Jounouchi woke up next to a dumpster.

Various things occurred to him at once: every inch of him felt like it had been tied in knots all night, he could taste blood on his lips, and he was ravenously hungry. He checked his watch. It was six a.m., so he'd slept for… what, three hours? He was feeling pretty damn good, given the situation, and so he gave a huge, content yawn, and stretched out his aching body. His joints all popped. He'd had a crushed cardboard box as his mattress and a jacket to cover him, so it had been uncomfortable. But most nights were.

He rolled over, then dragged himself to his feet, rubbing his eyes blearily. He had a plan for this morning, and he needed to get going as soon as possible. So he pulled off his blazer and still-bloodstained shirt, then dug around in his bag for the shirt he'd put in there only a few hours before. He pulled it on, smoothed his front down to hide the majority of its creases, then put back on his blazer and jacket. He didn't have a mirror, but he could hope that he was looking sharp. He gave his face a quick wipe down with the cleanest part of his bloody shirt, then discarded it, tossing it into the dumpster. He wasn't fond of throwing things away, but that shirt had seen far better days.

Grabbing his bag, he set off, strolling down the alleyway with such self-assurance that it was obvious this was all perfectly routine and normal for him. When he emerged onto the streets proper, the sun had already risen, and it was blazing clear and bright in the crystalline sky. This was definitely, beyond a doubt, a good omen. Today was going to be a good day.

There was hardly anybody else out yet - he passed a few people: dog walkers, businessmen, newspaper kids, who smiled to him. Some said good morning. He felt like part of some secret club, whose members woke up at ungodly hours because they had important things to do. He liked it. And nobody was staring at his face in horror, so obviously he couldn't have looked too beat up.

He kept on walking, stretching out his sore legs, and then suddenly he made a sharp left down a side street. The drugstore was down here. He hadn't intended to pick up his pills, but he figured it'd probably be a good idea. He stopped at its door, and checked the little sign in the window - "Open 6am - 6pm weekdays." It was around a quarter past six. His luck was definitely picking up, he thought with a grin, as he pushed open the door (its bell tinkled and announced his arrival) and stepped inside.

The little shop was cramped with shelves full of various medicines and ointments. There was nobody here but for him and a tired-looking lady behind the counter, who was leaning back in her chair and reading a knitting magazine. After a few moments she seemed to come around to realising that there was a customer here with her, so she closed her magazine and laid it down on the counter.

"Hi," she said, and gave him a little smile, "can I help you?"

"Yeah," he said, except it didn't really come out right. Kind of sounded like he'd just barked at her. Startled, he cleared his throat. "Sorry! Uh, I got this prescription from the hospital," he said, walking up to the counter and laying down the crumpled piece of paper. She took it from him, still smiling, and smoothed it down so she could actually read what it said.

"Alright… Diclofenac, and Amoxil. I'll be right back," she said, then she turned and headed into the back room. Jounouchi stood there, mildly confused. He'd never really gotten any prescription drugs before. She came back after a few moments, and put down two pill bottles on the counter. One was small and white with a white lid. The other was a lot bigger, and it was white with a red lid.

"Uh… so. What is this stuff?"

She gave a little laugh. "Most people know what their prescription is for." Then, once she caught sight of the despondent look on his face, her grin intensified. "It's really simple, I'll explain."

Tapping the red lid of the bigger bottle, she said, "This one is Amoxil. It's an antibiotic, it'll fight infections in your nose. You have to take it once in the morning, once in the afternoon and once in the evening. Every day. For ten days. Instructions are on the label." Jounouchi nodded slowly at each new nugget of information. He was pretty sure he got it.

Then she pointed to the smaller bottle. "This is Diclofenac. It's a painkiller. Makes things hurt less, obviously. With this, you just pop one pill if you're in pain, but you shouldn't take more than four pills a day, and don't take them all in one go. One every few hours. If you overdose on either, get to the emergency room. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks a ton… oh, is this stuff free?"

"Hm? Oh, if you're under eighteen then yeah, no charge. You're under eighteen, right?"

"Yeah." And if he wasn't, he would've lied, because his wallet was more barren than the Sahara Desert. He opened up his bag, scooped the bottles inside, thanked the lady again, and left.

He felt very accomplished so far. He'd never gotten a prescription before! Now it was half six. He was hungry. So hungry. He hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, and a hungry Jounouchi was a cranky, mean one. Plus his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and his throat was like sandpaper; he needed water, too.

There was a grocery store in this part of town that he'd never really been to before, but he had always wanted to as a kid. And once he was standing outside it, he remembered why. Beneath the red and white striped awning were crates of brightly coloured fruits and vibrantly green and leafy vegetables, things he couldn't afford in a million years, but the sight and smell of them made his mouth water. The front of the store was painted bright yellow, and it was just all so cute. And so unlike anything in his usual experience of the world.

When he walked in, a man in a green apron who had been stacking shelves turned and smiled at him. "Morning! You're up early today!"

Jounouchi grinned. Everybody was so cheery, what the hell was going on? "Morning," he said, then looking slightly awestruck, he prowled the aisles looking for something he could afford to eat rather than just marvel at. He had never really been to a proper grocery store before. He had never seen this much food all in one place. And he had never been able to choose what he wanted to eat rather than just having it handed to him. He wanted to buy everything and hoard it.

Eventually he came around to realising that his budget didn't stretch quite that far, so he settled on a big bottle of strawberry flavoured water (he didn't know water came in flavours), a pot of jam and the cheapest loaf of white bread he could find. He also picked up some plastic knives because he didn't really want jam all over his hands/face/everywhere. Ten jam sandwiches for breakfast. Hell. Yes.

He practically emptied out his wallet for the clerk, who just smiled at him and handed him his paper bag full of deliciousness. His stomach roared in anticipation.

With an increasing wildness in his hungry eyes, he dashed one block over to the nearby park. By now it was approaching seven, and there were a few more people around than earlier - mostly joggers here, and nobody he recognised. That was probably for the best. He threw himself onto a bench near a little duckpond.

This quickly proved to have been a mistake. Obviously the city's ducks too had their minds set on food. With little quacks, a group of around ten of the birds advanced on him. One of them yawned widely, and then scrabbled out of the water to catch up with its friends. Jounouchi thought this was mildly cute, but still, the bastards weren't getting any of his breakfast.

But first: pills. He struggled for a moment with the child safety catches on both of the bottles, then withdrew one each of the antibiotic and the painkiller. One was blue. One was white. The bottles went back in his bag, the pills went in his mouth, and with a swig of deliciously artificial strawberry water, he swallowed them. He felt better already.

Then: food. He broke the seal on the bread, slathered a thick layer of gloopy jam onto one slice, and then mushed it with another to create the most holy of foods: the jam sandwich. He could have fainted with joy when he took the first bite. Food. Sustenance. He hadn't had one of these since he was much younger. It tasted like his childhood.

A little more insistent quacking woke him abruptly from his near-catatonic state of food euphoria. One duck was chewing at his shoelaces. He swallowed, licked crumbs from his lips, and then stared down at his little crowd.

"Geez, can't you give a guy a break?"

Quack.

So he broke off his crusts and shared them around.