite the fact that the split skin on Jounouchi's knuckles told him that he had to have at least knocked some of Hirutani's teeth loose, if not out, Hirutani was grinning. "That's what I'm—" he said, but that was all he had a chance to say before Jounouchi tackled him, sending them both down to the asphalt before Jounouchi raised his fist to strike again.

Hirutani raised his left arm to bar it against Jounouchi's chest and shoved upward as his other hand caught the fist that Jounouchi smashed down toward his face. With more strength than Jounouchi would have expected, Hirutani flipped Jounouchi off of him, throwing him to the ground before he pressed the advantage. As Hirutani pounced, Jounouchi brought his feet up, and caught Hirutani square in the chest with them. Hirutani's momentum meant that Jounouchi was able to flip Hirutani over his head, and Jounouchi twisted around in time to see Hirutani land flat on his back on the concrete. Jounouchi scrambled up into a crouch and threw himself forward as Hirutani, a hissed swear escaping his lips, turned to meet him head on.

Nothing mattered anymore. Jounouchi's fists bled and Hirutani's jaw cracked, and nothing mattered. Jounouchi's stomach was crushed by Hirutani's knee and his shoulder was smashed against the concrete, and nothing mattered. Nothing mattered—not the light of the convenience store, not the fact that there was a witness in said store, not his dad, not the nightmare, not the Millennium Rod—nothing, nothing mattered except that Hirutani shoved Jounouchi to the ground and straddled him, his fingers wrapped around Jounouchi's throat and squeezing, squeezing, and Jounouchi slammed his fist into Hirutani's manic smirk with enough force to knock Hirutani sideways, his grip slackened just enough that Jounouchi could slam his knee into Hirutani's ribs, and he thought he heard them crack, he—

"HEY!" Jounouchi swiped blood off his eye as he looked over at the convenience store clerk, the one who had shouted—and that was the first shout, wasn't it? Only the convenience store clerk was breathing hard, looked panicked, like maybe he'd been screaming for some time— "I called the cops, so you punks better clear out!"

It was only now that the blind rage was starting to subside in Jounouchi's head, and those words (called the cops) were ones he hadn't heard in a long time. At least, not directed at him. He looked over at Hirutani, who was sporting a swollen jaw and bloodied nose, and Hirutani looked back.

"Come back with me," Hirutani said. "You know you—you belong with us, Jounouchi. With me."

"The hell I do." Jounouchi pushed himself to his feet and stumbled back, and the convenience store clerk—perhaps fearing for his safety—darted back in the store. "For the last time, fuck off. Leave me alone. Never talk to me again."

"Jounouchi—" Hirutani said, but Jounouchi turned and started stalking across the parking lot, determined to not only leave before the cops showed up, but also to put as much distance between him and the bastard behind him as possible. "Jounouchi! Fuck—we'll get it back someday! You'll see! You won't last long with him—you can't!"

Fuck you, Jounouchi thought, but he wouldn't say it—not when it would only encourage Hirutani to follow him again. Jounouchi looped around the wooden fence that marked the property line of the convenience store and forced himself into a run despite how there was throbbing in his knees to match the ache in his gut. He was headed in the opposite direction of his apartment, and that was fine. He still wasn't ready to head back, and since he couldn't be sure of how long he'd been gone, he couldn't be sure that his dad had fallen back asleep. Last thing he needed was to go home to a dad who was not only awake and hungover, but who also had a chance of remembering he'd asked Jounouchi to get something for him, only to realize that Jounouchi hadn't followed through.

But that left the question of where to go. The first place that popped into his head was Yuugi's, but he dashed it. Yuugi's was out. Forget the last thing Jounouchi needed—the last thing Yuugi needed was Jounouchi showing up at his door at something like four in the morning, roughed up after spending the past however long with Hirutani, of all people. No, Jounouchi wouldn't tell him that. Yuugi didn't need that. It was bad enough Yuugi had been hurt by Hirutani twice already. Jounouchi wouldn't bring Hirutani back into his world a third time.

So where did that leave? Honda's? Honda would panic worse than Yuugi if Jounouchi told him that he'd fought with Hirutani. And as for Anzu and Bakura, well, Jounouchi was pretty sure that Anzu had more than her share of Hirutani's gang the first time Hirutani had tried to rope Jounouchi back into his circle of Hell, and while Bakura had never met Hirutani, Jounouchi wanted to keep it that way. Better to let Bakura be the one friend that had escaped friendship with Jounouchi unscathed, especially considering everything else he'd already had to deal with, given the Millennium Ring and all.

So that left . . . no one. Jounouchi finally slowed to a stop, his lungs searing with pain, his head light, and his muscles rubbery. It was funny, he thought. The Kame Game Shop was nearby—just down the road, on the corner. But he couldn't bring himself to go there. He couldn't—couldn't drag Yuugi into it again. Couldn't drag him down like that. Couldn't—wouldn't drag him down like that.

But he needed to rest. Jounouchi stumbled into a little side alley and dropped down to sit at the base of the wall. A few minutes—that was all he needed. He'd take some time to rest, clear his head, let his muscles relax . . . and then he'd go home. Maybe he could climb up the side of his apartment building and enter through his bedroom window. He could pretend he was there all night, tell his dad he just dreamed about asking Jounouchi to get him some cigarettes. Maybe he'd believe it. He wouldn't notice Jounouchi's injuries, that was for sure. He never did. And if he somehow did, well . . . Jounouchi was pretty sure he had won that fight. That was all he needed to tell his dad, and his old man would be satisfied.

Jounouchi leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, and despite all other plans, he slipped under within minutes.

". . . Jounouchi-kun? Hey, Jounouchi-kun!"

"Hm—huh?" Jounouchi woke with a start, and jerked away from the hands that gripped his shoulder. As he blinked the area around him into focus, he saw that said hands belonged to Yuugi, who pulled away, probably to avoid startling Jounouchi further. "Oh—Yuugi. What—?"

"That's . . . kind of what I wanted to ask you," Yuugi said, as Jounouchi looked around and realized that he was still sitting at the base of the building wall, in the little side alley just down the street from the Kame Game Shop. Yuugi watched him with worried eyes. "Jounouchi-kun, what happened? What are you doing here? You're injured—"

"I'm fine," Jounouchi said, but Yuugi's frown told Jounouchi that he didn't believe a word of it. "I just—I guess I fell asleep—"

"Well, yeah, I could see that. But why—"

"What time is it?"

"About nine. In the morning."

"I can see the sun, Yuugi," Jounouchi said, but he smiled a little as he said it, to show he was teasing. Yuugi tried to return the smile, but the wrinkles around his eyes betrayed the worry and confusion he still felt. Damn it. "But that's enough sleep for me, huh? Can't sleep all day. Can't believe I slept until nine. Feels like half the day's gone already."

"Try telling that to my grandpa. He hasn't even had breakfast yet. That's actually why I went out." Yuugi held up a bakery bag to demonstrate his point, and when Jounouchi pushed himself to his feet, Yuugi followed suit. "Since you clearly haven't either, want to come back with me and join us? I'm sure he won't mind. Mom's watching the shop for the morning."

Jounouchi paused. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. Yuugi's mom already had enough problems with him as it was, and walking into the Game Shop in the state he was in definitely wouldn't make him look any better in her eyes. Besides, he could tell that Yuugi still had questions—questions that would no doubt be encouraged by the other Yuugi—and Jounouchi didn't want to answer any of them. But Yuugi was giving him an imploring look, his eyes wide and on the verge of pleading, and Jounouchi . . .

"Yeah, sounds good," Jounouchi said, and a relieved smile broke out over Yuugi's face. "Lead the way, Yuugi."

Jounouchi couldn't say no to that look.

"We got some new cards in last night," Yuugi said as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. "Well, technically they came in yesterday morning, but we only got a chance to add them to the stock last night. They're from the new theme and structure packs that Industrial Illusions announced last week—do you remember that? They sent some of the rarer cards to our shop as sort of a promotional thing, though I'm not really sure why they chose ours . . ."

Maybe Jounouchi was soft, he thought, as Yuugi lost himself in his excitement over the new cards they'd received and how he was thinking of working some of them into his deck. And maybe it was true that Yuugi made him that way. But as they walked and he listened to Yuugi tell him about the new cards, Jounouchi felt that he could finally relax—that the thoughts in his head were finally soothed—for the first time since he'd woken up at three in the morning. If this was what being soft was—if it was this feeling of peace that Yuugi had given him—then Jounouchi was positive, now more than ever:

This was where he belonged, absolutely.