Chapter 8: Dirt, Mahjong, part two
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Mokuba's elite high school had cubbies at the back of the classroom, which gave the impression it was really just like any other high school.
Inside the cubby, Mokuba shifted manuals and textbooks side to side, rearranged an umbrella, and stacked worksheets and plastic sheets filled with slides of bio samples, all over a shiny panel of glossed wood that was graffitied with the word FAG in permanent marker.
Joey had taken one look at the word and tried to open the conversation.
Being bullied, huh? Joey had asked.
Mokuba hadn't answered. Joey guessed that stating the obvious wasn't the best way to try and get a response from someone like Mokuba, but he wondered if Mokuba was just embarrassed.
Is it true? Joey had said, trying to make his voice sound light and curious. Yanno, it doesn't matter if it is.
Mokuba had turned away from the cubby, right in the middle of re-rolling up his gym socks. He very slowly set Joey with a look that seemed to communicate all the disdain the world had to offer.
Joey had been forced to step back. Now Joey was glaring at the bodyguard, Tsukuda, who seemed immune to the suggestion that Joey was trying to telepath into his head – that he should be next to engage Mokuba on the subject.
Tsukuda wouldn't say anything though. And so neither did Joey. It wasn't until they were walking through the halls that Joey found the pretence to speak again.
"Are you sure it's okay for me to be here?" Joey asked, looking back and forth down the hall. Out the window, he could see the school's athletic field. The courts for tennis and volleyball were full. The track seemed to expanded out to the horizon. And not a single blade of grass seemed to be out of place.
"Why wouldn't it be?" Mokuba asked, with his ever-present air of criticism.
Joey shrugged. But he couldn't shake the image of a teacher come barrelling out from around a corner and telling him to leave.
"This ain't exactly my alma mater, you know?" Joey said. "And it's not like I have a visitors pass either."
"It's not Tsukuda's either." Mokuba shrugged. "What are you worried about? You're with a hulking bodyguard and me."
The 'me' was said with such utter self-importance, Joey couldn't help but believe it a little.
"Come on – get in!" Mokuba jutting his head towards the door he'd pulled open, at the end of the hall. "It's not every day the Computer Club leaves the lab free."
"And why aren't you a proud member of the Computer Club, eh?" Joey teased. "Like I don't know you and your brother are total techie nerds."
Mokuba gave him a poison glare.
"That's exactly it, isn't it?" Mokuba snarled. "No matter how good I am with programming, there's no way I'm going to get better than Seto. Why would I waste my time with a bunch of stupid kids who don't even know what a VPN is?"
Joey didn't bother thinking about that too long, when there were other important things to be doing – like playing flash games from that dumb website that Yuugi had shown him, and napping in the reclining spinny chairs.
It was the sixth time the phone had rung, when Joey pulled his attention away from his hypnotic daze.
The room was empty, save for him and the rows of computers. He scooted over in his chair, before finally standing. The ringing had stopped, but Joey went to investigate anyhow.
Mokuba's phone was lying on a side table, on top of his stack of books and folders. It seemed to have collected far more than six missed calls. There was a record of nearly twenty of them, plus voicemails, all from one person. Mokuba had his brother's number listed under 'Seto' in the contacts, apparently.
Joey picked up the phone, and began to fiddle with it but, unlike his own, this one was passcode locked. He considered the keypad and realised, even if he were able to get the first combination correct, he probably wouldn't be able to access the voicemails to see what had Kaiba so worked up and bent out of shape.
It was good luck, then, that Kaiba called back again. Joey considered the ringing phone only for a moment, then glanced around the room to make sure he was alone, before flipping the phone up to his ear.
"Yo."
"Mokuba!" Kaiba shouted over his voice. He seemed to realise who had greeted him belatedly. "Wheeler?" he asked. There was a grimace in his voice. "What are you doing? Put Mokuba on the line!"
"Ah~ Mokuba stepped out," Joey said. "His phone wouldn't stop going off, though. And I saw it was you so…" Joey waved his arm to try to communicate the frustration of listening to a phone ring over and over, although Kaiba wouldn't be able to see it.
For a second there was silence on the other line. Joey wasn't quite expecting it when Kaiba finally spoke, seething.
"Wheeler. You're supposed to be with him. You're supposed to look after him."
"Hey, we're at his school!" Joey protested. "What's the worst that can happen?! Tsukuda's gotta be with him anyhow~"
Kaiba made a strangled sound on the other end of the line.
Joey sat down in the nearest chair, and clicked on the computer mouse, to bring it out of sleep mode. Between Kaiba and 3D Pinball, there should be enough to keep him entertained.
"What're you doing racking up these voicemails for anyhow?" Joey asked. "Won't you see him in person tonight?"
Kaiba just grumbled for a minute, but Joey waited patiently, and eventually Kaiba cracked.
"I get home very late. And he becomes upset when I walk his room in the middle of the night."
Joey snorted. "Of course he does," he said. "Teenagers need their space, right?"
It sounded right at least. Joey had always lived in a one room apartment... But his dad was away overnight once or twice a week on a reliable basis, and Joey had been able to take those opportunities to sneak adult videos in the VCR and enjoy some private time. And that wasn't counting all the times he'd stayed over at Honda's and Yuugi's places.
"So do you knock on his door like a normal person, or do you just bust inside?" he teased, well aware of how overbearing Kaiba could be where Mokuba was concerned.
Kaiba grumbled.
"If you go home at a normal hour, you'll be able to talk to him."
The irateness of Kaiba's grumbling increased.
"So what's got your panties in a knot?" Joey prodded. "What do you need to talk about with Mokuba so bad?"
"Mind your own business, Wheeler," Kaiba snarled.
"Aw, don't be like that, moneybags~" Joey teased. "Mokuba should be back in a couple minutes, if you want to wait."
"Wheeler," Kaiba seethed, "you are to be at Mokuba's side all times in the future and-"
"Yeah, yeah~" Joey said dismissively. "So~ Since we're stuck on the phone with each other, want to tell me about your day? Your dreams? Ambitions?"
It worked like a charm. The call cut out immediately.
Joey laughed. He tossed Mokuba's phone back on top of the pile of books, and opened the games folder on the computer, feeling in a good mood.
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It was dark outside, and Joey had seven thousand yen stuffed in his pocket when he got back to his apartment after his last day working with Yamada-san. The entire place had been gutted, and re-patched, and Yamada-san had given him an extra two thousand yen for all his troubles, part of which went towards correcting the fact that Yamada had underpaid him a thousand yen the day before. (It wasn't worth arguing with people who were tipping you, of course.)
The apartment was empty, as it had been for the last couple of days, but Joey wasn't going to be bothered by it just yet. If his dad was out playing pachinko, or had somehow scraped together enough money to hire a whore and rent a hotel room for the night – Joey couldn't care less.
He stumbled out of his shoes and socks, made sure his alarm was set, and tried not to think about making soup and coffee in the morning, even though these thoughts had the sense of warmth and boiling water that made Joey wish he could take a bath.
His futon was laid out already or, rather, not put away from the night before, and he huddled into it shortly after swallowing down the last pork bun he'd dragged home from the convenience store.
It seemed like his head had only just barely touched the pillow when the phone rang.
Joey blinked heavily. His cheek was wet. He ignored it as he grasped around for his phone.
He pulled it up to his face and glanced at the outer screen. It was thirty minutes after midnight, and he didn't recognise the phone number.
If it was work… Kaiba and Yamada-san could both fuck right off.
But-
Joey glanced up at the couch. It was ominously empty.
Joey smacked the dryness off his lips, and tried not to groan as he pried the phone open.
"Hello," he said into the line.
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The parlour was hazy and smoky and glowing with artificial light.
The loud click of tiles, the deep, potent smell of tobacco, the strain on Joey's back and the headache brought on by sleep deprivation – it felt more real than anything else he'd experienced in months.
Workers frittered away their day wages, the ill-begotten rich slung down stacks of bills and laughed with ugly teeth, and dealers moved cheerfully and confidently and unrelentingly. Joey pulled at his jean jacket and tried to pretend he didn't feel completely comfortable, as he stepped inside and between the tables.
His eyes scanned the room widely, but he found himself unwilling to look at anyone. He gripped the stack of bills in his pocket, and braced to chase away anyone who came near.
"Joey-kun!" a voice shouted. "Joey-kun!"
Joey turned and blinked. Somebody was approaching him, weaving his way through the room. Joey didn't recognise him.
"Ah, you're Joey-kun, right?" the man asked. "You're the spitting image of Kor- I mean- Delun-san." He bowed slightly. "I'm Masaru. We talked on the phone."
Joey didn't return the bow.
"That right?" Joey asked, as uninterested as he could manage. He didn't need to familiarise himself with his dad's latest herd of drinking buddies.
"Your father is over here," the man said.
He turned and Joey followed him through the room.
"Did you bring the money?" the man asked, facing forward.
It took Joey a moment to remember the man wasn't facing him, and couldn't see his shrug.
"Some."
"Ah~ You did," the man sighed contentedly.
Joey could see his dad now, collapsed over the counter on the side of the room. He stopped himself from hurrying to his dad's side, idling behind his guide. He waited until they were mere feet from his father, before stepping forward, past the man. He pressed his hand up to his father's face.
His breath felt damp, but Joey could feel the inhales and exhales, hard and strong. His father's eyes were closed, asleep. But the rings under his eyes were stained with redness and tears.
"He's been like that for a while, Joey-kun," the man spoke behind him. "I would have sent him to a hotel, but they wouldn't let him leave without sorting out the conditions of his debt."
Joey hummed contemplatively.
He pressed a hand to his father's forehead, and felt the damp, cold sweat. He grabbed his father's wrist and felt his father's pulse burst against his fingers.
"I was surprised, given his condition, that he was able to give us a working phone number."
Joey hummed in agreement. Since everything else seemed to be okay, he pulled his father up, adjusting his jacket and pulling it up over the nape of his neck.
"Yeah, he's got my number memorised. Down to the very last digit. He could recite it in his sleep."
"Because he knows you'll come for him, I'm sure," his dad's friend said proudly.
Joey didn't know what to say to that. He stepped away from his dad, holding his hands out at the ready – making sure his dad was still lying stably against the counter in his drunken state, ready to catch him if he fell.
"Delun-san is so lucky having a son like you," his dad's friend beamed. "I thought filial piety was a thing of the past, but I guess I should have expected more from the Chinese~ Confucius isn't only a memory yet!"
"Ey! Ey!" Joey protested lightly, letting his hands fall. "If I was disrespectful, you'd just blame it on the American side of things~"
This seemed to go over the man's head. He laughed casually, as if Joey had made some terrific joke.
"Ah, if I called my daughter," he lamented, "she'd just tell me to go to hell. What kind of daughter does that to her own father?!" he demanded.
Joey frowned. A deep venom and hatred burned in him suddenly.
"Oi, shut the hell up!" he told the man, glaring suddenly. "Sons are one thing, but you should at least have the decency to leave your daughters out of this crap!"
Calling Joey was one thing. But imagine calling Serenity to a place like this?!
The man looked like he wanted to argue, but he wisely chose to shut his mouth.
Joey ungrit his teeth, and released the tension in his shoulders. His fists.
He hunched over and tried not to bite his lip.
"So what the hell happened? How deep are we under?" he asked.
The man didn't look like he wanted to answer for a minute, and Joey couldn't tell if it was because he was no longer in the mood to be helpful, or because it was really that bad, but then he spoke and Joey's train of thought abruptly halted.
"I'm not sure how much, but I heard it was somewhere close to… eight hundred thousand…"
Joey gaped. He opened his mouth. Then closed it again. His hand slipped off the bills he had in his pocket.
When this man had told him on the phone to bring as much money as he had, Joey flicked through his wallet. He pulled himself up to his knees on the futon, and forced himself to the kitchen. He'd thought his dad might've found his newest hiding spot, and used the money to go gambling. But when Joey removed the plastic panelling at the bottom of the freezer, he'd been surprised to find his savings untouched. He gathered the ice cold money in his palm. He'd counted out thirty thousand yen to set aside for rent and subway fare and other necessities, and slapped the rest of his bills in his pocket, along with the money he'd received fresh out of the envelope from Yamada-san.
Altogether, it totalled eighty-seven thousand yen. Only a tenth of what his dad owed, apparently.
"Sh- Shit!" Joey said. "What the hell happened?!" he complained.
His dad's friend was making excuses, but Joey wasn't listening.
"This is bullshit! I had an agreement." Joey clicked his tongue disparagingly. "You can look after my dad for a while, yea-? Or find someone else to make sure he doesn't wake up and go walking off into more trouble?" Joey nodded firmly, before he could be denied. "I gotta go talk to Kyou-aniki."
Joey stalked off, back through the room. Behind him, his father's friend was saying something.
"You can't walk up and talk to the house admin!"
Joey snorted. Like hell he couldn't. He wasn't some green little shit. And even when he had been, it hadn't stopped him.
The light seemed to peer through, bouncing off panes of glass and the olive green walls to lead him to the back of the room. He sidestepped women in traditional clothing holding sake bottles and trays of beer, without looking at them, and let his eyes settle on the man standing in the open archway to the back room. It was a good ten paces back there, and Joey made sure to look like he belonged, when he strolled past the guard and into the enclave.
The person he was looking for was sitting at a heavy wood table, flipping through receipts, sharing pleasant conversation with the other workers at the task. He had his back towards Joey, and fanned himself with the blank side of a paper flyer.
Joey walked right up behind him. He tapped his foot. He hiked his nose up high, and looked down, looming.
Kyoutarou turned in his seat and looked up at Joey. His expression was dispassionate, but he couldn't hide the flash of light in his eyes.
Joey scowled, trying to look intimidating. They met each other's eyes for a moment, in complete silence, before the corner of Joey's mouth began to climb up in spite of himself, and a gasp of air escaped his nose in humour.
They both knew it was a joke.
Kyoutarou's face bloomed into a smile, at the same moment that Joey's did.
"Wheeler-san!" Kyoutarou rose and clasped Joey's forearm and shook it in greeting. "Wasn't expecting to see you here."
"Oh, cut the crap, aniki," Joey snorted, as he shook Kyoutarou's arm in return. "You let that poor sonnovabitch get himself into trouble and you know it~" He pulled his face into a slightly more solemn expression for a moment. "You know we had a deal, aniki," he scolded playfully. "He only spends what he brings to the table. No letting him borrow out money he doesn't have."
"Ah, were those are terms?" Kyoutarou whined. "It's been a while, so I've forgotten."
Joey shook his head, mocking Kyoutarou's faux forgetfulness. "Aniki…"
"Ah, ah~ I kid," Kyoutarou chuckled. He sat back down in his seat, and retrieved his cigarette from the side of his ashtray. "I remember our deal, Wheeler-san, but your father came in with a huge lump sum of cash this evening. I guess we just lost track of how much he'd spent, by the time we checked the books."
Kyoutarou shrugged carelessly. He inhaled deeply from his cigarette, and dangled it carelessly from his lips.
Joey snorted. He covered his disbelief with a smile.
"Figures~" he said. "The second that old man strikes the jackpot – first thing he does is come here and lose it all over again~" Joey sighed deeply, and let his shoulders curl down for dramatic effect.
Kyoutarou hummed in agreement.
"Still~" Joey prompted. "I don't see why your inability to keep track of your books means holding me and my dad to this debt." He blinked heavily. "We did have a deal, Kyou-aniki."
Kyoutarou shrugged again.
"Even if-" Kyoutarou paused for dramatic effect. "Even if my group should have been paying better attention to what he was doing, if a man puts down the house's money of his own accord, should he not take responsibility for doing so?"
Joey didn't think it was a coincidence, the way Kyoutarou stretched his arms and back. Joey caught a glimpse of vibrant blue patterns dancing on Kyoutarou's skin, just below his neckline.
It was hard not to roll his eyes, but the point was valid.
"Of course, aniki," Joey said. "I just don't think you're without responsibility either."
Kyoutarou hummed contemplatively, and looked up at Joey.
Joey held his ground. He was aware he was in a room surrounded, but you couldn't get anywhere without the confidence to budge the truth.
"How much does he owe you?" Joey said.
Kyoutarou signalled to the others, somebody walked up and passed him the records. He studied the entries. "Jounouchi – eight hundred and ninety-two thousand yen," he announced.
Joey resisted the urge to curse. He breathed deeply in through his nose.
"I think you should cover two-thirds of it," Joey decided. He was sliding his fingers across the bills in his pocket again.
Kyoutarou snorted.
"I've got some money with me," Joey said. He tapped the bills and removed his hand from his pocket. He left his fist open, so Kyoutarou could see he had nothing. "It's not much… But I'll put that money down for a game. If I win, you shave two-thirds off the debt. If you win, you can take the cash, and I'll pay you back. We'll have to work out loan terms either way… But I'm good for it – you know me."
There was a long moment, during which Joey's suggestion went over like a lead balloon. He could hear the snickers, but refused to acknowledge the other people sitting at Kyoutarou's table. He let his eyes refocus, to the worn tatami on the floor. A peeling corner of paper on the wall.
"What makes you think I'd agree to those terms?" Kyoutarou seemed disinterested.
Joey forced his eyes to refocus. He forced a sternness into his features. "We had a deal," he stressed. "You already lost, aniki. You owe me this mu-"
"I don't think I owe you anything," Kyoutarou interrupted firmly.
Joey gaped. His face reddened.
All he wanted was to kick something. Kick Kyoutarou's goddamn face in.
"You know, Wheeler-san," Kyoutarou smiled. "You really shouldn't be calling me 'aniki'. Seeing as you're not part of the group and all."
Joey huffed. He smiled wryly. "What?" he challenged. "Ain't we kinda like family?" he asked.
"Not enough like family." Kyoutarou lifted his head appraisingly.
For a second, Joey was speechless. Then-
"You can't be serious!" He bent his torso down and laughed. Kyoutarou was suggesting Joey join up with his group. "Whaddaya want me for?!"
"Oh, c'mon," Kyoutarou laughed. "I like you. You like everyone… And you know your way around – have seen enough of the business from the fringes. Not to mention you've got a famously mean uppercut." Kyoutarou puffed on his cigarette. "You'd be great as a dealer. Or a great bodyguard. Can do anything really."
"Aw, you flatterer, aniki~" Joey beamed. "But I'm booked up right now. Got more people clamouring for my expert services than ever before. You should've seen Yamada-san begging me for help earlier this week. Not to mention Ka-"
Joey cut himself off. The last thing he needed was Kyoutarou knowing he had ties in Kaiba Corp. He imagined the yakuza banging down Kaiba's door. And then, worse, Kaiba Corp thugs banging down the yakuza's door.
"I've actually got a halfway decent gig right now," Joey decided. "Nothin' like my tournament gig, before that went belly-up, but-" Joey shrugged sheepishly. "Thanks but no thanks, Kyou-san."
Kyoutarou smiled. "Listen, it wasn't a job offer," he said, "it was my terms."
Joey blinked. He was again aware of how smoky the room was. How there were figures all around to block his exit – stifling.
"I don't follow," he admitted.
Kyoutarou nodded, and continued to explain.
"Two-thirds is trash – scrap that. We'll play a single match. We'll put down half of the money towards your debt. You'll put down the money you brought, plus your commitment to work with us to pay off your debt if you lose – you've got nothing else to offer as collateral. Those are my terms, if you're interested in avoiding our famous interest rates."
Joey didn't so much consider the offer as become overcome by it. Standing there, he had no way of knowing if it was a favourable deal or not. He tried to run through the different variables in his mind – the near nine hundred thousand yen of borrowed money his dad had played and lost, the amount of money he could make off of a day's labour, the turbulence of a neverending string of part-time jobs, the game he'd once played and won to wheedle promises out of Kyoutarou that he knew would be broken. Lies. History. Debt. He had no way of measuring how much any of it was worth. But he suspected it wasn't much.
And Kyoutarou's bodyguards had accumulated around the room. Kyoutarou didn't have to make any concessions to Joey at all if he didn't want to. It would be stupid to pretend that wasn't worth something.
"Yea-, okay," Joey said easily. "You got it. Let's play."
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There was nothing interesting in this set. But the next group of four revealed an empty white tile. And the next group – two more.
Tofu tiles~
Joey couldn't help but snicker to himself, as he arranged the tiles together on his side of the card table.
Getting dealt three white dragons right from the get-go. Kaiba would be jealous~
"Good hand?" one of Kyoutarou's goons smiled at him from the right.
"Eh~ You could say that," Joey beamed. He reclined in his seat and laced his hands behind his head. He tapped his foot, as if impatient for the first discard.
In reality the rest of his hand was pretty crappy. In addition to the white dragons, Joey had been lucky enough to snag a tile of his own wind – west – but a second wind tile – north – did not match it. And the rest of the tiles were suits, but with only one relation between them – a two and four of circles, which could be used to make a sequence if he was fortunate enough to get a three in the same suit.
He struggled not to frown. Joey usually wouldn't bother with sequences, which were not worth the same amount of points as three-of-a-kind. But this was not a normal game where points would be tallied and money redistributed on that basis. He had to go out as soon as possible, before everyone else could, to sneak out of repaying his father's debt.
Kyoutarou was dealing, so he threw out the first tile. Joey had missed the window to call for it, but it was a five character – nothing he wanted anyway. Nor did he want the next discard.
He drew a seven bamboo from the wall, and slid it between a five and eight in his hand. He threw out a two character.
He was feeling jittery, bouncing in his seat, all through the next turn, so he was happy when the man on his right spoke.
"You and Kyoutarou-aniki seem close…" he prompted.
"Aww, do we?" Joey said. He scratched his chin sheepishly. He supposed close was one way of putting it.
"It's not often Kyoutarou-aniki gets drawn into hosting a match himself. He's even dealing for you – you should be grateful."
The goon to Joey's left called for Kyoutarou's discard, and revealed three of a kind – a pong of nine of circles.
"Oh, I am. Definitely. Very grateful. For sure," Joey assured, as he reached to draw from the wall. He couldn't tell if he was lying or not.
He'd drawn a second west wind, and tried his best not to beam at the tile. He contemplated briefly, before throwing out his north wind.
"You don't have to flatter me like that," Kyoutarou said. "I've known you since you were-"
His gesture – one that was communicating Joey's former diminutive height – was cut short as he drew his next tile.
"I don't think we were formally introduced until… I was in high school?" Joey contemplated, scratching the side of his face.
Kyoutarou nodded contemplatively, still looking at his tiles. "Your father's quite the recognisable face. Best spoken gaijin I've ever met. He's got a talent for languages, doesn't he?"
The goon to Joey's right called for the discarded tile.
"Ah, it sure seems like it," Joey pouted.
His dad had once regaled him and Serenity with tales of travelling back and forth through New Guiana, Vietnam, the Eastern Coast of China, and Taiwan – before settling down with their mom in Japan. He'd taunt them with words in Mandarin and Min and English, and laugh happily instead of correcting their mispronunciations.
The Salt Lake in his father's stories was nothing like the America Joey had seen from Pegasus's Tower. It was nothing like the America Joey had seen speeding on a train to Florida after Mai. It was nothing like the America Anzu had struggled to communicate to him – struggled to find a point and a use for all her extra hours in cram school – English filtered through a pristine white cloth thrown back at Joey in small, summarised bits of Japanese.
Joey wouldn't be jealous of all the things his father knew that he didn't. The English Language could go fuck itself anyhow – with its exaggerated Pleeeease and Thank youuuu.
"Well, mahjong – luck – it's a great equaliser is what it is," Kyoutarou said, as he drew another tile. "No matter how much his face stands out, no matter how smooth his Japanese is. That gaijin's exactly like the rest that walk through the parlour door. He has dreams – just like anybody, and he's willing to put everything on the line to see them through – just like anybody. If all he does is throw his day wages on the table like any other piece of trash, why should we pay him any special attention? Him or his tiny brat of a son?"
"Oi!" Joey protested. "That's still my father you're talking about!" He glared down at the discarded tiles. Taking cheap shots at the old man was a privilege that Joey had a monopoly on.
"And quit skipping over my turn!" Joey added sharply.
The player on his right called for a second discard, intercepting Joey's turn again. He revealed a three, four, and five of circles.
Kyoutarou laughed, as he moved to draw again. "I was just saying that a man has to make a reputation for himself. Nobody was going to look at you just for being the son of a gambler, no matter how well-spoken or exotic. And you did make a reputation for yourself."
Joey's face flushed. If it was in pride or in frustration, he wasn't sure. He tapped his foot on the floor. He hated how Kyoutarou made him feel gratified. It reminded him of Yuugi's confidence, and hands at Duel Monsters. It was enough to make him forget that that pride and gratitude would only carry you so long as you were winning.
"Ah, Chow!" Joey called. He reached over to pluck Kyoutarou's six bamboo out of the discard pile. He hesitated for a second, before deciding to go with the six-seven-eight sequence, and discard the five bamboo. "See how you like having your turns skipped~"
On the very next play, a west wind was discarded, and Joey was able to call for it. He grinned relentlessly, as he revealed the three-of-a-kind to the others. With that move, he had over half his hand compiled.
Which one to throw out though? He should discard his seven circle – but would it be better to get rid of his disconnected honour tiles sooner rather than later?
Kyoutarou shook his head. He smiled at his goons. "See, Jounouchi the younger is really something in his own right. When I first heard about him, he just seemed like a common street thug with an uncommonly good right hook. But look at how he's convinced all of you of his bad fortune, before calling for two tiles in a row, one of which has allowed him a pong of his own wind." Kyoutarou paused to call for Jou's discarded nine character – Jou cursed his bad luck – before continuing. "In actuality, Wheeler-san is a true sportsman! With a true affinity for games!"
"True sportsman?" Joey huffed disbelievingly. "A true duellist is more like it!" he crossed his arms over his chest and preened, while the goon to the left of him took his turn.
"You had a good run there for a while," Kyoutarou agreed. "It's not everyday somebody from the gambling parlour strikes it big in professional gaming. I remember – the excitement when you placed first in that Duel Monsters tournament in Osaka!"
Joey drew a two circle this time, which meant he either needed a three circle to make a sequence with the four circle, or another two circle for three-of-a-kind.
"Heh~ Thanks, aniki." Joey grinned.
His seven circle was discarded.
"Too bad nothing lasts forever," Kyoutarou said wistfully.
"Yea-" Joey sighed, still smiling. "But, hey, it's not like nothing good came out of it~ I still owe you one, Kyou-aniki, for helping me negotiate outta my dad's mortgage loan."
It had been a lot of begging, a lot of favours, and a lot of payments straight off of the success of Joey's duelling career. The money from the Osaka tournament – weeks of stress and travel and deck modifications and sponsorship deals – all disappeared into negating the debt left from some long-since-foreclosed-on property in the quiet of the Domino suburbs. Joey hadn't lived there since he was six years old, but he remembered the address from where it was scattered over contracts and loan agreements over a decade later. The monstrous unfairness, his dad's drinking, Joey's own anger – they'd all been the product of the debt and the loan sharks and people like Kyoutarou.
And yet- If Kyoutarou hadn't gone to bat on his side… If Kyoutarou hadn't convinced the loan sharks to lower their interest rates and accept a few delayed lump sum payments… Joey would still be making payments for 749-172 Taitou-ku, Domino-chou.
"You'll make it up to me someday," Kyoutarou assured. "Perhaps someday soon, depending on how this game goes."
It was Joey's turn again, and Kyoutarou gestured for him to draw.
The tile was of no consequence – another six bamboo. Joey threw it into the discard pile as soon as he recognised what it was.
Joey shrugged. This game of mahjong was hardly of consequence anyhow. It was just a holding pattern. Kyoutarou was right – there was no way Joey was getting out of making things up to him. Joey had paid off his father's housing loan, hadn't he? And, somehow, they were still in debt, his father still drank, and Joey was still angry. And somehow he always ended up back here anyhow, didn't he? Gambling parlours and alleyways and abandoned warehouses that felt like home.
Joey hardly paid attention as the time for his turn circled back around.
He drew a red dragon from the wall this time, and smiled. The Red Eyes Black Dragon was Rex's card first but somehow, in taking it from him, it became a thing that was only Joey's, no matter how many hands it had gone through. Although he had no other reason to prefer it, he set the red dragon tile down in his hand, and threw his one bamboo into the discard pile instead, noting it was not decorated with a peafowl.
The next turn, the goon to his right called his hand ready – one tile away from the win.
Joey shuffled in his seat.
What had sounded inconsequential in theory, seemed a lot less pretty the closer it lingered.
It had been nine long years running away from this. And Joey thought those nine years were worth something in of themself. The times he'd spent at Honda's house, and at Yuugi's. Attending Domino High, flipping skirts, and acing his PE classes if nothing else. Travelling across the ocean to Duellist Kingdom and meeting Mai and winning the money to pay for Serenity's surgery. Floating up to the sky in the Kaiba Corp blimp. And duelling in a huge stadium with a cheering crowd. These were experiences and memories that would stay with him forever – a reminder that, if only for a little while, he had been more than his roots. He could return home a hero.
But was he really okay with that being the end of it? Had that been what Honda had dragged him out of the alley and taken him up to the second floor of the autoshop for? He'd smashed a damp cloth against Joey's face to wipe the blood away from his nose, and slammed half a dozen textbooks and the application for the Domino High admittance test on Joey's lap, and argued with him for half an hour. Had that only been in service of delaying the inevitable? And what about Joey? Had that been the spirit in which he'd asked Honda to drag him away in the first place?
It wasn't even worth asking so far as Yuugi went. He knew who he had to be, when Yuugi stood in front of Ushio and said that Joey wasn't a bully, but a precious friend. And Yuugi was a damn fool who said that about everyone, even Kaiba. And Joey had hated Yuugi vehemently in that moment, because Yuugi's grasp on reality was shaky at best, but it had an infectious quality that had borne a terrible desire inside Joey.
In that moment, he wished he could have torn down the whole world and remade it again in Yuugi's eyes – and that meant not going back, no matter how much homesickness raged in him like nausea.
Home had a name. A trip of the tongue in four syllables.
Joey cleared his throat.
Kyoutarou was drawing again.
"Hey, uh," Joey began, "whatever happened to Hirutani?"
Kyoutarou was considering his hand. "Who?" he asked, absently.
Joey felt his body, still humming from the sound of the name.
"Hey~ Don't play that game with me, man~" Joey grinned. "He was a nobody. But you damn well know who that nobody was. He ran the whole goddamn Grocer's District when he was in middle school. And he was skimming big bucks off your protection fees in high school. You don't forget an asshole like that."
Kyoutarou tossed out a seven character. He declared his hand ready, before returning to Joey's line of inquiry.
"Yeah, him? 'What happened to him?' you ask. You mean before or after you threw him off a building and landed him in the hospital?"
The goon to Joey's left picked up a tile.
"'Ey, you know what I mean," Joey insisted. "You told me he was doing time in Fuchuu the last I asked. So I wanna know what happened after that~"
A three character was added to the discard pile, and Joey reached for another tile, gaze still fixed on Kyoutarou, searching his face for answers.
"Yeah, that's right," Kyoutarou confirmed. "That was almost two years ago, when he served a year over in Fuchuu."
"Shit? Was it that long ago?" Joey asked. "It's been that long?"
"Yup. Almost two years. He got out early, though. After that, we put him on a deal down in Laos. He had fun with that one. We saw him back safely into the country."
"Yeah?" Joey asked. He turned his tile over in his hand. It was a two circle, which meant he had three of a kind.
"Yeah," Kyoutarou said. "And no one's seen him since."
"You tellin' me he went back on the straight and narrow?" Joey huffed bitterly. "My hand's ready," he announced, hand dancing between the four circle and red dragon.
"No," Kyoutarou said firmly. "That's not what I'm tellin' you." Joey watched with creeping dread as Kyoutarou's shoulders picked up carelessly, and fell. "I guess it's possible he survived, and boarded himself up in some shack in the sticks. But I doubt it."
Joey let his tile drop in the pile. He realised belatedly he'd thrown out the wrong one. If he kept the four circle, he could've drawn either a three or four circle to call mahjong. Keeping the red dragon meant the only tile he could win with was another red dragon. He couldn't find the energy to try and scramble to cover his mistake, before the next draw.
"…Oh," Joey said heavily. Trying not to imagine how, exactly, Hirutani had been left for dead.
Stupid bastard deserves everything he gets, Joey tried to remind himself.
It wasn't working. His mind conjured up the images a little too easily. Screams and gunshots from the next street over, and the remains of a police investigation the following morning… a rare occurrence that was still not rare enough. He had seen someone get stabbed in the stomach once. He had seen somebody drop the knife and run. He'd walked past those things, like they were nothing. And he'd turned to the person walking beside him, and Hirutani would shake his head derisively, like it was nothing. And, for a little while it left Joey feeling brave. It was nothing that could touch them.
Hirutani… We promised, man. We promised we'd be better than that – work our way up in the ranks. We promised that we'd be the ones working the deals and calling the shots and sitting cosy in the Inagawa-kai and Yamaguchi-gumi penthouses.
The thug to Joey's left called his hand ready. They were all one tile away from a complete hand. Luckily nobody called for the tile he discarded.
Shit- Shit! Joey's eyes scanned the discard pile frantically. There was already one red dragon sitting there. That meant only two more were in play.
He held his breathing as steady as he could, and blinked away the wetness collecting in the corner of his eyes. He couldn't appear afraid, although he felt convinced he wasn't fooling anyone.
Kyoutarou was drawing with a pleased expression on his face. When he threw out, Joey barely registered the tile. Only that it wasn't a red dragon, and the game continued as the next thug drew.
Hirutani- We promised we'd make it.
We promised we wouldn't bleed out over cement.
What was it like to be dead? To be dead, and have nobody remember you? Nobody worries for you. Nobody talks about you. Nobody asks for you. Nobody except for some asshole playing mahjong. And, even then, he can't be bothered to bring you up more than once a year.
We promised we wouldn't die on the streets, like dogs.
And Joey would have liked to think he was cleverer than Hirutani. Cleverer than Yuugi and Honda and Anzu and Mai and Kaiba. That he'd make it where they wouldn't have been able to. But that wasn't how it was. He wasn't any better than any of them. He wasn't smarter or more clever or more ruthless or more lucky… You were born into the Yakuza family top ranks. Or you allowed them to take you in on the fringes, where you slaved and worked and died.
There was only one way that story could end.
"It's your turn, Wheeler-san," Kyoutarou said.
"Y-Yeah," Joey agreed, although he felt unsure of what to do. This was probably the last move he could make. The last action he could take, before he was inevitably sentenced. He wasn't sure how he'd make it through the next run around the table, with everyone drawing and scrambling for their final tile.
With nothing left, he reached to draw from the wall.
I'm so sorry, man. I'm sorry, Hirutani. I'm sorry I couldn't save you.
But that was the other thing. You couldn't save people if you were Joey. You had to be someone like Yuugi to make that kind of impact. And, even then, Joey wasn't sure. Yuugi had tried to save him, after all. And here he was – one mahjong tile away from losing everything he'd worked towards.
He flipped the tile over in his hand. It wasn't the red dragon, so it took a moment for Joey's eyes to focus, and realise exactly what he was seeing.
"K-Kong!" Joey called. He set the three leftmost tiles in his hand face-down on the table, and flipped the tile he just drew upwards over them.
It was the elusive fourth white dragon. The one that should have been ripped up and lost. But here it was: In Sugoroku's game shop. In Joey's mahjong hand.
It was ludicrous, but calming. Somehow, what had already been destroyed continued to persist.
Joey couldn't even explain, but somehow he found himself sitting in his chair and the card table, and he could breathe again.
"Well…" Kyoutarou said, impatiently. "Are you going to take your extra draw?" He gestured to the dead wall, where the final untouchable tiles sat, at the end of the line.
You had to see things through to the last draw. The last turn. The last life point. At that moment, it didn't seem to Joey like an act of courage – it seemed the only human thing to do. It was only right to see if the tile was a red dragon, or else the winning tile for somebody else.
I'm so sorry, Hirutani. You asshole. You deserved better than that. We promised. Both of us promised.
…Don't give up on me.
Joey reached forward to break the tile from the dead wall.
Atem… he prayed. Don't you have any magic left for your good friend, Joey Wheeler?
He drew.
.
.
"C'mon, dad." Joey hoisted his father's arm over his shoulder. "Let's head home."
Jounouchi senior grumbled. His eyes seemed relatively lucid as he blinked sideways at Joey, coming out of his slumber.
"You're just too lucky for your own good, Wheeler-san~" Kyoutarou shook his head, disparagingly. He grinned as he handed Joey a copy of the I.O.U. – four hundred forty-six thousand yen, to be paid in a little over two weeks. Joey had signed and fingerprinted the contract himself, and watched them tear up the one his dad had made.
Joey picked up the I.O.U. into his hand and stuffed it in his pocket.
Kyoutarou crossed his arms into his sleeves. "But your luck will run out one of these days," he said cheerfully.
"Yea-" Joey agreed. A small smile was pulling at the side of his mouth. "But until then, thanks for looking out for me, Kyou-aniki." He hoisted his dad up higher onto his shoulder. He stood up tall. "I still owe ya one."
Kyoutarou shrugged. "You'll make it up to me eventually."
"Yea-" Joey sighed slightly. He pulled his dad closer to him, steadied his feet on the floor. "But until then I don't wanna see your ugly mug for a while," he huffed. "Remember our deal! I don't care how he begs – don't let dad gamble away money he doesn't have!" He narrowed his eyes, in mockery of a threat.
"Sure," Kyoutarou waved him off. "I'm sure my memory will hold for a while," he laughed. "Get outta here, Wheeler-san! Doesn't a hotshot duellist like you have better places to be?"
Kyoutarou turned and walked off, before he got an answer.
The sickening smell of oversweet coffee. The texture of white stringy carpet. The clang of auto parts. Purple painted fingernails digging into his skin.
"Yea-" Joey whispered under his breath. He inhaled the smoke of the mahjong parlour again. "Better places…"
His father grumbled sleepy nonsense into his ear, on the way to the door.
The weight on Joey's shoulder was heavy, and he found himself irritated with the burden on his way to the door. He pressed his hand into his father's bloated stomach, and felt the flesh give under his hands a little too easily. His father's stubble scratched coarsely against the shoulder of Joey's jacket – and the sound was quiet against the bustle of the parlour, but Joey felt the hairs on his arms and neck pique in alarm.
Again Joey was circling through the mahjong parlour, weaving across the room. But, where the patrons had ignored Joey on his way in, they turned excited to his father on the way out.
"Heading out for the night?"
"Looking good, Delun-chan! See you next week!"
His dad smiled. "Yup," he agreed dreamily. "See you~"
"Aw, you and your son are so sweet, Koro-chan~"
"It was great playing alongside you, Koro-chan!"
His dad laughed and waved off the compliments bashfully.
"Take care of yourself, Koro-chan!"
Koro-chan~ Koro-chan~
Joey grit his teeth, and fought down the boil in his blood.
One man walked up and clasped his dad on the right shoulder.
He ignored Joey entirely, and Joey wasn't sure whether to be angry or grateful for it.
"Koro-chan, I still owe you a drink sometime!" the man proclaimed. "I haven't forgotten that you spotted me that one time!"
"Aw, haw~ It was nothing." Jounouchi senior waved this off. "What's a drink between a couple of friends, yeah? I'm just happy to know a great guy like you, Manabe-san~"
The friend beamed. "But still~" he protested. "I'll return the favour. Next time."
"Next time~ Next time~" Jounouchi senior laughed. He didn't seem to realise the way Joey was trying to pull him ahead to exit the parlour with increasing ardour. "Always next time, huh? Heh~" He grinned widely.
"When you're sober enough to stand on your own two feet, eh, Chankoro-chan~" his dad's friend laughed. "It's been a pleasure as always! Have a good night!"
Joey pulled his father through the threshold, and out into the hall. He walked down the corridor, and hauled his father back up into the alleyway outside.
His father spent a while waving behind him at the friends he had left.
And then it was only him and Joey.
Joey huffed. The glow of the moon and the streetlights cast shadows all around them, and it was a small comfort that nobody was around to pick a fight. Joey squinted down at the cracks and tremors in the asphalt and concrete, and weaved around them. He directed his father's steps, and adjusted him against his side.
Jounouchi senior was still stumbling and, freed from the interior of the gambling parlour and the eyes of onlookers, he let Joey hoist him up onto his back. Joey gripped his thighs tightly, and hunched over so his dad could lean against his shoulder.
His father gripped Joey's biceps tightly. And Joey carried him out of the alley and onto the sidewalk proper, a good hundred steps.
They were making quick progress when-
"They're good guys," his father said into his ear. Belatedly. A little defensively. "Everyone has hard times, but they're good guys~ They look on after me when I get a little…"
His father trailed off. He shrugged against Joey's shoulder.
Joey had been focussing intently on the weight and the pressure and preciseness of his steps. On the moon and the crisscross of phone lines above him. On the warm heartbeat in his chest and cool air on his cheeks. He didn't want to consider how many rounds of mahjong and drinks his dad had spotted his fellow gamblers for. He didn't want to consider how many times they'd dug through his father's pockets, for the money to set him up at a hotel for the night, to set him up lying drowsy against a pachinko machine. He didn't want to consider what kind of whispered conversations they had, about lost houses and families and dreams – not unlike the conversations Joey had with Yuugi.
There was one thing he couldn't help but consider.
"I can't believe you let them call you that," Joey spat, disgusted. He pressed his foot hard into the concrete, and jogged for a few paces.
His father hummed so sweetly, as he raised and fell slowly in pace with Joey's gait. It made Joey's ears prickle.
"They don't mean anything by it~" Jounouchi senior said. "They're good people~" He laughed. "They like meeee. They look after meeee." he trilled happily.
The moonlight glinted off a manhole, and caught in Joey's eye. The empty street was a long, one-way corridor.
"If they gave a shit about you, they wouldn't let you get like this!" Joey retorted venomously. "You guys'll drink and laugh. You'll do them favours and shit. But where the fuck are they when you need them?! Nah, they're in a rush to call me the second shit gets serious!"
Jounouchi senior sighed. "Joey~ Joey~" He groaned and, as if making a herculean effort, lifted himself up on Joey's back to smash his cheek against his son's neck. "You can't expect that much from others," he whined. "Isn't being pleasant company enough?"
"Doesn't seem so fucking pleasant to me!" Joey snarled. "Do you know how much I put on the line to bail you out tonight?!" he demanded. "Do you know how many times I've had to put aside school fees, and deck upgrades, and my life to help you out of whatever fucked up situation you've gotten yourself into?! And here you are talking about how great your goddamn 'friends' are?!"
"Like you're any better~" Joey heard his father click his tongue. "I've seen how you are with those Japanese friends of yours. I'm not the one who applied for a school out of my price range, so I could suck up to a bunch of prep school kids, in the hopes they'd take pity on me and hand out whatever scraps they had to spare."
Joey remembered how he'd been brought to tears and burning resentment, when Yuugi and Honda had presented him with his airline ticket to Egypt. They'd wanted him to be there. They'd wanted him.
"I-"
Joey raged. He began again.
"I am not the one spending time in a gambling parlour letting people call me chink!" he screamed.
The words seemed to reverberate through the world unevenly. They echoed off the buildings, streaming back to him.
Joey heard the words. And he couldn't deny them. But he felt ashamed.
Jounouchi senior hung his head. His forehead butted against Joey's shoulder. The nothingness left in the wake of the fading echo felt heavier than anything.
Oh, geez. What was he doing? Arguing with an old drunkard. Yelling. Taking any of this seriously.
Joey couldn't find anything to say, but he gripped his father's legs tighter, in a way he hoped was comforting. He tried his best to ignore his father's trembling form, and pulled them both forward. The street was so cracked it seemed cobbled.
He focussed on it so intently on it, he didn't realise when his father's stopped shaking. He missed the way his father extended his legs slightly, and his torso pulled back. He missed the fist that was braced and lifted.
Bam!
Joey staggered sideways, struggling to hold onto his father legs, which were now flailing. He stepped instinctively to regain his balance.
Pain had erupted against his forehead, just in front of his ear, where the fist had boxed flat against the bone. The vision in his left eye blurred. And when it focussed, Joey was no longer seeing the same landscape.
Oh, hell to the fuck no!
His dad was struggling blindly, but Joey's head was clear with sobriety. And Joey was stronger besides. He caught his dad under his shoulder, flipped him up over his head, and slammed him down to the ground. There was an ominous clack as Jounouchi senior's back met the concrete, and his belt clattered against the asphalt.
"You son of a bitch!" Joey snarled. He collapsed down, straddling his father's chest. Jounouchi senior was kicking, and flailing his arms, but Joey couldn't see past the dark and the red in their eyes. He gnashed his teeth. When his father's arms whipped up and around, trying to find a way through to strike his son, Joey caught them with angry precision, knocking them away faster than they could strike.
You goddamn son of a bitch, Joey breathed through his teeth. His back curled in, so he was glaring directly down into his father's face. He'd pinned down one of his father's arms with his right hand. And he raised his other fist, before swiping it down at his father's jaw. His father flailed turning his head up and away, and the blow landed on the underside of his father's neck instead. Jounouchi senior wheezed and coughed, curling in on himself. Joey's knuckles burned as they made contact.
Son of a bitch.
Joey lifted his arm up again. It had been a weak blow. Joey turned his torso into it this time. His fist slammed down and met against jaw and gum and teeth. His right hand had slipped away from his father's arm. It was holding his head in place now. His palm spread over his father's nose, and his index and ring fingers prodded into the corners of his father's eyes, threatening to blind him if he made a wrong move.
He stopped when he felt the tears welling up under his fingers.
Joey blinked. He exhaled deeply. Inhaled again. His father had extended his arm up completely, and pressed the hard base of his palm up under Joey's chin. It stung a little. Joey was surprised he hadn't felt it before.
Two fully extended arms. Their hands were holding each other's faces at an arm's length. Joey's left arm was lifted up, a fist ready to be brought down. Jounouchi senior had covered his own face with his right hand. His gums were bleeding. The blood pooled around the edges of canines and molars, thankfully still sitting in his mouth intact.
"Joey," he sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whimpered.
The tears were bubbling up, spilling from Jounouchi senior's tear ducts, up against the pressure of Joey's warning fingers.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Jounouchi senior was saying.
Joey's arm went lax. His fist unravelled in his hand. Tears were starting to spill from his eyes too.
"It's fine. It's fine," Joey said. "Don't be sorry. I'm sorry too."
His father didn't seem to hear him. When Joey drew his hands away and scooted up off his father's chest, his father pulled away and covered his eyes with both hands.
"I'm sorry, Joey. I'm sorry," he sobbed.
"It's fine. You're fine." Joey could hear himself blubbering. He lifted an arm and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. "It's fine."
Joey eased himself back onto his feet. He stepped over his father.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"It's fine!" Joey tried not to snap. He let out a shuddering breath, and wiped the tears out of his eyes again.
He bent down, and pulled his father up by the shoulders. He allowed his father the dignity of keeping his face covered.
"I'm sorry," Jounouchi senior whispered.
"'S fine." Joey sniffled. He clasped his father's shoulder, and held him. He watched the shuffle of the fabric, and shuffle of shoes on the asphalt. Everything felt submerged. "C'mon. Let's get you home."
.
.
The tension that seemed to hold everything at a hair's distance throughout the week had subsided. Leaving behind a sunny haze of exhaustion.
It was Saturday afternoon – the start of Joey's weekend. Two days of freedom before he had to see the Kaiba brothers again.
The paycheck he'd been expecting from Kaiba Corp would have to go directly to paying off his father's gambling debt, and he wouldn't be able to save up that money for treating Mai, but there was a sense of relief in that. And he'd bought himself time before he had to think about how to rent a limo or walk into a jewellery store. He'd bought himself time before his father's next outburst. Before Kyoutarou decided to push the boundaries of their gambling treaty. Before he had to remember Hirutani again. Before Yamada-san could call in another favour for construction work. Before things had to change irrevocably.
Life was good~ Joey stretched his arms, as he reported his departure to Satou-chan.
He'd spent the early part of the day in the mailroom. And later he'd gone to pick up Mokuba, who had called him an idiot two times, but who had also stolen glances at the black and blue patch next to his eye and offered him a chocolate cornet wrapped in plastic – no strings attached.
"Kaiba-sama said he wanted to see you before you left for the day," Satou-chan told him.
And Joey stepped easily into Kaiba's office.
Kaiba was on the phone, and didn't look at Joey as he entered. But Joey didn't mind for once.
Joey closed his eyes. He stuck his hands in his pockets, directing them around the jacket that was tied to his waist.
Sun was streaming into the office, past the Blue Eyes statue. The days were getting longer. Summer was approaching at a snail's pace, but the signs of it were blossoming everywhere.
Joey didn't hear the click as Kaiba hung up the phone, but he heard his name.
"Wheeler."
When he opened his eyes again, Kaiba wasn't looking at him. He was looking down at his desk, but beckoning Joey forward with an arm.
Kaiba shuffled papers as Joey approached. He slid files over the top of desk, and looked beneath them, as if critiquing the glossy surface of the hard wood.
Joey watched as Kaiba pulled open one of his desk drawers. He didn't feel impatient and he didn't know why.
"Before you leave-" Kaiba said.
He pulled out a small slip of paper, held together by a paperclip, and tossed it across his desk.
He motioned for Joey to take it.
Joey blinked at it. He drew his hand out of his pocket, brushing the fringe of his white t-shirt.
He picked up the paper and unclipped it. It was some kind of receipt, folded around a thousand yen bill. He squinted at it, trying to piece it together quicker than his mind was willing to.
Joey looked at Kaiba questioningly.
"Your returns, Wheeler," Kaiba answered without hesitation. "For the lottery scratcher you passed over to me."
Joey studied the bill. It was crisp, brand new.
He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around what Kaiba was saying.
"Kaiba… I bought that lottery scratcher with your money," he explained.
"I've already instructed Satou to deduct the cost of the original ticket from your salary," Kaiba said.
Joey rubbed his fingers against the smooth paper of the bill.
"Yeah, but I still gave it to you," Joey protested. Somehow he was being shaken unpleasantly from of his haze. "Because it was wrong of me to try and use your money like that," he explained.
Kaiba didn't seem to care enough to respond to that. He shrugged and turned his attention down to a folder on his desk. He occupied himself with flipping through it, and Joey couldn't tell if he was actually reading it, or just trying to end the conversation.
"The winnings are yours, Kaiba," Joey said, a little more forcefully. He held out the bill and waved it in Kaiba's face. Not close enough to obstruct his view of his paperwork though.
Kaiba sighed, and slammed the folder shut anyhow.
"Wheeler, it was your own dumb luck that you chose a ticket that was worth anything at all, so-"
"Luck I gave to you!" Joey said.
It was stupid. They were arguing about a thousand yen – barely enough for a meal at Burger World. And it wasn't even an argument, really. There was hardly enough weight to what they were saying to give it any animosity.
But Joey felt his cheeks flush suddenly. Something about this declaration felt intimately revealing.
And the weird part was that Kaiba seemed to notice it too. He looked up and, when he met Joey's eyes, there was the slightest hint of disarmment, and surprise.
Kaiba refused to sit in it for long.
"You know what, Wheeler?" Kaiba turned to his computer screen this time. "It's one thousand yen. I really don't care either way."
Kaiba's fingers clacked against his computer keyboard.
Joey was still holding the bill. He could have dropped it on Kaiba's desk and walked out, but he didn't.
Joey huffed. "But you cared enough to tell Satou-chan to deduct the cost from my salary. You cared enough to reveal the numbers on the scratcher. You cared enough to go back and cash it at the store."
This caused Joey pause.
"D-Did you go to the store yourself to cash it?" he asked, thrown off.
Hadn't that been one of the reasons he'd taken this job at Kaiba Corp? So Kaiba wouldn't be bothered with running errands at the convenience store himself?
He felt the sharp sting of failure, and the heady rush of triumph.
When Kaiba met his eyes this time, his face was as red as Joey's.
He didn't answer the question.
"I run a gaming company. I like games, Wheeler," Kaiba said, slowly, as if he was annoyed at having to explain something so obvious. "This-" he waved in the general direction of the receipt and the paperclip, "-is a game… Not one I'd ever have thought to play by myself."
He crossed his arms and sank back in his office chair. His eyes weren't closed all the way, but they were enough so that Joey couldn't see him.
"I guess it was a little… fun," Kaiba admitted.
It was ludicrous. And yet it made perfect sense. The sun fell a little in the sky throwing the room into greater shadow. And yet everything was still bright and gorgeous.
"Alright, then," Joey said. And he pocketed the thousand yen.
But something about this disquieted Joey far after he'd left Kaiba's office and exited the building. He walked to the metro stop, and caught the train, as usual. But, along the way, he kept reaching into his pocket to thumb the edge of the bill.
It raked sharp across his finger, and gave him a papercut. He felt the sting and the burden of significance. But, for the life of him, Joey couldn't figure out what it meant.
.
.
AN: "Chankoro-chan". Which was shortened here to Koro-chan in a strangely affectionate manner. Chankoro is a derogatory Japanese term for Chinese people. I have no idea how dated this term is (probably pretty dated if I can find information in English about it online) but this fic is set circa 2002, and Joey's dad and his buds are an extra generation removed from that. And Joey's dad is actually half Chinese-American and half white American, but what's the accurate usage of racial slurs between friends, amirite? *murdered in my sleep*
Joey's dad actually goes by a number of names, but 城德倫 Chéng Délún is the other one mentioned in this chapter. 城 Chéng is the maiden name of Joey's paternal grandmother, and you might recognise the character as being the first character in his Japanese surname, 城之内 Jounouchi.
Anyhow, sorry for the wait, but- Next chapter is date night.
