Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh, and it breaks my heart – but I shall forge ahead with head held high!

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Chapter Two "Hopes, Dreams and Negative Numbers"

Suichi Okawa was male, twenty-five, brown-haired and green-eyed, and in most opinions, rather attractive. He didn't have the fabled 'movie star' good looks, but a respectable handsomeness that went well with his quiet demeanor and the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He had a wry sense of humor, didn't take himself too seriously, and wasn't above a good joke or slightly risqué comment - as long as he wasn't in mixed company, that is. He had also been known to pull a prank or two in his time, always stopping short of letting them become dangerous or cruel; unlike some others, he had an uncompromising sense of fair-play that always kicked in and let him know just how far to go. He wasn't the first person you would think of to ask to a party or function, but he was always welcomed and included in the group. If he were part of a sailing ship, he would have been the anchor – tucked back out of the way, but always there when needed, keeping everyone grounded, safe and on an even keel.

That's what was bothering him now. Everything he had seen rubbed against the very nature of his being, and the worry had given him an unsettled night with little sleep and a feeling of having done something wrong without meaning to. Resigning himself to the fact that rest was out of the question, he had decided to get up and come to work early and was now sitting in his car in the Domino High parking lot, waiting for the rain to let up enough to make a dash for the School's front door. It was giving him much too much time to think about his phone conversation with Katsuya Jounouchi's father – he had never met the man face-to-face, but he had felt an instant dislike for him upon hearing the detached coolness in his voice when he had told him about the bruise and Jounouchi's claim of being attacked. The fact that his son was injured seemed to leave the man unfazed, and Suichi could not understand how anyone, much less a parent, could react that way. It made his stomach turn and the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end.

He sighed and rubbed his bottle-green eyes tiredly; the car radio was broken and it was at times like these that he really missed his cigarettes. Smoking was a bad habit that he had picked up in high school, started out of stupidity, acquiescence to peer-pressure and a need to somehow deal with his own case of severe shyness. He had finally quit after witnessing the death of a close relative from lung disease – but even after five years, there were still times that he yearned for one. It was psychological, he knew; a crutch to settle his nerves and slow down an ever-racing mind, but the urge was as real as the car he was sitting in, even after all this time.

A streak of lightening to his left caught his attention, and looking out of the driver side window, he suddenly spotted a figure in blue heading toward the building's double doors. As it moved closer, he realized, with a start, that he recognized the runner's speed and easy gait, even without being able to see the person's features through the heavy downpour. It was Jounouchi; he was sure of it, and he frowned, wondering what the teen was doing at the school at that time of the morning. He knew for a certainty that there were no activities scheduled – and even though Jounouchi was known as somewhat of a troublemaker, he'd dismissed the thought of school vandalism immediately – from what he understood, the majority of the boy's detentions had been for fighting, although those instances had been getting fewer and fewer as time wore on, and most of those had been when he was sticking up for the weaker, more timid classmates who couldn't or wouldn't take up for themselves. So, what was the youth doing there so early? Perhaps, like him, it was due to the inability to sleep – or was there another, less obvious reason?

Shaking his head, he watched as the sprinting form reached the doors and slipped inside. Muttering to himself about the stupidity of coming out on a rainy day without an umbrella, Suichi left the relative dryness of his car to follow the boy inside. He was immediately drenched – getting to his goal was more like crossing a raging river than a parking lot, and by the time he made it, even his shoes and socks were soaked through – and he found himself wondering idly how long the boy had been out in the storm. If it had been for more than just a few minutes, he had to have been miserable; even now, Suichi found himself shivering violently from the cold, and he knew the suit jacket he was wearing was considerably heavier than the school uniform the youngster was clothed in. Stopping for a moment just inside the double doors of the main hall, he cupped his hands to his face, blowing into them in a futile attempt for warmth, his gaze being drawn down to the trail of water on the tiled-linoleum floor by its reflection of the emergency lighting in the dimly lit hallway. Well, at least it seemed that he would have no trouble following the boy – he had as good as left a road map reading 'this way to your destination', or he thought with amusement, as the saying went in the old American westerns that his father had been so fond of, 'he went that-away!' The question was, should he follow him? Or rather, should he confront him and try to find out what was really going on? There was a nagging voice in the back of his head that was warning him that from now on he had better tread carefully – that if the boy really was in some sort of trouble that he might not be willing to talk about it to an adult, at least, not right away. Maybe he had said something to his friends? From what Suichi had witnessed in the locker room, he didn't think so, but they knew Jounouchi better than he did, so even if he hadn't, maybe they might have some suspicions about what might be bothering the young man. Perhaps, his first course of action would be to speak with them; then he could have a talk with Jounouchi if his fears weren't laid to rest. It was worth a try.

His decision made, Suichi shoved his frigid hands into his jacket pockets and started off down the empty corridor, tracking the waterlogged youth by the puddles on the freshly waxed floor. First, he would make sure the boy was all right, then he would bide his time until the other students arrived, and try to figure out a way to talk with them without raising any 'red flags'. He was hoping that he could get rid of the uneasiness that he was feeling, and finally, get some sleep. He certainly needed it.

Meanwhile, unaware that he was being discreetly followed by his favorite teacher, Jounouchi had managed to make his way to the boy's bathroom on the main level of the building where he quickly dried off, as much as was humanly possible, and finger-combed his messy golden locks into some semblance of order, not that it really mattered all that much. They never stayed that way, even on a good day. His hair seemed to be as unruly as his life was; and just like his life, there seemed to be no way to straighten it out. What he wouldn't give to have just one day of not feeling like a caged animal - of being able to show his 'true' face to his friends without having to fear for his safety - or more importantly, THEIRS. Yes, besides losing his sister, his other greatest fear, even greater than him being hurt, or worse, by his father, was the fear of his father hurting one of his friends. Honda or Anzu, or God forbid, Yuugi! Especially Yuugi! The thought of his father hurting his small best friend nearly made him physically ill – he would gladly suffer any amount of pain to keep the one's he cared for safe. If that meant keeping secrets from them, and risking losing their friendship in order to do so – well, he would do it; begrudgingly, regretfully, and with a sorrowful heart, but he would do it.

Taking one last look in the mirror, Jounouchi realized that his appearance was as good as it was going to get under the circumstances, considering that what he had to work with wasn't all that great to begin with, at least, according to his father. He was constantly telling the tender-hearted boy how useless he was; how stupid and insignificant, and that he would never amount to anything – that is, whenever he addressed the boy at all, which was usually when he was punishing him for some 'offense', either real or imagined, or when he was barking orders like a Marine drill sergeant.

Barking orders.

BARKING.

Jounouchi winced at the image that conjured up, as he left the bathroom for the empty classroom across the hall. There was only one other person that could make him feel worth even less than his father could, and that was the one person that he had wanted to impress the most. The one person that he had been in awe of and looked up to from the first time that he had laid eyes on him – Seto Kaiba.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Jounouchi walked over to take a seat by the windows, the clock on the wall showing him that he had more than two hours before the first bell. Crossing his arms on the desk and laying his head down, he wondered to himself if his friends would be shocked to know the real reason that he had wanted so badly to learn the game of Duel Monsters. Sure, it had eventually led to his ability to pay for his sister Shizuka's eye surgery, but in all fairness, that was not the reason that he had become so fascinated with the game in the first place. The truth was, he had secretly known about Kaiba's obsession with the game before he had come that day to the Kame Game Shop, and even knew that he was national champion. He had been doing research; trying to find something he had in common with the young CEO – a means to approach the older boy and start a friendly conversation. A way to get himself NOTICED.

It had not worked out that way, however. The young man who had left him 'star-struck' with his power and seeming ability to handle any situation, had turned a cold shoulder, finding it preferable to throw insults and taunts instead of extending the hand of friendship. It had left Jou confused and deeply hurt – at first he thought, maybe, as time went on and he got better at the game, that the blue-eyed 'iceberg' might thaw a bit, but the opposite was true. The taunts and insults had only gotten worse as his skills increased, and the only way he could hide the hurt was by turning it into anger. The only thing that his efforts had brought to him was the bitter taste of rejection, more loneliness and a feeling of further isolation.

Sighing forlornly, Jounouchi wondered how his father and Seto Kaiba could make him feel like he was nothing so easily - no, LESS than nothing - with a mere look or a word. He chuckled ruefully to himself, remembering the confusion of one of the other students one day in math class when they were discussing negative numbers – he couldn't seem to grasp the theory of something being 'lower than zero'. Math had never been Jounouchi's best subject either, but he had no problem with understanding the concept of something being 'less than nothing'; he 'lived, breathed and slept' the idea every day of his life, with steadfast reinforcement by his father; whether he needed it or not.

He had tried to hate them – God knows, he had tried; tried to focus all his pain, rage and misery on the two beings that were the bane of his existence, but he couldn't. It just wasn't in him to hate, and that was the crux of his problem. With hatred came a ruthless kind of strength – a strength that knew no mercy, no kindness – that brokered no leeway in getting to a goal. With that kind of strength he could break his body free of his father's power over him, but what would he be giving up for that freedom? Would the price he paid be worth it? If it meant becoming LIKE his father in order to escape his father, was he willing to do that? He shuddered at the thought.

Thinking of his father led his thoughts directly to the other person that seemed to despise the very ground he walked on – Seto Kaiba. He had wanted so desperately to win the older boy's respect – Seto, on the outside, resembled Jou's father so much in mannerisms and attitude, and yet, Jounouchi knew he was really nothing like him. He could tell by the way the brunet looked at and spoke to his younger brother – how much care he took with him. Just as Jou's sister was everything to him, Mokuba was equally important to Seto. The blond teen understood that. He also understood that, just as he had been pondering over the price he was willing to pay for his freedom, that somewhere along the way the other boy must have puzzled over the answer to the same question. The only difference was he had been willing to sacrifice what Jou could not – but was it really gone? He didn't think so. Just as he had turned his hurt into rage, he believed that Seto had redirected his into forming supposedly unbreakable emotional defenses – that was the reason he kept trying to reach out – to shatter the permafrost that seemed to have a hold on his classmate's heart. He saw too much of what he could become in the other youth. He COULDN'T let it go.

Somewhere along the way though, he had exhausted most of his options, seeming to find stumbling blocks no matter which direction that he took with the seventeen-year old computer genius – as determined as he was to climb over the psychological ramparts he had constructed as protective walls, Jou found the other just as determined to repel the assault, leaving him at a loss as to how to continue and wondering, dejectedly, if he had made any headway at all.

Now, facing his father's emotional blackmail, Jounouchi wasn't sure that he had enough stamina to wage a war on two fronts, and that uncertainty frightened him. It was as if he were caught in an invisible quagmire – the more he struggled, the deeper he was drawn in and the weaker he became; and to compound the problem, his father was, slowly but surely, forcing him to cut all the tethers to any life-lines he might have.

With a soft sigh, the autumn blond closed his eyes tightly– he didn't know if the cause was from lack of food or from thinking too hard, but whatever it was it had left him with a terrible headache and a case of severe depression. Deciding that he was not likely to find himself the recipient of anymore unwanted trouble, at least within the time span of the next two hours, and trying to ease the persistent throbbing in his head, he willed himself to let his body relax and soon drifted off into a fitful sleep.

From outside, soft green eyes watched the boy with concern through the slightly smudged, fingerprint-laden glass of the classroom door. The solitary figure remained, silent and unmoving, until the sound of gentle snoring reached its ears, then it swiftly departed, disappearing down the badly lit corridor.

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