Yu-Gi-Oh is the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi and Konami, and is being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect is intended by this fanfiction.

Author's Note:
This fiction, the sequel KP Duty, strives to follow canon characterizations and events as presented in the unedited anime. However, because two key characters (Pegasus and Gozaburo) have been purposefully distorted, these stories are unquestionably AU.

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Coming Clean, Chapter 4: Balcony
by Animom

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He checked the security system readings twice: fence, outer doors, elevator, lab hallway door, workroom door, and the door to the room with the VR equipment. All six locks were engaged. Satisfied he wouldn't be ambushed, he stripped, pulled on the skin-tight biosensor suit, and stepped carefully into the VR pod.

"Alright Millie, load Tantalus version 17e," he said as he began to attach the leads from the Sensory Interface panel to the suit.

"Rendition?" Millie asked.

"What's available?"

"Humanoid characters are wireframe. 78% of the props have full rendering. Do you want breakdowns by category?"

"No. I'm primarily testing character interaction and sensory interface, but I can compensate." He fit the helmet over his head. "Start sequence." The pod cover came down, and he heard the soft hiss as it locked and switched to its dedicated power and life-support system. He closed his eyes and –

– when he opened them he was standing in a wood, on a narrow path paved with the golden-brown of last year's pine needles. It was early on a spring morning: the air was cool, the sun warm, and the tree branches were studded with leaf buds. He took a deep breath and started to walk, then pressed his thumbs together to activate the memo sub-channel: "Item: Olfactory input missing."

"Reload?" Millie asked.

"No. Check for compile errors. Or suit malfunction." It might be time to fire some of his technicians.

After a few moments, the path came to a large clearing around the base of an enormous tree. He ran his fingers over the tree's rough, deeply grooved bark. "Item: Tactile improved. Glove overlay ghosting."

He sat gingerly on the moss at the base of the tree and rested his hands on his knees. It was peaceful. He had never been able to relax in the "nature" of the real world—it was too open—but here, his physical body protected by seven locks, he felt safe. He reclined against the tree's bulging roots, and squinted up at the intensely blue sky above the massive, foreshortened trunk. He closed his eyes and waited for characters to appear.

A sudden rustle, and he snapped awake, automatically reaching to take a card from his Duel Disk—but of course, he wasn't wearing it, this was not a dueling world. He sat quietly and after a moment the sound came again. A movement of leaves, and something emerged from the bushes to his right.

Four legs, brindled brown and black fur. A long tail curved high over its back. A short muzzle, and black eyes. A wolf? No, a dog. As it came warily toward him he held his fist out, as he'd read was proper. The dog sniffed at his hand for almost a minute, then flopped down with its head on his thigh, watching him.

"You are a new template."

The dog blinked and its tail wagged over its back like a feather flag. Its dark eyes offered him fealty.

He wasn't sure if he had ever had a pet before his parents died, but he certainly understood the bond people spoke of with animals: it was likely to be a lesser version of the bond he had with his Blue Eyes. He slowly stroked the dog's thick fur. It was well-cared for: was the owner nearby?

A deep, amused voice spoke. "I see that Kee has found a new whelp for her litter. Or is this a bear cub too young to escape up the tree?"

Startled, he jumped up. Two men and a woman, composed only of the green lines of wireframe, had come into the clearing, flanking him, preventing escape. The woman and one of the men drew short wireframe swords. The dog danced around his feet, barking in excitement.

"They do say, lord," the woman said with a low laugh, "that some of the trees in this wood bear strange blossoms."

A third man—to Kaiba's surprise, fully rendered—entered the clearing. Dressed in light armor and helm, he folded his arms and contemplated Kaiba, then whistled softly. A horse picked its way out of the brush to his side. "What are you doing here?" he asked Kaiba, pulling off his gauntlets and putting them in a saddlebag.

"Item: Ryuken variable flags. Item: Digitized speech modulation," Kaiba commented, then asked, "Who the hell are you to question me?"

"Who am I?" The armored vest went into the bag, and then he pulled off his helm. His long blond hair was tied back loosely with a strip of leather.

Kaiba raised an eyebrow. The blond hair was clearly a bug—all of the characters at this stage of development were supposed to have green hair and eyes if rendered to anything other than wireframe—and the last time a VR programs had deviated from the script he had found himself a prisoner of the Five. On the other hand, he was confident in the security he'd put in place for Tantalus. This was just a cosmetic bug, after all: since the starting point for the scenario had been the exchange he'd with Jounouchi at Duelist Kingdom, he must have inadvertently entered the corresponding hair color code. There was no reason not to finish testing the behavior triggers. "Yes, I asked who are you?"

The blond walked slowly towards him. "I am Lord Ryuken. This is my forest. Now give me a good reason why you are here." He stopped in front of Kaiba. His eyes were light brown.

I must have been half-asleep when I programmed this, Kaiba thought with a grimace. "Item: Ryuken skin debug eye and hair color value." He cleared his throat, then said, carefully enunciating, "The standards for daimyou must have fallen if someone like you can become a lord." First trigger.

Ryuken reached out and took hold of Kaiba's shirt. "Are you insulting me?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

Triggers seem to be working. His heart pounding, Kaiba put his hand on Ryuken's wrist (second trigger), then spoke the third trigger. "I could break you."

"Or, instead," Ryuken said, "We could grapple thus?" He pushed Kaiba against the tree and kissed him.

After a moment Kaiba turned his head to the side and shouted, "Abort! Abort!"

– his hands flailed, then pressed the pod canopy release. He sat up gasping. Hard mouth. Strong hands. "Item," he panted, annoyed to find his heart pounding. "Item: test character output levels."

Millie said, "Sensory Interface has no detectable glitches. Pressure, GSR, temperature, texture mapping—all per your program settings."

He supposed he should call this first full test a success—even though what he'd just experienced was an order of magnitude more powerful than he'd expected it to be. "I don't care what diagnostics say. The input to my suit was too high. I experienced tactile overload. Run more diagnostics on the Sensory Interface. Contact the R&D department and see if they can get someone intelligent to test the functions this time. Have them test the biosensors too," he grumbled as he gingerly peeled the suit down. "And add a Task Item: design an in-game interface to adjust input signal strength."

He was still making notes when the phone rang.

"What?"

"Kaiba?"

"Mai?" Now what did she want? Having her work in the test lab at KaibaLand he could tolerate, but—calls to his private line were unacceptable.

"Can we talk about what happened the other day?"

"The other day?"

"While I got trapped with the others in the Virtual Reality world?"

It had been unfortunate that she'd been testing when he'd gone into the rigged VR game that his Board of Directors had set for him, as he hadn't been able to defeat the Five God Dragon before Mai was digitized. Of course, the Idiot Five had been too stupid to auto-delete the scratch file, and so the lost players were easily retrieved at the end of the game: still, he knew from talking to Mokuba that the de-digitizing experience had been almost as bad as having one's soul removed. He would not willingly put anyone through that—anyone not an enemy. "That was sabotage by former employees." He added grudgingly, "I realize it was unpleasant."

"I've thought of a way you can make it up to me."

"Oh?"

"I want you to come to a party I'm having in a few days."

"No. I'll write you a check. Compensation for your ... pain."

"Very funny," she said with a laugh. "It's a costume party, but," she said quickly, cutting off his protests, "You don't have to do a thing other than show up. I've got something for you to change into when you get here. And just so we're clear—I'm not taking 'No' for an answer."

"The costume—it doesn't come with a leash, does it?" he asked.

Her laughter was an orange-gold ripple. "Oh, no, no. Trust me, everyone will love it."

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He soon knew how condemned men felt waiting for their death sentences to be carried out: every day the party was closer, until finally it was The Day.

An hour before he was supposed to leave for Mai's his private line rang.

"Yes?"

"You're not thinking of calling in sick to my party, are you? Going back on your word?"

Although he had been mulling those very things, he snapped, "Of course not."

"Good. See you in an hour."

He took his blue brocade duster from the wardrobe and attached a KaibaCorp communicator to the lapel. The silver KC logo would beep and flash red if he got a call, and the integrated microphone-speaker allowed him to talk almost anywhere. He was hoping that the tests of the Sensory Interface module and the biosensor suit would finish tonight: since the techs had standing orders to contact him immediately with test results, he was counting on the call to give him an excuse to escape the torture of the party.

He arrived at Mai's precisely at 20:00. She answered the door, though it took him a moment to recognize her. She was wearing a long, dark blue wig (held in place with a wide ornamental headband) while her curves were hugged by a pleated sheath of green silk. She held a large purple scythe.

He nodded. "Hibikime."

"You like?" She smiled, set her scythe next to the door, and turned to give him the 360 degree view of her costume.

"Very accurate."

"Come this way, I've got yours in my bedroom."

It was hot in the apartment—unfortunately much too hot to wear his coat, even if costume Mai provided was minimal. No matter: he'd just carry his coat around until his phone call came. As they squeezed through the mass of people in her living room toward a narrow hallway he noticed a high percentage of women dressed as either Commencement Dance or Performance of Sword. There were also several Empress Judges and a Princess of Tsurugi, and a number of masked Ansatsu. He didn't recognize anyone he knew other than Yugi's grandfather, who though costumed as the Stern Mystic looked anything but stern as he ogled a Dark Witch reading his palm. Yugi was nowhere to be seen.

When they came to the end of the hallway, Mai opened the door to a dimly lit room. "Ignore the mess," she said cheerfully. Pulling a small duffel from underneath the bed, she unzipped it and took out a pair of black leather pants and a silky white shirt. "I can't wait to see you in these," she bubbled. "There's talcum powder on the dresser—sprinkle some on your legs before you put the pants on, it'll help them go on easier. Oh, and," she took a small package from the bag, "this will help too." She wiggled fingers at him as she left. "Hurry out."

He locked the door. A deep breath did little to settle the roiling in his stomach. At least the evening would be finite.

The small package of "this" Mai had provided was a stretchy black low-slung thong. He was dubious, but reluctantly tried it on anyhow. Though it felt non-existent it seemed as functional as his briefs. He shook some of the powder into his palm, then stroked it over his thighs, a surprisingly pleasant sensation. He then pulled the leather pants on. They were stiff at first, and almost uncomfortably tight, but as the leather warmed it molded to him and became merely snug instead of constrictive . It was an interesting sensation, different than the feather-light biosensor suit. Odd, but pleasant... actually, very pleasant, in fact. He unzipped and did some cautious re-arranging. Undoubtedly this sort of reaction was the source of the association of leather with sexual activity.

The white shirt turned out to be the worst piece of the costume—it had ties at the wrist, but no buttons at all up the front. Not that his shaking hands could have handled buttons anyhow. But what was he so nervous about, other than having people he didn't care about laugh at how ludicrous he looked? He overlapped the halves of the shirt front and tucked them tightly into his pants, but as soon as he moved the shirt gaped open. Did Mai have anything anywhere in this clutter that he could use to keep his shirt closed?

Nothing he could see in the bedroom. He quickly put his street clothes into the duffel and added his coat, folded with the communicator on top. He leaned against the door, composing himself. I gave my word. I do not go back on my word. "I will conquer my fear. My fear will pass through me, and when it is gone, only I will remain." Then he unlocked and opened the door.

The roar and heat of the party seemed to have doubled. He made his way down the hallway, head down, eyes averted, holding his shirt closed at the throat with his free hand and using the duffel like the prow of an icebreaker to part the crowd. When he came to the living room he saw a rolltop desk next to the French doors. Desks had staplers. He started to squeeze his way through the crowd.

What felt like an hour later he reached the desk. He rummaged, and found a paper clip. He was folding the edges of the shirt together to clip them closed when he heard a familiar voice nearby: Mazaki Anzu. He looked up, and had just enough time to register that she was dressed as Magician of Faith before she squealed, "Jou-kun! You look great!"

Jounouchi had come into the living room costumed as Kagemusha of the Blue Flame. Loose green sashed pants, no shirt. When he raised his hand and waved, muscles flowed in his arm and chest. His blond hair was pulled back into a high messy ponytail.

Kaiba's first thought was that Jounouchi looked far better half-undressed than he would have imagined. His second thought was that he needed to get out of the room immediately.

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He fled through the French doors onto the balcony, which ran the entire length of the apartment. There was an oasis of shadow and silence just past the light spilling through the apartment's windows. He put the bag down and stood in the darkness, watching Domino City wink below, trying to shut out that part of his brain that kept blaring over and over So it was an accident that you coded Ryuken to look like Jounouchi?

"No, it's was coincidence." He took slow, deliberate breaths. "Either way, it's of no consequence."

At least his escape had been unnoticed. It was optimal, actually: he had been seen by Mai, thus fulfilling his obligation to be present in "costume." All he need do now was wait for the call that would give him an excuse to leave. He looked over the rail: unfortunately, he'd have to leave Mai's apartment the way he'd come, as eight stories was a bit much to drop.

He watched the traffic lights far below: little Josephson junctions. Car headlights as electrons. Taillights? Hm, Doppler-shifted electrons, maybe ...

The French doors opened: Jounouchi. "Hey, there you are! Anzu said you ran out here." He walked over and stood on the other side of the pool of light. "Interesting costume Mai picked for you. What card are ya supposed to be?" He rested his forearms on the railing.

Kaiba reminded himself that this was the moron who wore a dog suit on TV last week, and focused on the resentment he felt over the invasion of his solitude. "No idea," he said coldly.

"I'm Kagemusha. I woulda rather been Flame Swordsman," Jounouchi said with an embarrassed half-laugh. "But Mai said the helmet would be too hard to make, and she talked me into this. Mai's costume is pretty good, don't ya think?"

Not knowing what else to do, Kaiba nodded once. Why was Jounouchi out there? Was he going to stay? With all the room on the balcony, why did he have to stand so close?

A blessed silence then, as apparently Jounouchi had run out of things to say and was forced to pretend to be interested in the sight of dark treetops. He Jounouchi shivered. "Kinda chilly tonight."

Kaiba glared from the corner of his eye at the jutting shoulder blades, the hint of ribs. "Idiot." Before he could stop himself he reached down, took his coat from the duffel, and held it out. "Here."

Clearly surprised, Jounouchi warily said, "Thanks," then reached across the pool of light to take the coat. "Nice shirt you're wearing," he said as he slipped into the coat, "Classy. But why a paper clip?"

"No buttons."

"Aw, there's gotta be ties in there. Pirate shirts always have little strings—I'll show ya," he said, and before Kaiba could move the blond had stepped close, pulled the paper clip off, and had his hand inside the shirt, rummaging. He stared as Jounouchi pulled out a thin cord from inside the shirt and threaded it though small holes in the shirt. How had he missed that?

"See? All better," Jounouchi said cheerfully, then stepped away, now standing in the center of the light.

Why does he keep talking to me? Looking at me? And—that with the shirt? Why does it seem that it was just a reason to touch me? Is he standing closer now than he was before?

He didn't like not understanding what was going on, and that made him queasy. He gripped the railing so hard the metal almost cut into his palms.

He might have remained paralyzed for hours if it hadn't been for his coat. Or rather, the communicator on the lapel, which began to blink. A little shaft of fear slammed into his stomach as Jounouchi turned to face him. He swallowed, then stepped over the duffel, murmured, "Don't talk," pressed the communicator between his thumb and finger, and bent forward to speak.

"Yes?"

"Kaiba-shachou? Sorry to disturb you sir, but we've just finished the tests you ordered."

He continued to hold the coat as he listened to the tech run through the test results. Well, he attempted to listen, but his mind kept wandering ... it was very distracting, the way Jounouchi's breath bathed his left ear with warmth with every exhale. Amend that: every forceful exhale. Did he always breathe that hard? Wait—wasn't accelerated respiration a sign of sexual excitement?

With that thought Kaiba's mouth went dry. The formula for the gravitational force popped in to his head: attraction is inversely proportional to the square of the distance between two bodies … this close, Jounouchi's body definitely radiated heat.

He came back to himself as the tech finished and said crisply, ''I'll expect to see a summary report e-mailed to me before you go home tonight," realizing as he spoke that he was grandstanding.

"Yes sir."

He added, "Good work."

"Thank you!" The astonishment in her voice came though clearly.

Then the tech rang off, but Kaiba still held the coat, his head bowed, unable to let go. A breeze blew a strand of Jounouchi's hair against his face. He hated feeling this stupid, this unsure of what to do.

"Kaiba?" Jounouchi asked quietly.

Kaiba straightened up and looked down at him, the illumination enough to see that Jounouchi's expression was slightly puzzled.

It was infuriating, not knowing how to interpret anything. There was no way to know if Jounouchi was attracted to him. And what if he was? What then? Was he supposed to wait for a clear signal, for Jounouchi to make the first move? He knew the triggers for Ryuken, what to say to activate each particular programmed response, but this wasn't VR. There was no way he could abort and reload.

On the other hand, he suddenly wanted to know what it was like to kiss a real person, and so, despite the danger of miscalculation, he thought back to what he'd read about the flirting sequence proceed. Eye contact was frequently mentioned as an initiator: they already had that. Subliminal indicators of receptivity was a reasonable next step, and so he took a deep breath, as he exhaled parting his lips a fraction of an inch. Parted lips were supposed to indicate willingness to kiss.

If he hadn't been watching so carefully, he would have missed the widening of the brown eyes. That was a reaction of surprise, even shock, and he felt a twist of panic: had he misjudged? Well, he'd see soon enough, if Jounouchi stopped the sequence by stepping back. He leaned forward the tiniest bit, his heart beginning to thud, still expecting Jounouchi to back away: but the next moment one corner of Jounouchi's wide mouth curved up in and he leaned forward, putting his hand on Kaiba's arm.

Just before they made contact Kaiba could have sworn he heard a roar.

(Years later, every detail accompanying those first slow, tentative sips was still indelibly clear: the faint sound of each kiss like a raindrop on a leaf. The blurred sight of Jounouchi's eyes closing. The feel of the communicator's metal letters under his thumb. The faint aroma of cigarette smoke from the blond's hair.)

A shadow moved in his peripheral vision: he let go of the communicator and stepped away, startled. Mai was at the French doors, twisting the wand to close the blinds. Had she seen them? He heard a quiet click: locking the doors to the balcony?

He turned back to Jounouchi, who was frozen in place, his eyes still closed, his jaw and mouth tilted up, like a blind thing mutely seeking the sun … "Is that how you always end phone calls?" he murmured, opening his eyes with a sleepy smile. When Kaiba didn't reply, he said, "Hang me up again."

As he reached out to take the coat lapel again Jounouchi quickly closed the space between them, taking hold of his upper arms to pull them together.

Tantalize: To tease or torment by presenting something desirable but continually out of reach.

Not out of reach now, as they were kissing again now, more firmly. When Jounouchi's mouth opened wider Kaiba copied him; when Jounouchi slid his tongue into Kaiba's mouth and their tongues touched a quicksilver flutter went through him, a shower of sparks that turned molten as they descended. It was seemed as though Jounouchi was not going to run he gathered his courage and slid his right hand around to the back of Jounouchi's head and up into his bound hair, curving his fingers around a handful, marveling. This was nothing like he would have imagined it—but then how could he have imagined that something so improbable would happen? that Jounouchi Katsuya, the noisy trash who he was sure hated him, would do anything other than bark angrily at him? It felt unreal, as if he were weightless, racing at light speed toward an exhilarating unknown—and yet he also felt more present than he had in weeks or perhaps even years, completely aware of every muscle and bone, how gravity held his feet to the balcony … the solidity of the warm body pressed against him, thigh to thigh, chest to chest, arms now holding him tight. As Jounouchi held his face, kissing his jaw, his throat, a detached part of him filed away the sensations pounding through him, how fast his heart was beating, how ragged his breathing had become, how quickly he was becoming aroused.

Jounouchi's lips were brushing his ear, and then he was whispering, "This is good." Now his tongue was tracing the edge of Kaiba's ear; now he was lightly biting the earlobe lightly before sucking it. At Kaiba's almost inaudible gasp Jounouchi shifted his weight from side to side, rubbing himself purposefully against the hardening ridge in Kaiba's leather pants. His hands slid down over the curve of Kaiba's ass and then suddenly grabbed him hard, fingers digging deep into the leather cleft, as if to tear the seams open.

The cumulative pleasure from all this was so intense that Kaiba's knees almost gave out. He thought I want to keep doing this. I wish we were far from here. In my bed. In any bed. Or anywhere ... A flood of images came then, of hands and mouths and skin and masked faces, and his head cleared.

What the hell was he thinking, getting carried away like this? He abruptly drew back, studying the dimly-lit face before him. The usual expression that so often annoyed him—pugnacious and naive—was gone. In its place was a sensuous, wolf-like confidence, eyes half closed, a faint, contented smile. Jounouchi leaned forward to nuzzle his neck, making small questioning noises as he tugged at the leather pants. "More?" It was demand as much as question.

Kaiba closed his eyes and shivered: this was a fantasy come to life, someone seemingly impatient with desire for him, but he was probably right to mistrust it. It was too sudden. Jounouchi wouldn't have gone from hostile or indifferent to—different—so fast unless ... He's setting you up the acid voice inside of him asserted. Drawing you out to make a fool of you. Waiting until you're on your knees blowing him before calling the others out here to witness your submission. It's the anticipation of humiliating you that's got him so turned on, hot at the idea of getting back at you for all those times you slapped him down.

And yet ... Was he being too suspicious? Was there was a chance it was genuine? He had to be objective, not let either lust or fear cloud the facts. He was sure that, had this happened at school, it would be a prank engineered by Jounouchi and his friend Honda, but Mai had planned the party, she had picked the costumes, and she seemed to be trying to give the two of them privacy, if that was indeed why she'd closed the blinds a moment ago. He couldn't believe she'd be involved in such a take-down.

Well, he'd never find out what was going on by just standing here. "More? How much more?" he asked, his pulse thundering in his throat.

"Whatever you—" Jounouchi began, slipping one finger inside the waistband to touch fevered skin.

Loud noises erupted in the apartment, and the French doors rattled. Yugi and Mai were shouting.

Jounouchi pulled away from him. "Oh shit!" he said hoarsely. He yanked off the coat and shoved it at Kaiba. "Quick, put this on."

"Why?" he asked. "I wasn't wearing it when I came out here."

"Doesn't matter. And button it," Jounouchi barked. At Kaiba's look he said more quietly, "Because it looks like ya got a friggin' lead pipe in your pants. They don't need to know—"

The French doors flew open just as he shrugged into the coat.

"My costume is loose, and hides stuff better," Jounouchi added under his breath. "Hey, guys what's up?" he said easily, turning to them.

Kaiba, facing the the lights of downtown Domino, buttoned his duster as unobtrusively as he could, his face burning. Now he'd find out what the game was. He braced himself for Jounouchi to say something like, "Guess what everyone! Kaiba's a total homo!"

"What's going on out here?" Yugi demanded, using his rough "dueling voice" and not his usual cheery tenor. "Mai," he said with a snap of hostility, "seemed to think it was appropriate to lock her balcony doors even after I commented that you were unaccounted for."

"What's the big deal?" Jounouchi asked.

"With all the recent kidnappings and sudden disturbances in this group, I was naturally concerned when I noticed that you were missing," Yugi said.

"Aww, well ya can see there's no problem," Jounouchi replied. "And anyhow, I had Mister Martial Arts here to protect me from evildoers."

"But why was Kaiba out here?" Yugi asked in a chill, silky tone.

It seemed that Dark was even more jealously possessive of Jounouchi than Mutou was. "Headache," Kaiba said, his back still to the others. "I came out here for the quiet. Unfortunately a noisy stray followed me. It might be wise, Mai," he turned, folding his arms as a dozen more guests flowed though the doors, "to spray for fleas."

Jounouchi blustered. "Why you arrogant, stinkin' son of a—I was just trying to be sociable!"

As the guests laughed Yugi pursed his lips. In the dim light his shadowed face seemed twisted with emotion. "How fortunate that you had a secluded place to retreat to, Kaiba," his eyes flicked over them critically—and did his glance linger below the waist?—"and such a pleasant companion to pass the time."

"I appreciate your concern," he sniped back. "However, my technicians just called with some important test results, so I'll be going."

Mai turned around. "Okay people, move along, nothing to see here. It's time for the buffet."

As he went inside Jounouchi followed close behind him, pushing against his back as if impatient.

It told him enough.

.

He kept his face carefully impassive until he was back in Mai's bedroom, then locked the door, and pressed his fists to his forehead, unsuccessfully fighting a grin. He felt shaky, but in a completely different way than before. Unbelievable. Not only hadn't Jounouchi told, he'd covered.

"Come home with me," Kaiba whispered, practicing. His groin gave a warning twitch. He'd better slow down. N to the third: 1, 8, 27, 64, 125, 216, 343, 512, 729, 1000, 1331 … He unbuttoned the duster, then unzipped and stepped out of the leather pants to contemplate his situation. He had to delay his body, so he squeezed himself ruthlessly, to the point of pain, then pulled his briefs on over everything. He'd wear the shirt home and have it laundered before returning it to Mai.

He heard soft footsteps and low voices outside the door. A soft knock. "Kaiba?"

It was Mai: he froze. Did I lock the door?

"Probably in the bathroom." Jounouchi.

"Probably." A pause, then he heard her ask, very quietly, "So how did it go?"

He moved noiselessly as close to the door as he dared.

"Man, it was something. By the end," the deeper voice said softly. "I just wanted ta ..." It sounded like he growled.

Kaiba grinned again. His face was starting to hurt; he wasn't accustomed to smiling.

Another sudden knock startled him. "Kaiba? Are you OK in there?"

He held his breath and stood perfectly still.

After a few seconds he heard Mai murmur, "Still busy in the bathroom, I guess. So it wasn't what you expected?"

"Well, considering—" Party noise blotted out the rest of the sentence.

"Really?" She sounded surprised.

"He freaked when everyone barged out there," Jounouchi said.

After that Kaiba went to the far corner of the room, pulled on his pants, re-buttoned his duster, picked up his duffel, and opened the door.

They were still in the hall. Jounouchi was tenderly tucking a strand of Mai's blue wig behind her ear.

Mai smiled when she saw him. "Kaiba, can I talk you into staying just a little longer? I've just put out the buffet."

He glanced at Jounouchi. Wolf was gone: the brown eyes looked a bit abashed.

"I have to go." Now they just needed a moment alone so that he could ask Jounouchi to follow.

"Oh," she said. "Well, if duty calls ..." Her small mouth drooped in a small pout.

"I left the pants on the bed. I'll have the shirt dry-cleaned. What do I owe you for the—other?" He could not bring himself to say it.

"Oh, consider it my treat." The pout disappeared as she smiled. "Everyone enjoyed seeing you in such an appealing costume, even if it was just briefly. Several of my girlfriends even asked about you." Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she added, "the handsome mystery man."

Was she was making fun of him? No, she was sincere. No wonder Jounouchi was crazy about her.

And Jounouchi was crazy about her. It was very obvious: even he, who knew so little about such activities that he had had to research them, even he could see that Jounouchi loved Mai, that they were a couple.

And with that a completely different interpretation of the conversation he had just overheard fell into place. "So it wasn't what you expected?" Experimentation. Why hadn't it occurred to him sooner? Costumes. Jounouchi's uncharacteristic behavior. Mai preventing anyone else from interrupting them on the balcony—the whole party had been a setup. Maybe it was Jounouchi helping Mai fulfill a voyeuristic fantasy of watching two guys kiss, or Mai helping her boyfriend Jounouchi scratch an itch ... the motivation didn't matter. Once again he had completely misread a situation involving "interpersonal relations" and jumped to false conclusions. Well, at least he had figured it out before making a fool of himself.

Crestfallen, not trusting himself to speak, he pushed past them quickly, dimly registering Mai saying goodbye. He was going to focus on getting out the door. He was going to ignore everything else. He was not going to turn around. Powers of seven: 7, 49, 343, 2401, 16807, 117649, 823543, 5764801 ...

The door slammed behind him and echoed in the empty hall. He usually took the stairs, but this time decided to wait for the elevator. Of course he was loitering. Why pretend otherwise? Even though it was pointless, he still indulged a tiny hope that Jounouchi would come out after him.

The elevator came. It was empty; he let it go.

He heard an apartment door open, and his heart leapt, but he forced himself not to turn around. But it was only one of Mai's neighbors, carrying trash to the incinerator.

He punched the down button, and watched morosely as the elevator came and went a second time.

He should have known better. He could almost hear Gozaburo's voice: "You made the same mistake twice, Seto? Plan on a career as dishwasher, then: that's the only job for someone of such low intelligence."

Furious, he jabbed the elevator button again and again until the doors opened and he could descend to the street and his waiting limo.

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He calculated cube roots on the ride home, disciplining himself with numbers as he nodded to the driver, as he climbed the stairs, as he checked on the sleeping Mokuba.

But once he stripped and stepped into the shower, he let it all flood out.

"Hot."

What had he been expecting?

"Nothing! I expected nothing! I should have expected nothing!" He poured out his disappointment until he was hoarse, then rolled it into a ball and shoved it deep inside him. So now he knew what it felt like to be the recipient of someone's desire. Unfortunately, it had only been a temporary condition. He had been a handy object to satisfy a curiosity. A product sample. A lab rat.

What next? He held his face up to the spray.

Well, clearly, there was no next. It had been a one-time thing. Mai and Jounouchi had got what they wanted. I'm sure they'll get an extra laugh over how fast I fell for it. The cold fish Kaiba Seto, moaning and clutching and grinding. He could imagine the jeers and comments that would circulate at school. Fortunately, he'd completed all the exercises in all of his textbooks months ago, and didn't have to go in until examinations. Would it be forgotten by then? No, of course not. Seto Kaiba the Clueless Faggot would be too juicy a topic to die quickly.

He gritted his teeth as he reached for the soap. Well, there was no undoing it. He'd been stupid, there would be consequences … or would there? He could claim that nothing had happened, that he had called Jounouchi's bluff. No one except Mai had seen them touching. Yugi's Dark seemed as though he suspected there had been more than talk, but he had no proof. And Jounouchi might not even say anything, keep the escapade secret.

Good that he hadn't gone too far, then. It gave them less ammunition to use against him.

He stepped from the shower and reached for a towel.

And the night needn't be written off as a total waste. Not if he turned it into data, a benchmark to identify where the Tantalus program and the biosensor suit needed more work. Right now, the program was still too rough to compete with "the real thing" (which was why kissing Jounouchi had been so satisfying). Texture mapping would definitely need to be adjusted. (Lips are sometimes slightly chapped.) He'd far underestimated the number of nerve endings that needed to be stimulated. (Earlobes had never occurred to him.) He needed to introduce an element of random motion whenever there was full-torso contact. And temperature variance: he hadn't realized that bare skin gave off so much heat. It meant a lot more work than he'd estimated, but it would all pay off in the final product: once he perfected sight and sound and touch and taste and smell Tantalus would provide complete immersion. It would take effort to remember that it wasn't real. In fact, it would be better than real, because he—users—could be touched without pain and humiliation being involved. There would be no ambiguity about intentions because, unlike people, computer programs did what they were programmed to.

As he pulled on his pajamas he nodded decisively. Proceeding with Tantalus was the logical thing to do. As he placed the white shirt atop his dresser his eyes fell on the dragon netsuke. "When the poison is overcome, the lines will change, the time of darkness will pass, and the light will return."

"Hn. Sure it will."

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~ to be continued ~

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(122) 2 September 2013