Chapter 9: Shoe, Persimmon

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You weren't supposed to look up at the ceiling.

If you did, you'd see where the industrial ceiling tiles were dirtied and cracked at the corners. You'd see where the mineral fibre ran thin and frayed. And you'd start to wonder when the rooms above the market on the first floor would come crashing down through to put an end to the whole charade.

Joey looked at the ceiling anyhow. He squinted where the florescent lights reflected blindingly off the white.

Some housewife bumped into him, and Joey bristled. He gripped the handles of his shopping basket, and turned to glare at her. She gave him a dirty look back, reached over him to grab an item from the fridge, and kept walking.

Well, yeah… He was getting in the way. Shit or get off the pot.

He looked back down at the display and frowned. The cool blast of the refrigerator was no comfort. The meat was just as expensive as it had been a moment ago, and it looked just as unappetising.

Now was not the time for extravagance, Joey reminded himself. He had budgeted things out. It was better to play it safe than sorry, given the money he owed Kyoutarou. He had only put three thousand five hundred yen in his pocket, and whatever food he bought with it would have to last him most of the way through the week.

Joey picked up a packet of discount pork and considered the amount of fat that was globed onto the edge of the pieces.

Fuck! He was hungry! And not for some shitty discount pork that was more lard than meat!

He tossed the packet back in the basin and grumbled to himself. He was thankful to Mokuba for always providing lunch, on the one hand, but he was starting to wonder if all the fancy food was turning him into an insufferable snob, one who could no longer appreciate the simple things in life.

He looked through the other discount packages, before giving up on the pork entirely. He'd make curry gravy to pour over rice completely plain if he had to.

He moved back to look over the fish once again. Mackerel was pretty cheap. He tossed a pack into his basket, next to a bag of rice, a pack of eggs, a couple cans of tuna, a few fat carrots, and S&B curry roux. He had pickled plums at home. He was resigned to eating a lot of tuna onigiri and plain rice hinomaru bentou.

Though his eyes still grazed longingly over the shining rows of red meat, laid delicately over grass green plastic film, as he passed by on his way back towards the front of the store. He couldn't stop his eyes from zoning in on precisely the cut of meat that he truly wanted.

There was a single packet of marbled beef at the very end of the row. Cut thin like paper. It was magnificent. And it cost eight thousand yen for three hundred grams.

There was nobody here who could afford that kind of thing on a regular basis, but the management liked to keep a packet of it out for the rare few. Those who would be celebrating a birthday, or a promotion, or a homecoming, and could indulge themselves in the temporary luxury of overpriced meat in their shabu-shabu. Keep the dream alive.

Joey picked it up. It might be enough just to feel the weight of it in his hands. It was light – only 300g of course – but Joey still marvelled at its ethereal and fleeting nature.

Just holding it in his hand was not enough.

He considered it a moment longer. Even if he couldn't afford it, somebody should purchase and enjoy this meat before it spoiled.

Joey considered a moment. It felt too early to actually put the meat in his shopping basket, but he somehow felt weary about placing it back down on the market display. What if some housewife came by and snatched it away? He knew it was ridiculous, but he balanced the meat protectively on the crook of his arm anyway – the one that held his shopping basket – before digging into his pocket with his other hand.

His wallet was there. And so was the Kaiba Corp credit card. Despite his earlier fumble with the lottery scratcher, Satou-chan had persisted in sending him out to purchase goods for the company, and Joey had behaved himself, and Satou-chan had stopped collecting the card back from him once he'd brought in the purchases. It was, in practice, his company card. And it was in the front-most slot of his wallet, just where he'd last left it. Where he should have expected it to be.

Joey closed the wallet, and slid it back into his pocket. He retrieved the marbled beef, from where it sat on his elbow, and considered it a moment longer.

Then he rattled his shopping basket sideways, throwing all the items inside to one corner, and slid the beef in sideways across the centre of the basket. The plastic wrapped foam tray the beef was set on formed a perfect partition, between what was his and what was not.

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The meat curled in little rivulets on the frying pan, and the edges sparked a crispy, shiny brown.

Joey moved them around the pan with his chopsticks, before allowing himself to close his eyes. He inhaled the smell of the meat and salted oil, and sighed with something like contentedness.

It was an engrossing task.

Joey's eyes were fixed firmly on the pan. He didn't turn when his father approached and leaned against his shoulder. Joey only leaned back against him, and continued flipping the meat around the pan with his chopsticks.

For a half a minute, they only stood there. There was bread in the oven, and lettuce rinsed next to the sink.

Joey glanced sideways at his dad. His lip was still purple and red and swollen from where Joey had split it the other day.

Joey tilted his head away, to hide where his own eye was still faintly bruised.

He didn't care to be combative. At least not until his dad reached an index finger and thumb forward to steal a slice of meat from the pan.

"Hey, hands off!" Joey commanded. He batted his father's hands away with his chopsticks, and moved the beef over on the skillet. "For you – there's rice over there in the rice cooker. And I already set out some mackerel." He waved his father over to the left.

Jounouchi senior whimpered pitifully.

"You can't even share a little bit of steak with your own father?!" he whined.

"It's not mine to share!" Joey bit out.

Neither was a whole section of the top row of the fridge. Fancy sandwich rolls. Fresh unwilted green lettuce. A packet of mild cheese to melt easily over the meat. And a jar where he'd inexpertly mixed some kimchi and mayonnaise for a sauce. It was partitioned off from the rest of the fridge with a loose wrap of painter's tape. Caution! Do not touch! was scribbled along the face. Like yellow tape at a crime scene.

"It's for work."

My boss never eats unless he's force-fed, would seem both ludicrous and oddly revealing.

"I'm making it for someone at work." Joey opted instead for vagueness.

Jounouchi senior seemed to process this for a minute. He looked back and forth between the steak, and his son's firm expression.

Then he grinned widely.

"Eh, heh~ Homemade lunches, huh?" he asked.

"Huh?" Joey's brow wrinkled.

His father giggled and slapped Joey on the shoulder. Before pulling him into a hug. Before talking conspiratorially into his ear.

"Listen, you shouldn't do too much for women," his father warned. "You'll get further if you play it cool."

"Huh?" Joey repeated.

Jounouchi senior sighed. "But, then again, with the tail you're getting, I guess you hardly need your old man's advice."

This was not something that Joey wanted to consider for too long. He supposed it was possible his dad at least had an idea of Mai's existence, but that was a fire he preferred not to fan. Mai had a corvette and a body like dynamite, and Joey didn't need his dad getting any wise ideas about either of those things.

"Hehe," Joey's dad laughed. "You're a chip off the old block, huh? Don't break too many hearts, stud." He ruffled Joey's hair and walked off to help himself to the rice and mackerel.

Joey waited, until his dad left the kitchen, to shiver and fix his hair.

He got the sandwich rolls from the oven. The cheese, the lettuce, the sauce. He dished out the meat inside of them, and wrapped them up. He had enough meat for three sandwiches – although the final one was a bit skimpier than the others.

The empty pan was greasy from having cooked the meat, and Joey eyed it suspiciously.

He hadn't allowed himself to try any of the meat but, surreptitiously, like he was getting away with something, he felt to make sure the pan wasn't too hot. He ran his finger through the beef residue and canola oil coating it, and licked his finger clean.

Shit, it really was top quality, Joey realised. Once more, he glanced suspiciously to the sides, before taking a heaping pile of rice from the rice cooker, and slamming it to fry in the pan.

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"All the files predating the latest turn of the century," Kaiba said. "Satou will know what needs to be scanned, and what just needs to be shredded. Don't overwhelm her."

Having finished giving these instructions, Kaiba didn't seem particularly interested in following what Joey was doing. Joey took a moment to lean back on his heels and press his back against the back of Kaiba's armchair. Kaiba leaned against the opposite side, and tapped his fingers against his computer keyboard.

Joey reached for the handle on the nearest filing cabinet, and pulled it open under the safe haven of the Blue Eyes statue outside the glass wall.

He pulled the first file, ten centimetres up, so it peeked out over the top of the drawer, and began to flip through it. It was a yellowing old thing, and he wasn't able to register much more, before he dropped the file, instinctively, and pulled his hand away before the drawer smashed shut on it.

Kaiba had stood in an instant. His palm was pressed flat on the front of the filing cabinet drawer.

His eyes narrowed on Joey.

"I told you to start with the second column of drawers! These-" Kaiba slammed the toe of his boot against the bottom drawer, which rung at a deep, vibrating pitch. "These are private," he hissed.

Kaiba's eyes held Joey's only a second, before he returned to his seat in his chair, and continued typing.

Joey opened the next drawer over. He started at the back of the drawer and worked his way up to the front. He barely looked at the text on the documents as he scanned them for dates. And he tossed the ones for Satou-chan lazily on top of the cabinet.

Kaiba was drinking his syrup-like coffee, seeing to his phone correspondence, and typing on the computer. The last time Joey had looked his way, Kaiba's eyes were rattling between the artefacts on his desk and the computer screen at high speed. His hands flipped pages. He was absorbed in work and not what he was putting in his mouth.

And Joey was starting to think he was going to get away with this when a minute later-

"Wheeler, where did this sandwich come from?"

Joey breathed to keep his shoulders from tensing. With an affected ease, he stacked a couple more folders on top of the cabinet for Satou-chan, before spinning casually on his heel.

Kaiba's pupils were no longer flashing across his desk. They were focussed on a singular point. He held the partly-eaten sandwich out accusingly in one hand. The kimchi-mayonnaise oozed accusatorily at Joey.

Joey blinked.

"Er, Mokuba showed me this one place. Some fancy… European-" he decided, "-deli."

This was a fairly good bet so far as what to say. Mokuba had promised to back Joey up on the issue of his brother's meals, and the associated costs thereof.

"It seems homemade." Kaiba said these words in a decidedly neutral tone, careful and measured. So that if Joey got defensive it could only be taken as proof of his guilt.

"Yeah, well, you know how these places are." Joey waved his hand and hoped it accurately communicated some shared factor between fancy-ass delis. "You know, only the freshest ingredients. Prepared to order on the spot. Trying to imitate that homey, just-like-mom-used-to-make style..."

"Hn."

Kaiba's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He allowed himself to take an overlarge bite of the sandwich. His mouth chewed in a circular pattern, and he glared at Joey the entire time.

"It's good," he said, as if he found this highly offensive.

Joey couldn't help but let the corner of his mouth rise with sardonic pride. He crossed his arms and leaned forward a bit, to loom over Kaiba.

"Yeah, Kaiba. That's usually how those places are – good," he mocked.

"Hn." Kaiba seemed to almost growl. He glared venomously and ridiculously with his mouth around the sandwich.

Joey broke eye contact first. He slapped another file on top of his pile – not even caring if it was for the right dates. He collected them, and refused to acknowledge Kaiba's eyes on him as he walked them out to Satou-chan.

"Delivery," he said as he dropped them on Satou-chan's deck.

Satou-chan had taken the lid off her coffee cup, and blew the steam off of it. She frowned curtly at the collection of work Joey had so kindly delivered to her.

Joey walked back into Kaiba's office. The door had been left open.

Kaiba had returned to not looking at him. And Joey resolved to work slower collecting the next batch of folders – so Satou-chan wouldn't be too upset. He let his fingers linger over the manila edges of the file folders. He batted the little index labels back and forth with his index finger – and memorised the curved strokes of permanent marker that made up the letters and numbers.

The foil that had once held the sandwich was balled up in the trash.

"Um, Kaiba, can I ask you a question about work?" Joey interrupted the silence, as he finished with the first of six filing cabinets.

"Hn?" Kaiba grunted as he flipped through a diagram, which was about as much of an invitation as Joey expected or needed.

"Does the company take time off for Golden Week? Am I gonna be coming in over vacation?"

For a minute Kaiba only grumbled, but then he collapsed back in his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest, and his right foot over his left knee.

"You tell me, Wheeler," Kaiba began in a bored voice. "Does the general public of Japan stop going to amusement parks, watching movies, playing games, or otherwise pursuing leisure activities during a week that almost everybody has off from work and school?" His tone had turned decidedly sarcastic and mocking by this point. "Would it be at all wise for Kaiba Corporation to shut its offices during one of the busiest times a year for the entertainment industry?"

Joey reached up and scratched the back of his head. "Um… no?"

"Then there's your answer," Kaiba snarled. "I don't want to hear another complaint from your whiney self."

"Whatever you say, tight ass." Joey made a point of sighing.

Kaiba went back to his work, satisfied.

Joey snickered to himself as he turned back to the files. It was better anyway. His debt to Kyoutarou would be eating up so much of his salary, it was good to be on schedule to try and regain some of that loss.

It was really too easy, Joey thought, to let Kaiba believe he had the upper hand.

Kaiba kicked him out of his office when he had to leave for his meetings. And Satou got him started on shredding and scanning the documents she had pulled out of the files. But it was a several day project, done lazily between Satou-chan's other work, and Joey's commitment to picking up Mokuba after school. So he was in and out of Kaiba's office over the next few days – collecting the folders, and eventually transporting the ones Satou-chan had decided were to be retained back into their respective places in the cabinets. Which required a lot more paying attention to which files were which, and where they belonged in the great puzzle that was Kaiba Corp's organisation, than Joey had given when he pulled them out of the cabinets.

So, when Joey discovered himself the bearer of an unusual honour – being privy to the phone conversation that rattled through Kaiba's office at nine-thirty that one morning – he assumed it was just a coincidence. Seeing as he was spending far too much time in Kaiba's office space nowadays.

That there might be other possibilities didn't occur to him until far later.

Either way, the word 'responsibility' shot out in Kaiba's voice, in the middle of the conversation, and Joey's ears piqued defensively at the sound, and then he was drawn in.

Kaiba's brow was furrowed, as he spoke into the speaker.

"It is your responsibility, as the Kaiba Corp vice president, to be present for the premiere."

The vice president's voice was quieter, harder to hear from this side of the telephone line. But it must have been getting louder, because Joey could hear him, when he listened closely.

"It's funny how I only have responsibilities whenever it suits you. I don't see you deferring to the company handbook whenever I try to take on responsibilities you don't want me interfering with."

"This isn't a joke, Mokuba," Kaiba pressed on. "This is an important part of Kaiba Corp's current business strategy. It is an important event, where we need to present ourselves as a strong and unified team."

Mokuba's response was too quiet for Joey to hear. Kaiba wrapped his finger in the edge of a sheet of white printer paper on his desk.

"Then reschedule," Kaiba said.

"No!" Mokuba said. "You reschedule!"

"Mokuba, it's a Golden Week premiere," Kaiba said. The tone of voice was familiar to Joey. It was the understated, mocking you-should-know-better voice. "I can't reschedule a nation-wide movie premiere, one that is crucial for the company, on your whims."

"No," Mokuba agreed. "But you can and did schedule the event on a day that you knew was important to me. One that I told you in advance I would be busy on, and was having a friend over for."

Kaiba's expression flared up. His right hand gripped the arm of his chair until it was white.

"What do you want me to say?" Kaiba demanded. "That I want you at the event? That I need you? Want me to beg?"

His voice was laden heavy with bitter, venomous sarcasm. Almost as heavy as it was laden with miserable, sincere desperation.

"No!" Mokuba shouted back. "Because if you wanted me at this event, if you needed me at this event, you would have scheduled it for some time other than the one day a year I have other plans!" Mokuba huffed bitterly. "And – you know what? – I think you did it on purpose!"

Kaiba snorted, like an angry bull.

"This is baseless paranoia."

Mokuba barely paused.

"Oh, because you'd know the difference between paranoia and a completely reasonable suspicion, Seto," Mokuba snarled.

Kaiba looked livid. But, between the harsh angry lines that formed on his face, Joey saw something different.

Kaiba was afraid. Kaiba was haunted. Kaiba was guilty.

Mokuba could not see his brother's face though, from across the phone, so he capitalised on his brother's silence.

"One day!" Mokuba was shouting. "One day, out of three hundred and sixty five and a quarter days in the whole year that's important to me! One day that's not about you!" Mokuba laughed harshly. "But of course you can't stand that, can you, nii-sama? And that I might have a friend that's willing to spend it honouring something that's important to me, is just a step too far, isn't it?"

Kaiba's lip wrinkled, and the hand holding the phone did not look at all steady. And Joey wasn't going to listen to any more of this.

Having dropped his stack of files and folders on top of the file cabinets, Joey slunk around behind Kaiba's chair. He slouched over the top of it, the collar of his shirt brushing the hair on the top of Kaiba's head, and snatched for the phone in Kaiba's hands.

Joey couldn't see Kaiba's reaction, but although his grip tightened as Joey pried the phone from him, he didn't stop Joey from taking it either.

Joey eased back, smiling smugly as he sauntered out to the side of Kaiba's desk. He brought the phone to his ear.

"Hey- Hey-!" Joey said, barking over Mokuba's rant. "Yea- Mokie? This is Joey."

Mokuba's tirade stopped.

Mokuba coughed. He cleared his throat and harrumphed, bringing himself to silence.

For a second, the room was blissfully silent, before Joey pressed forward carelessly.

"Listen~" Joey flicked his finger against the antennae on the phone console. "Maybe you should cut your brother some slack, hey?"

Mokuba huffed impatiently. "Jounouchi, you don't know what you're getting in the middle of, so why don't you-"

"Oh, c'mon, Mokie," Joey prompted. He leaned to sit against Kaiba's desk and crossed his legs. "I may not know much. But I do know, whatever problems you guys are having, you love your brother and-"

Joey couldn't get another word out.

"Tell him that!" Mokuba screamed into the line.

Joey cringed and held the phone away from his ear.

Something had gone wrong. He swivelled around to look at Kaiba.

Their eyes met, but Kaiba's were inscrutable. They turned to Joey, dead and expressionless. Kaiba's mouth was hidden, where he'd propped his head up against crossed fingers.

The phone seemed to rattle in Joey's hand. Even at the distance, Mokuba's voice came through loud and clear.

"Tell nii-sama that! It's not me that needs to hear it! I love him! I'd do anything – go up against the entire world for his sake!"

It was unpleasant. Mokuba's voice washed around him – a wave about to collapse.

"I love my brother! I already know that! It's him that won't fucking believe me – no matter what I do! It's him that keeps on trying to get me to jump through hoops to try and prove it to him!"

Mokuba's voice was breaking. Gasping for breath. Holding back the tremor of watery hiccups.

"I love him! I'd do anything if it'd help him! It's him that doesn't believe me!"

The call cut out with a harsh click. Joey grimaced. His ears were still ringing.

Kaiba's office was quiet and bright and white. The door out to Satou-chan's reception desk, and the lounge, were closer. The room seemed to hum in the silence left after the storm.

Joey replaced the phone against its stand on Kaiba's desk.

"I guess he was kinda angry," he laughed anxiously. "Huh, Kaiba?"

Kaiba's eyes met his briefly, before looking away again. He was still wearing the same inscrutable expression he had been a moment ago. His hands were covering his mouth.

And then slowly, his eyes drooped and collapsed shut. He dropped his head into his hands – let them over his eyes as he rubbed at his forehead.

"I can't do this," he mumbled.

Kaiba had not spoken loudly enough to warrant a response, but Joey wasn't about to sit in awkward silence as Kaiba became uncomfortably emotional.

"Do what, moneybags?" Joey prompted. He kept babbling instead of waiting for an answer. "Fight with Mokuba? We all have fights with our families and the people we care about. You get over it. Pick yourself up. Move on. Joke. Make breakfast."

Kaiba grumbled angrily. "We – Mokuba and I – don't have fights," he hissed.

Well, it kinda sounds like you do.

Joey let it be. When Kaiba didn't say anything, he returned to the folders and the file cabinets, and reading their labels without really reading them.

Kaiba didn't move as Joey continued working. Joey rearranged the NIS-91 project folders into the drawers. He double checked the folders around it - trying to determine if he had returned it to the right place.

And then Kaiba spoke again.

"I can't do this. I can't do this without Mokuba," he croaked. "I don't want to go…"

He seemed to eat the last words as they fell from his mouth.

Joey was, once again, aware that Kaiba wasn't speaking to him. But it seemed wrong to ignore him all the same.

"What?" Joey asked. "You don't want to go to… the movie premiere?" He snorted. "What? Scared of watching a big, bad movie all by yourself? It can't be that bad, Kaiba."

If it was a misunderstanding, it was a misunderstanding that Kaiba was willing to run with.

He dropped his hands from his face and sank back in his chair.

His eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Spoken exactly like a no-nothing idiot," Kaiba said.

It didn't have the usual heat to it, but Joey was glad Kaiba was starting to sound more like himself again.

"This is a business event, Wheeler," he continued. "It's not going to see a movie. It's about connections and image and making sure this endeavour will be a success on the marketplace."

Joey felt his annoyance pique. Just a touch.

Which was a good thing. It was something he could actually use when talking to Kaiba.

"Yea-? And why would I know about any of that crap?" Joey challenged. "I've never been to one of these shindigs. What would I know about connections or marketing?" he jeered.

"You wouldn't know," Kaiba agreed, deflecting snippily. "It's Mokuba that knows. It's Mokuba that always goes to these things with me."

Joey grumbled in agreement.

The silence dragged out again, but Joey was starting to think imbetween the pauses as he shuffled folders around Kaiba's filing cabinets.

"Hey, you know what, Kaiba?!"

Kaiba didn't say anything. He turned warily to Joey.

"You should take me to your movie premiere since you've got an empty plus-one spot and all!" he announced.

Kaiba's eyes glossed over like the dead. He crossed his arms over on his chest, and frowned.

"Hey, c'mon, it's a great idea!" Joey defended. He relocated himself to the front of Kaiba's desk, so he could make his pitch in form. "You say it's not all fun and games like I think. You say I'm talking out my ass about this whole movie event thing. Well, take me along and show me what it's all about~"

Take me along and you won't have to go alone, was the real threat.

Kaiba shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He pursed his lips.

He did not call Joey's bluff, but he did go off in an entirely different direction.

"Hn, it seems like it might give the wrong impression," he admitted. He waited another moment before elaborating. "This is the type of event that you'd usually attend with a significant other."

Joey blinked.

Kaiba groaned and pulled at his bangs. "A date, Wheeler," he clarified.

Joey huffed. "I'm not that goddamn stupid, Kaiba. But you just told me you usually attend with Mokuba so, unless you're telling me Mokuba is your 'significant other'…"

Kaiba looked downright murderous.

"Wheeler, if you ever make such an insinuation again, I'll-"

Joey talked over him. "…Then I don't see what the problem with taking me is," he finished.

There was another moment of silence.

"Hn," Kaiba grunted noncommittally. He rested his elbows on the top of his desk, interlaced his fingers, and rested his chin on his hands. His eyebrow twitched, and he glared down at Joey's knees and the carpeted floor behind them.

Joey snorted. "I'm just saying… I'm not gay. And you're not gay-"

One of Kaiba's elbows slipped out from under him.

"-so I don't know what you're worried about," Joey concluded soundly. "It's not a date. So nobody's gonna think it is."

Kaiba had caught himself, before his torso hit the desk. He leaned back in his chair and considered this, blank faced.

"Nobody's going to think that?" he muttered to himself. "No. No, you're right. They wouldn't… Wouldn't dare… It doesn't mean anything, so there's nothing for them to read into…"

"Exactly!" Joey agreed. Unsure why Kaiba had chosen this point to perseverate on. "Nothing to worry about."

Kaiba still seemed unsure. He was scratching the back of his hand idly, and his face was still tense.

As Kaiba sat there silently, it occurred to Joey that he might rapidly be losing the traction he'd gained in this argument, and his place at the movie premiere with it.

"I- I know-" Joey announced in one last bid to secure himself the ticket. "I can be your personal secretary for the event!"

This had its intended effect. Joey could almost see, as Kaiba immediately stopped thinking, and instead focused his eyes on Joey with a mix of scepticism and distaste.

"Yeah!" Joey crowed, smiling brightly. "I'll come and take notes for you – on the movie and the other guests and everything. It'll be like a job. After all, who knows when you'll need someone around to do menial tasks and run for energy drinks."

Slowly the scepticism wore away, and something approximating relief seemed to break out over Kaiba's face.

"That's… actually not a bad idea," Kaiba allowed. "You'd be there simply in a professional capacity."

"Yea-" Joey agreed.

"Yes, professional," Kaiba reassured again. "Hn," he closed his eyes and considered for a moment.

When he opened them, he had a plan.

"Your shift will be moved to coincide with the time of the event on Saturday Evening. You will arrive at fifteen o'clock, dressed appropriately in formal wear, and will accompany me as my secretary for the evening. You will speak to Satou about this aberration in your schedule."

And then he waved his arm in a way that communicated Joey was dismissed – only halfway done with filing or not.

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"Hehehe~" Joey cackled on the phone to Anzu. "And that's how I scored a seat at the world premiere of The Return of Banja: the Robot Dragon of Eons Lost."

Joey did a karate kick and struck a pose. Just to express his excitement.

"Well… I guess it's good that you're having fun…" Anzu said through the phone, in a tone that suggested anything but.

"Damn straight!" Joey cheered into the receiver. He tossed his shoes down in the sink.

..

"And that's how I scored a seat at the world premiere of The Return of Banja: the Robot Dragon of Eons Lost."

"Hey, man, what I tell you about running all your dumbass Kaiba problems by me?"

Blanket whined from where she was lying on Joey's torso. She licked softly at his hand, as he scratched the underside of her chin.

"I wasn't talking to you, was I?!" Joey snapped back. "I was talking to Blanky, wasn't I?"

Honda finished up under the hood of the car. He walked over to where Blanket and Joey were lying on the couch, on the opposite end of the garage. He slouched over the back of the couch, and ran a hand, slick with machine grease, through both Blanket's fur and Joey's hair.

"You're so full of shit, Jou~" he snickered.

..

"And that's how I scored a seat at the world premiere of The Return of Banja: the Robot Dragon of Eons Lost."

Yuugi was packing things into a big black duffel bag nearly as big as he was. He considered a pair of hair brushes, and set one in the bag, and another on his bed. He considered a pair of scrunchies as well, before throwing one in his bag, and using the other to wrangle his hair in a stiff ponytail.

He was spending Golden Week on a camping trip with the rest of his college department. It was apparently an important "bonding exercise". Because spending days on end going to school together and droning on about the history of ideas wasn't enough of a bonding exercise, apparently.

But even Joey couldn't find it in himself to be upset about it, with Banja on the horizon.

"I'm really glad you and Kaiba-kun are getting along," Yuugi's eyes shone bright and excited. "It would be really great if all three of us could meet up sometime."

Yuugi stalled, almost imperceptibly.

"I mean… I'm relieved Kaiba-kun's talking to you," he explained. "But I'd really like to catch back up with him too, after five years… Maybe we can get everyone from high school back together! Bakura-kun and the others too!"

Joey didn't feel nearly as enthusiastic. Yuugi's opinion of Kaiba had always been a bit… warm… for Joey's tastes. Not to mention Kaiba was kind of, well, Kaiba-ish. He looked like hell, and was prone to pitching fits like a little kid. He might be kind of embarrassed to meet up with the others who had actually spent the last five years growing up. He should be.

"Yeah. Maybe," Joey said. He grinned. "But lemme tell you how awesome Golden Week's gonna be!"

..

"What's with you today?" Mai laughed suddenly, in the middle of their conversation.

"Huh?" Joey was on the metro, going home. He had his arm wrapped around a handrail, curled back to hold the phone to his face. And he wobbled, double stepped playfully, as the train accelerated forward. "What do you mean?"

"I just mean you seem really happy." Mai's voice sounded almost sultry. "Anything in particular happen?"

Joey leveraged his weight against the handrail, and leaned back into an unsuspecting passenger, who huffed in annoyance.

"Er- Nah, not really." He was aware he wasn't exactly being convincing. "I guess it just must be that talking to you makes me happy." Joey let his face fall into a lazy grin. He was proud of that one.

Two days until Saturday.

"You're just a hopeless flatterer, Joey." Mai tisked in a way that said she wasn't fooled. But she seemed pleased anyhow.

.

.

"Satou-sempai, don't you think Joey-kun is being favoured too much?" Keiko picked up a piece of fried chicken skin. She held it by two points, triangular between her thumb and index finger, and examined it sceptically as she sipped at the edge of her glass – sake and oolong.

Satou-chan smiled inscrutably. "I don't really think it's my place to judge Kaiba-sama's business decisions." She sipped at her beer. "Or Kaiba-sama's personal decisions."

"Oh, come on," Keiko huffed. "Don't act like you're above it. I was only saying what everyone else was already thinking!"

Miyoshi and Mami sat silently, eyes glancing intent between the different members of the party. They didn't confirm or deny.

But the real betrayal was Satou-chan, who only hummed ponderously to herself as she took another draught of beer.

"Mean. Mean. You guys are mean!" Joey pouted. "Accusing me of sucking up…" He made an overwrought display of sulking into his drink. He'd only made it halfway through his first glass.

"If the shoe fits, Joey-kun," Keiko said wryly.

"Now, now," Miyoshi smiled. "It's kind of to be expected, isn't it? They've known each other since high school. That kind of connection should be worth something in a professional environment, right?"

"Ne-po-tism," Keiko said. "That's nepotism."

"An old boy's club…?" Mami blinked through her intoxication. "I wish I could invite my friends to movie premieres… Satou-san, do you like movies?"

Satou-chan shrugged. She twirled a bit of calamari around her finger.

"Maybe I'll go see Banja-san on my day off," she said. "It's not the usual type of genre I'd go for, but it's good to keep up with what the company is doing."

"Ahh, so devoted~" Mami marvelled.

"Joey-kun can't even dress properly in business wear everyday… And he gets invited to a movie premiere with the boss…" Keiko sulked.

"So mean, Keiko~" Joey said. "But, you'll see! I've got my duds all picked out for the event already." He smiled proudly to himself. "I'll be all dressed up for the role – like somebody who deserves to be there," he announced proudly.

Keiko flicked a slice of cucumber at him. It hit him square in the forehead.

"Yeah, you better be dressed for the role," she sulked. "And don't say that, Joey-kun. I didn't say you don't deserve to be there." She signalled to Miyoshi, who reached over and pinched Joey's cheek fondly in her stead.

And so, at three o'clock in the afternoon on Saturday, Joey walked into Kaiba's office, decked out in his fanciest digs, and immediately did a double take.

"P-Pinstripes?!" he squeaked.

Kaiba turned at the sound of his voice. The pinstripes seemed to rustled over his shoulders as he turned, golden lines of crops moving on a sea of navy blue. He was wearing a light blue tie and, for once, looked completely respectable.

"What was that, Wheeler?" he asked.

"Nothing!" Joey answered quickly. "Nothing at all."

He wasn't blushing.

Kaiba didn't seem to be focused on the red ghosting his cheeks though. His eyes were narrowed at Joey's torso.

"Wheeler- What are you wearing?"

Joey couldn't stop himself from following Kaiba's eyes down.

"Um… a suit?" he said, unsure what Kaiba was getting at.

Kaiba shook his head firmly. His eyes were trained downward though, glaring.

"The suit-" Kaiba's nose wrinkled "-is an issue in of itself," he finished. "But the shoes are my real concern."

Joey looked down at his shoes. They looked a little grungy. But he had washed them before he left, so they wouldn't stain the carpet.

"Eh, what about 'em?" he asked.

Kaiba rolled his eyes. But the immaturity of the gesture didn't match his next words.

"You can't wear those shoes to my movie premiere, Wheeler!" he hissed angrily.

"I'll wear whatever shoes I feel like, Kaiba!" Joey spat back, instinctively. "And anyhow," he calmed, "these are the best shoes I have." He gazed down fondly at them.

"Wheeler," Kaiba said firmly. "They're sneakers… And they're not even nice ones. There's a hole straight through the top of the left one."

"That just gives them character!" Joey protested. "Do you even know what kind of shoes they are?!"

Kaiba looked at him blankly.

"They're Air Muscles! You know!"

Joey gestured wildly. Kaiba didn't seem to get it.

"Man, Air Muscles…?! You don't know what kinda cred we used to get for these babies." Joey shook his head disparagingly. "But more importantly, this pair of shoes is holy! Sacred! Lucky! – I saved up for a whole year to be able to buy these puppies. And I got 'em at a huge discount, but I didn't get to wear them even a day, before these punks jumped in outta nowhere and stole 'em."

Joey grinned, in reminiscence. He pulled his fist close to his heart.

"But Yuugi went and fought to get them back for me – all by himself. And this was just when we first met!" Joey's face coloured. He lifted his hand up to scratch the top of his head bashfully. "I like to think it was my good influence."

Kaiba's arms were crossed. He looked completely unimpressed.

"These shoes might not seem like much," Joey said proudly. "But they're a symbol of mine and Yuugi's everlasting friendship! So they're the best shoes to wear anywhere – the perfect shoes to wear to your party!"

Kaiba said nothing for a minute. Then-

"Wheeler… You are not wearing a seven-year-old pair of ripped up old sneakers to my premiere."

Joey's story had apparently not budged Kaiba an inch. Joey didn't know what he expected, from a heartless freak like Kaiba.

Joey sneered.

"Why? What'cha gonna do to stop me, moneybags?"

For some reason, Joey had expected Kaiba to call security. Or give him the silent treatment. Or yell, or threaten to ban him from attending the event. He was then completely unprepared, when Kaiba answered his challenge by sliding forward, and preforming a complicated judo flip. He slammed Joey, face down, onto the carpeted floor, and proceeded to wrestle the shoes off himself.

"No- No! Fuck you, you bastard!" Joey yelled. He swung his legs back at the knees, to kick up at Kaiba. "Those are Yuugi's special shoes! You can't have them, you bastard!"

Kaiba was trying to pin his legs down and hold him still, as he pulled at the heels of the shoes. He ripped angrily at the shoelaces.

Kaiba was strong – much stronger than his slim figure would suggest – but he wasn't that strong. Joey reared his chest up and flailed against him. Kaiba had pressed a knee and an elbow into Joey's lower back, but Joey found himself holding back from throwing Kaiba off. There was a hint of laughter bubbling up in Joey's throat. He couldn't be sure what Kaiba was thinking, but he wasn't entirely convinced this wasn't a joke they were somehow sharing.

"Shoe thief! Shoe thief!" he shouted out, as if trying to publically expose Kaiba, although they were tucked away, alone in the privacy of the top office.

Kaiba growled, but didn't say anything. He finally managed to rip one of the sneakers off, and he flung it to the other side of the room, where its dirty sole hit the immaculate spines on the bookshelf, and fell flat down to the floor.

"Shoe thief," Joey laughed.

"Shut up," Kaiba said brusquely. "I don't want your damn shoes. You can have them back once you're done accompanying me for the night."

"Shoe thief!" Joey insisted.

But he didn't struggle too much before allowing Kaiba to pull the second shoe off, and send it flying across the room after the first. Joey heard it clatter against the wood and fall.

And then they were silent.

Joey felt Kaiba's arms fall slack, and shift quietly away. Joey breathed, a little more heavily than usual, into the carpet. And Kaiba's breath was also heavy, and it sunk into a complementary disharmony with Joey's.

They waited a moment, before Joey flipped himself over, onto his back. He stretched his torso up, and extended his legs, half bent, to sit up on the carpet. He grinned mirthfully at Kaiba, and wriggled his toes in his holey socks.

Kaiba was not smiling back. He was frowning sullenly. He had one hand draped over his face, to ward off his despair. The other hand was loosely clutching a white cleansing wipe, with dark fingerprints peppered across it. He must have retrieved it from his suit pocket.

Kaiba's legs were tense. They were pulled defensively up against his chest.

"Kaiba?" Joey prompted, ignoring whatever was even happening on Kaiba's stupid face. "What time do we gotta be at the thing?"

The bookshelves breathed easily. All the files had been neatly arranged in their drawers. The succulent next to the filing cabinet beamed a bright green in the sun. The Blue Eyes White Dragon statue was poised protectively outside the window.

"Hn," Kaiba grumbled. He did not attempt to answer Joey's question. "What was I thinking – taking you as my guest?" he asked. "Some piss poor loon straight out of the slums?!" he spat. "With an ugly grey tweed suit and a bad dye job." He snorted. "Your eyebrows don't even match!" He growled, looking at Joey's brown eyebrows, against the bright blonde of his bangs. "What was I thinking?" he repeated, muttering darkly under his breath.

"Hmm…" Joey shrugged. "I dunno, Kaiba. Tryin' to figure out why you decide to do anything would be a fulltime job in of itself."

Kaiba huffed wryly. Something that looked a whole lot like a smile flitted momentarily across his face.

"Why do you bleach your hair, Wheeler?" he asked. "It makes you look like a thug." Kaiba's tongue paused on his teeth, just for a moment. He shook his head. "You're not a thug," he said.

Coming from Kaiba, that sounded a whole lot like personal acknowledgement.

Joey felt himself startle, slightly, before stumbling into an answer.

"I dunno… I like my hair like this." He reached up to run a finger across the fringe of his bangs. "I think bleached hair suits me. I mean- I guess I was just trying to seem like a tough and intimidating kinda guy at first, but it kinda grew on me after a while."

Mai had also said it suited him. She had burrowed her fingers into his scalp, and had run her nails through the pale strands. She had her own hair treatments done at some beauty salon, and she'd offered to take him with her so they could get their hair dyed together.

Joey had refused, on the grounds of such an activity being too girly. But, really, he knew wherever Mai got her hair done would be expensive, and he didn't want Mai to have to treat him.

"And, anyhow, it doesn't matter if the hair makes people assume I'm a thug or a wannabe punk or whatever. It's not like I'm ever going to look like an upright citizen, so I may as well just do what I like," Joey concluded.

Kaiba's face was blank, except for the way his brow wrinkled slightly.

"Yanno-" Joey felt himself hasten to explain. "Everybody can tell I'm half just by looking at me, so~"

Kaiba snorted.

"Half-witted, you mean," he said. But the end of the sentence curled up, with the tiniest hint of a question.

"No," Joey said persistently. "Half… You know- Only half Japanese."

Kaiba said nothing.

Joey frowned.

"You know- My dad's American. But he's half Chinese, too." God it was confusing, but- "You knew that," Joey insisted.

"Of course," Kaiba said smoothly, after a beat. "It would have been foolish of me not to have put that together…"

But Joey had become too good at reading Kaiba's tells. He'd seen the exact moment in Kaiba's eyes when everything clicked, and the long unexamined evidence snapped together in Kaiba's head, fully formed.

"What the hell?!" Joey demanded. "You had to have known! I mean- Everybody knows! As soon as they look at me!"

Kaiba had nothing to say to this.

Joey pulled at his neck, scratched the skin, frustrated.

"You've been calling me Wheeler since forever! Did you think that was for no reason?!"

Kaiba stared at him for a moment, then broke eye contact.

"Perhaps I assumed it was a tactless nickname you coined for yourself, seeing as your real name was so poorly constructed," Kaiba admitted vaguely.

Joey grumbled to himself.

Well, Kaiba wasn't wrong. But Wheeler was also his dad's English surname, so-

Joey frowned. He let his hands and his gaze drop down to his lap. He fiddled with his thumbs.

"I can't believe you didn't know," Joey said. "Everybody knows. As soon as they look at me," he repeated.

He felt oddly cheated. Like finding out you'd built your sandcastle too close to the shore, and watching the waves wash in and disintegrate it.

Serenity had cried. When that happened.

Kaiba sighed.

Everybody knows just by looking, Joey thought. I don't get to choose how people see me. You have to believe me.

It was something like kindness, when Kaiba didn't point out the obvious flaw in this logic. Kaiba was somebody, so if he hadn't known… Kaiba sighed again, and pulled himself up to his feet.

"Get up," he commanded. "Let's go."

.

.

"This is your fault. We're late because of you."

Kaiba glared at his phone, as he silenced it for what seemed like the fortieth time.

Joey was leaning against the car door, facing sideways across the backseat row. Kaiba was sitting opposite him at a safe distance. He refused to look at Joey in return.

Joey squirmed. The silk fabric of the suit he'd been dressed in tingled against his skin. It felt too delicate for comfort. And his feet didn't seem to fit right in the dark leather shoes Kaiba's assistant had forced upon him.

"We're late because you wouldn't just take us straight to the premiere." Joey protested. "You're the one that insisted on putting me in this fancy English suit."

Joey wasn't about to admit it had been kind of cool to see the Kaiba Corp Film Studio costume department. The ladies on staff had gone at him with a measuring tape, stripped him to his boxers and socks, and pulled a black and grey suit from a rack filled with clown costumes and brightly coloured dresses and sailor uniforms and fursuits.

"If you had any idea how to outfit yourself-" Kaiba snarled. "And Armani is Italian, you idiot. Can't you hear it's not an English name?"

Joey ignored the linguistics lesson.

"Yeah, 'cause you have such a good grasp on how to dress yourself." Joey stretched his arms up and laced them behind his head. His knuckles hit the glass of the car window. "I suppose we're lucky you don't have any belts strapped to your arms today."

"Hn." Kaiba was distracted by the need to silence his ringing phone again.

Joey's eyes traced Kaiba's profile. The arch of his brow, and his long eyelashes and the delicate curve of his cheek, and the sharpness of his nose and chin. His neck stretched down into the collar of his pinstriped suit, and turned over a thin shoulder.

He looked away and reminded himself that Kaiba wasn't pretty. Not in any conventional sense, anyhow.

The driver made a sharp turn around the corner, rushing to make up lost time.

Joey jolted as he lurched in his seat, pressed back against the door. He'd almost forgotten about the driver, separated from the front seat by a tinted glass panel.

"Like you were in such a rush to come to this thing," Joey complained. "You barely wanted to come in the first place. You dawdled and you know it." He pointed to Kaiba with an arched eyebrow, urging him to concede this point.

"Hn." Kaiba had apparently lost interest in their argument. He was looking at his phone. "I don't know why they just can't be patient. I've already informed them I'm on the way."

Joey snorted. He found himself agreeing in his mind. "It's not like they can start the party without you. You're the most important person there."

Joey refused to look this time, when Kaiba turned to him.

There were a couple more beeps from Kaiba's phone, but Joey made a point to stare out the dark tinted window he couldn't see through. He fell into a trance, watching his eyes reflected back at him, until the car jolted to a stop.

They were being dropped at the curbside in front of a grand theatre.

The door was wrenched open. And Joey stumbled out of the backseat, opposite of Kaiba. He hurried to catch up, and slowed down to take in the scenery.

It didn't exactly have the ambiance that Joey thought it would – not flashing cameras and red carpets, like American celebrities. The plaza in front of the theatre had been emptied save a dozen or so people. There was a half devoured tower of champagne glasses stacked to one side of the plaza, and a to-scale plastic model of Banja on the other, looming over the glamorous emptiness. The light from a pair of spotlights blended unevenly into the dusk.

Kaiba was rushing – long legged strides – and Joey rushed to catch up. He loped forward in a light jog, and marvelled at the gauche beauty of the theatre, like something out of a European fairy tale. It was strange he had never noticed the theatre's spiny towers on Domino's skyline before.

Kaiba rammed his foot against the brand new shoes he'd outfitted Joey in, scuffing them. Joey stumbled backwards.

"Oi! Watch it!" Joey bristled.

"Stay one pace behind me," Kaiba commanded. "Don't walk with your hands in your pockets. Try to look professional – like a secretary should." Kaiba paused. "Don't hand out unsolicited information. Don't trust anyone."

Joey glared at the back of Kaiba's head. He'd show Kaiba professional.

He fiddled – between the keys and phone and kerchief in his pocket. He found the pen and memo notepad he'd gotten out of Satou-chan's supplies. What was a secretary for? If not for secretating things or whatever?

He arranged the tip of the ballpoint against the paper:

Kaiba has a whole bunch of made-up rules for me to follow.
Rule #1: You can kiss my fucking ass, Kaiba.

This took up almost the whole page, and Joey flipped to the next one, intending to fill it with more insults, but he was distracted by a flash of light through the windows of the theatre, and then, once more, the twinkle of the champagne tower, and the spires against the sky.

Kaiba had turned to look down at him. There was something uncomfortable in his expression mixed in with the distaste. Something a bit, but not exactly, like pity.

"Close your mouth. Don't gape," Kaiba added to his list of rules.

Joey hurried to pull his jaw closed. He was annoyed to feel himself flush.

Kaiba was already a hundred metres off. An older businessman had met him halfway out the theatre, and hustled him in front of the model of Banja. A photographer had set up shop in front of them. And Kaiba and the businessman shook hands and turned to- well, Kaiba didn't smile at the camera as much as forcibly pummel the muscles in his face into a configuration that looked less tense.

By the time Joey caught up, they had dropped pretences. Kaiba moved his hand, with a calculated speed, directly out of the handshake, and folded it immediately beneath his armpit. Joey watched him hold it awkwardly, before brushing it off against the pinstripe fabric of his suit, hidden safely from the businessman's view by the crisscrossing lattice of Kaiba's arms.

"I was here as quickly as I could manage... Of course they waited." Kaiba sneered. "…most important…" he mumbled. "What else can they-"

He cut himself off as Joey stepped forward. His eyes panned sideways to meet Joey's. His expression had defaulted to an easy frown – carefully neutral.

The businessman looked between them.

Nobody said anything.

The camera flashed. And they all squinted at the light.

"Off the record, not for the press release," the cameraman reassured.

"I should think not." Kaiba was glaring.

Joey hesitated a moment. "Hey, buddy, do you think I could get a copy of that? It's not every day I get to pose with a bunch of bigwigs in front of a real dragon replica!"

He jabbed a finger back towards the model of Banja. It towered over them – far above even a hundred ninety centimetres of Kaiba – and grinned predatorily. Putting it that way, shouldn't it seem more intimidating? Joey squinted at it curiously for a second.

Why isn't this dragon scary at all? he jotted down very professionally in his notepad.

"So, uh, yeah. I'm Joey Wheeler," Joey introduced, as he struck the pen off the side of the pad with a flourish. He looked up to the businessman, glanced over to Kaiba, and then back. "I dunno if the movie's starting anytime soon or…"

"I remember you," the businessman said. A smug smile ghosted the edge of his lip. "Kaiba-sama introduced you when you interrupted the board meeting the other day. His personal assistant."

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Joey agreed. Although he didn't recognise the man.

There was a pause, during which nobody made any overtures to extend an introduction back to Joey.

"We're late," Kaiba sighed.

"I remember saying so, Kaiba-sama. And I remember you making it pretty clear everyone could wait for you."

Kaiba grunted in frustration. He turned to stalk off, and caught Joey's wrist on the way. He swivelled Joey back towards the entrance of the theatre, and then slammed the arm angrily against Joey's chest before letting go.

Joey snickered to himself – glad he'd managed to make a menace of himself. He waved to the cameraman and Kaiba's board member excitedly before jogging to catch up with Kaiba.

They walked the threshold into the theatre.

The lobby was decked out in royal blue carpet. And the overhead lights were made to look like crystals. They glowed bright and reflectant off the walls. The blue clashed wonderfully against the silver and orange that accented the stage props and photos from the movie production, set out in glass cases and frames for passers-by to marvel at.

Everything was crisp, clean, rich velvet. And Joey wanted to write something in the notepad, to somehow preserve the moment, but he couldn't think of anything before they approached the screening room.

The reel had started, and the Kaiba Corp logo moved over the screen like a ripple on water, right as they arrived at the corridor inside.

"Our seats are this way," Kaiba said, pointing into the darkness.

.

.

The figures on the screen were distinct enough to recognise without the full use of his vision. Takashi-kun's and Himeko-chan's and Banja's silhouettes were distinct and sharp, to make the characters easily recognisable and preserve brand recognition.

The credits were not so unique, and so the names blurred into illegibility behind Joey's tear filled eyes.

He bit his quivering lip and heard himself hiccup slightly. He retrieved Mai's handkerchief, from the pocket of Kaiba's silk suit, and wiped under his eyelids.

He might not be able to read the names of the cast, but he looked at the growing list of names, and thought about the legions of actors and actresses and writers and designers and workers that had made the movie possible.

He knew one of the names would be Kaiba Seto.

He knew that Keiko and Mami and Miyoshi and Satou-chan and Tsukuda and himself would not be listed on the screen. But they were part of it too.

It was good to be part of something big.

There was a post-credits gag. Banja's cosmic ghost companion Mizuko-chan crashed into an asteroid.

Joey laughed. The raised curl of his smiling cheeks created a shelf to stem the flow of his tears. He blinked at the changing light in the theatre, and rubbed at his eyes again, but he was still caught in the whirlwind of Banja and Takashi-kun's bond. And their mutual survival. And the sadness of their parting.

He glanced right, then left, then right again. Before he realised he recognised Kaiba's cold stare.

He turned quickly left again.

Kaiba made no effort to hide that he had been watching Joey, but his expression was less sharp than Joey expected.

"What?" Joey challenged. He wiped at his eyes again, as discreetly as he could manage, which was not very. He shoved Mai's handkerchief up his sleeve.

Kaiba's brow wrinkled in concentration. "You're very… expressive." He seemed to be struggling with the wording.

Around them people were moving. Exiting back out into the venue hall.

Joey frowned.

"Okay," he replied. He wasn't quite convinced he was being insulted. He readied himself for when Kaiba started with a more overt criticism.

It didn't happen exactly like that, though.

"You started crying at five different parts of the movie," Kaiba said. "You laughed on thirty-three different occasions. You exhibited a sharp intake of breath twelve times. And you would very often move between smiling and frowning in the space of several seconds."

Kaiba sounded more… intrigued than judgemental. Joey found himself unsettled.

It wasn't only that Kaiba had apparently spent the whole movie watching his reactions. That was par for the course. You could always count on Kaiba to be a giant weirdo.

It was that Joey hadn't counted on it. He had been so drawn in by what was happening on the screen, he had forgotten Kaiba was in the next seat at all. He hadn't worried in the slightest about looking like a wuss.

"So?" Joey said, a bit defensively. "It was a good movie. Touching. You're supposed to cry."

Kaiba's expression didn't budge.

"How can you watch Takashi-kun and Banja exchange tearful goodbyes and not be moved by it?!" Joey demanded, increasingly defensive. "The pureness of those emotions is supposed to touch you!"

Mai never cried either. Well, she did. Just not at movies.

Kaiba's face contorted. "You know it's fake. Right, Wheeler? …Takashi and Banja are just characters. Played by actors. Who are acting." When Joey didn't respond, he continued. "Mizuno Akihiko is Takashi. And Abe Saburo is the voice of Banja… There are no pure emotions. They're fake. They're putting on a performance."

Joey sniffled. His tears had stemmed, at least.

"Just because the scenario is made up, doesn't mean the emotions are fake."

Kaiba snorted. "You're weird," he said.

Joey frowned. But, again, he didn't feel exactly like he was being insulted. There was a juvenile curiosity in Kaiba's dismissal.

Kaiba stood up. He looked at Joey and jerked his head towards the exit, beckoning him along.

Joey scrambled up to climb down from the elevated VIP seats. He did not want to be left behind.

He pulled unevenly at his sleeve, as he walked. He retrieved Mai's handkerchief from where it had snaked down towards his elbow, and fiddled with its fringe, one last time, before stowing it away in his pocket and retrieving his secretary's spiral notepad.

He scribbled unconvinced. He listed Kaiba's statistics and squinted at them unsurely.

Laughed – 33. Gasped – 12. Cried – 5.

"Did you… not like the movie, Kaiba?" Joey asked uncertainly. It kind of grated, if Kaiba didn't even like his own movie. After he had tricked Joey into liking it.

Kaiba glanced back over his shoulder. He seemed taken aback.

"It was satisfactory," he said.

Joey relaxed a little bit. At least Kaiba didn't say he disliked it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Joey prodded, teasingly this time.

"I'm sure it will serve its intended purpose." Kaiba shrugged. "It wasn't unpleasant – Mokuba assured me of as much in advance."

It was kind of weird that Mokuba was the authority on Kaiba's own opinions about movies, but Joey decided to let it go.

Kaiba liked the movie. Joey wrote definitively on the notepad.

They walked a couple more paces.

Something seemed to occur to Kaiba. He glanced back again, unsure.

"Did… you enjoy the movie, Wheeler?" he asked belatedly. Tentatively.

Joey was confused Kaiba even had to ask. He had cried, hadn't he?

"Yea-" Joey breathed. "It was good."

"Hn... I'm glad." Kaiba turned away and nodded solemnly to himself.

The crowd seemed impossibly large, coming out of the screening room. What had been tucked away upon their entrance had spread out like a surge of brushfire on the way out.

The staff tried to direct the crowd back down the corridor, but they didn't seem to be making much progress. Cameras were flashing. Guests crisscrossed the hallway, waving at one another and greeting acquaintances. They lolled behind as they caught up with one another, either oblivious to the directives of the put-upon workers, or defiant of them.

Kaiba alone seemed intent on the progression from the screening room back towards the banquet hall. Joey followed on his heels.

"Don't ya have to go, yanno, mingle? Or something?" Joey asked

Kaiba grunted. "Later. Everyone's gotten in the habit of bombarding me with their 'pleasantries' during dinner."

Joey snickered. "Probably 'cause you're a grump that makes yourself hard to corner ahead of time."

"Hn. You understand then." Kaiba huffed in approximation of a laugh.

A couple of children ran across the hall in front of them, playing tag, and Kaiba had to stop and wait for them to pass.

Joey turned out to the crowd. There seemed to be a good number of kids at the premiere. It was a kid's movie, after all. It seemed like a lot of the guests had brought children or grandchildren to the show. There were fewer people their age. Joey tried to catch the eye of a particularly pretty babe, but his grin and the high wave of his hand didn't seem to command her attention. He redirected his attention to another woman, and then an older couple, each without success.

"Did you need something, sir?"

Joey turned. The workers at the theatre were dressed in royal blue uniforms. Little black vests.

Kaiba waited, looking back curiously.

"Oh, uh-" Joey faltered. He realised he didn't have anything to say to this person. And probably had just as little to say to the other guests.

"So, uh, where can I get some food around this joint?" Joey asked.

Kaiba huffed in annoyance.

The worker smiled – fake and indulgent. Or maybe they were happy to find someone that was finally amiable to being led in the right direction.

"Right this was, sir. Hors d'oeuvres will be brought out shortly."

"We were going this way to begin with," Kaiba groused, as they entered the beginnings of a banquet hall. There was a stage to the very front of the room, with a lavish purple curtain and someone playing at the grand piano. Everywhere else was blue and white and crystalline. Tables had been set out to one side of the room, away from an empty space of glossy hardwood flooring.

Most importantly, though-

"Oohh!" Joey cheered, pointing across the room rudely to where servers were beginning to disperse with trays. "I'm going to go see if I can track down some of those snacks!"

"They're going to come over to us whether you chase them down or not," Kaiba said, in vain, as Joey ran off.

The banquet hall was still relatively empty, and Joey managed to dive around the crowd with ease. He dove directly into the path of one of the servers, and studied the tray of identical appetisers. They were put together delicately on small black dishes – with bright red sauce dolloped with a pointed tip, and a flourish of green parsley.

He accepted one from the server and, by the time he made it back to Kaiba, he was convinced.

"Oh my god," Joey gushed. "Have you tried the sausage bread – or it's like sausage bread, but-"

Joey melted as he stuffed the next one into his mouth.

No, no. It was so buttery… and flaky. And the sausage was peppery and hearty, without being greasy. And they served it with some kind of spicy mayo fruit dip thing. It was nothing like the sausage bread they sold at the convenience store.

Kaiba looked at him with a vague expression of disgust.

"Who could have guessed," he muttered, "that a dog's loyalty could be bought with a couple of pigs in blankets?"

Joey stuffed the second to last sausage roll in his mouth.

"I know you're insulting me," he told Kaiba, speaking around his food. "I just don't care." He stuck out his tongue.

Kaiba recoiled.

"Here! You should try one!" Joey said, offering the last of the sausage rolls to Kaiba. "It's really good, I promise."

Kaiba pushed the plate away, wrinkled his nose, and gave Joey an unimpressed look.

"I've been to approximately a hundred of these gatherings," he said. "It should occur to you that I'm already familiar with what hors d'oeuvres I like."

Joey, who had been trying to figure out a way to stuff the last sausage roll in Kaiba's mouth, deflated. "Oh," he said.

Of course none of this was new for Kaiba but… he kind of wanted someone around to share the excitement of the premiere with.

He imagined what it would be like with Yuugi, or Honda, or Serenity here with him. It didn't seem like the kind of thing that would impress Anzu, but it would still be new for her at least. And none of it would have been new for Mai, but she might indulge him anyhow.

"Hn." A strange look came over Kaiba's face. "I already got an hors d'oeuvre from one of the waiters anyhow," he placated. "See." He lifted up his own plate to show Joey.

Joey brightened. "What is it?" he said, leaning in to study it raptly. "It must be pretty special if it passes the almighty Kaiba Seto's standards." He leaned in to sniff at the salty scent.

Kaiba's face reddened. He stepped away from Joey, and pulled the dish up closer to his chest. He lifted up the appetizer on its toothpick and looked at it a half a second.

Then he shoved it violently at Joey's mouth.

Joey gagged. He punched lightly at Kaiba's arm in retaliation, before trying to cough the food back up.

Kaiba was glaring at the hand clutching the empty toothpick – almost like he wanted to set it on fire.

But Joey was only angry for so long as he wasn't eating so, when the food dislodged itself from the back of his throat, he chewed it quickly, and immediately perked back up.

"Hey~ This is pretty good," he said. "What is it? Bacon and melon?"

"Prosciutto and cantaloupe," Kaiba said, frowning. "It's one of the only dishes I can stand to eat at these things. It's unfortunate my dog got to it before me."

Joey flipped Kaiba off as discretely as he could manage.

Kaiba took this as gracefully as he could be expected. Which meant he ignored it.

Joey smiled to himself as he finished eating the bacon melon. He rocked back and forth on his heels, as he devoured the final sausage roll himself.

"European food is really rich though, isn't it?" he asked, spinning the empty appetiser plate in his hand.

"Hn," Kaiba agreed. "If you're looking for Japanese food, I believe they have some sashimi bowls, with fatty tuna."

Joey tisked. "That's really rich too." A thought occurred to him. "Oh-!" he cheered.

Kaiba turned to him curiously.

"Have you ever-?! Nyotaimori?!" Joey asked. "You know- eaten sushi off a naked lady?"

Kaiba's eyes glazed over.

"No?" Joey waved him off, sighing disappointed. "Figures it's the kind of thing that only really happens in the movies~ Not to mention you're too much of a puss-"

"I have actually," Kaiba interrupted. "I just worry about what's going on in your head that would prompt such a question."

"You have?!" Joey brightened. "What was it like?"

"Unhygienic." Kaiba frowned. "It wasn't my idea."

Joey huffed.

"Oh, c'mon!" he protested. "You gotta give me more to work with than that."

"It was unhygienic, and also the sushi was mediocre," Kaiba added.

There Kaiba was again. Acting inscrutable and cold in the face of the world's great wonders.

Joey laughed to himself. He stepped forward, and leaned his elbow casually up against Kaiba's shoulder.

"Y'know, Kaiba… I think the whole point is that it's a little dirty." Joey waggled his eyebrows.

Kaiba snorted. He pushed Joey off and turned away. But Joey caught the edge of a smile, or something like it.

Smiles were contagious. Joey waved for more appetisers, and continued talking.

"Anzu was telling me about a movie she went and saw recently. Something about a fat people wedding… I don't really get American flicks, but- I dunno, I don't really get out to see much anymore. Yuugi and I used to go to adventure type stuff together – Tomb Raider's a classic – but that's while he was still bumming around after high school. Now I just get dragged to artsy foreign stuff sometimes. I don't get much outta the movies themselves to be honest but it's nice just to get out, yanno what I mean?"

Kaiba didn't respond, but he appeared to be listening from the way his shoulders relaxed into stillness. He turned his head slightly, his ears piqued, and Joey waved for more appetisers and smiled and kept talking.

And, for a while, it seemed like it'd just be the two of them, standing and munching on snacks and getting lost in the mindless hum of film talk.

"Kaiba-sama," someone said, and Kaiba waved for Joey to stop talking. There was a hush, as Kaiba spoke in an undertone with the intruder.

"They want me on," Kaiba explained. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

He walked off without further explanation.

The room had filled in the meantime, and Joey was suddenly aware of how alone he was in the crowd. He waved for another plate of appetisers. He almost didn't care what it was, so long as it kept him busy.

After a moment filled with tiny bites of crab salad and sliced egg. The lights in the room dimmed, and the sound of the piano softened and came to a halt, and then Joey saw, as Kaiba walked up onto the stage at the announcement of a man in a maroon suit.

Kaiba's presence filled the whole room. He was handed a microphone, which he tapped loudly with his finger.

And then he raised it to his mouth and spoke to the entirety of the banquet hall.

"Seven years ago, Kaiba Corporation made its first steps in the transformation from arms provider to entertainment empire." Kaiba's head tilted slightly, and he gave a light and humorous smile Joey hadn't thought him capable of. "A corporate strategy, I might add, that was met with resistance every step of the way."

There seemed to be a pointed silence from the peanut gallery. And Joey wondered how many people in the room had been part of that resistance, and how many were blinking confused at the thinly veiled accusations flying over their heads.

"My critics might consider this a move of weakness, one that has undermined the power Kaiba Corporation had in dominating the market, and the flow of world resources at large. But I know, now more than ever, that Kaiba Corporation's influence has only grown – that it is in a position to carry out the greatest effect on the world around it.

"Kaiba Corporation always intends to be a radicalisation of how we think and consume, how we live and fight and die."

Kaiba spat this last word, as if it had personally offended him. The room shivered uncomfortably in its morbidity, Joey included. But there was something about it that left his ears open to the rest of what Kaiba had to say.

"And more than the ravages of war, torture, and death – Kaiba Corporation's technology will be what creates the reality of this world, and what exists beyond it. And more than war and torture and death, Kaiba Corporation will give everyone something to stand up and live for and fight for! It will give everyone the ability to put their skills to the test and prove the importance of their place in this world!"

Kaiba had to take a breath to calm back down, but he did it seamlessly. And it launched right into his next statement.

"Kaiba Corporation's virtual reality and gaming properties are already at the centre of the changes in how our world understands conflict, and how it transcends the boundaries of our backgrounds and experiences and individualism.

"And Kaiba Corporation's theme parks and movie productions aim to do something entirely different. Kaiba Land Theme Parks have already opened their doors to over five hundred orphanages and one hundred fifty high risk schools."

Kaiba smiled – wry and angry and intense. And Joey believed it utterly.

"I want there to be a place that every child can go," Kaiba said. "I want there to be a sliver of happiness for every child that visits Kaiba Land parks, or watches Kaiba Corp films. No matter where they come from, and what they must endure. And, through them, Kaiba Corporation will decide the future! Kaiba Corporation is going to create a world where everyone who is skilled can succeed, and where everyone who isn't can be at peace!"

There was utter silence. Joey felt like everyone in the room must be holding their breath.

"But I digress," Kaiba continued. "We're here to celebrate Banja – a dragon whose story, through the talented hands of our actors and directors, will hopefully inspire a generation."

Kaiba went on to talk about the movie's production process. But that was all a little beyond Joey.

Joey remembered what he had purposefully left out earlier, babbling about movies with Kaiba. He remembered hiding in the theatre and watching those Chambara summer movie marathons. He remembered how important it had been – just to sit somewhere safe and quiet, where he could look up at the screen and behold the visions and aspirations of people much greater than a lonely, hungry ten year old.

And Kaiba, who spoke to that place, that was too personal and raw for Joey to express in anything other than lightness and mockery- To hear Kaiba defend that in a flurry of passion he felt too strongly to be properly embarrassed by- That he would defend the right for a bunch of stupid Rintama kids to visit a theme park, like that was something precious instead of the meaningless drivel that would occupy their time before their inevitable deaths-

Kaiba was such a loser, Joey had to remember. He couldn't feed himself. He couldn't make a friend. He spent his days trapped alone in an office. And he had once vomited on Joey's jeans.

But Kaiba could confidently go up on stage and lay his dreams out on the table, like they were worth listening to.

And it was really cool. Kaiba could be really cool. And Joey had to work hard to blink the stars out of his eyes.

.

.

"What did you write?"

Kaiba snatched the notepad out of his hands, as soon as he'd returned from the limelight of the stage. He examined the open page for only a second, before tossing the notepad back for Joey to catch.

"Typical," Kaiba grunted, in a way that seemed almost offended.

Joey looked down at the object in his hands.

Kaiba gave a speech, was all he had managed to write.

Joey huffed, annoyed. It wasn't as if he owed Kaiba a friggin pat on the back for managing to string together a worthwhile group of sentences. But he somehow felt embarrassed by the lacking nature of his comment anyhow. He wanted to say something – something encouraging even. It was just he couldn't find the words.

The caterers were opening the buffet, and a distressing number of people were lining up to get in on the deal.

"Why don't ya sit down?" Joey said. "I'll go get plates for the both of us. How about that?"

Kaiba nodded absently. He seemed to entirely miss the part where Joey was magnanimously allowing him get out of the responsibility of waiting in line himself. And he summoned none of the appreciation a reasonable person should at such an offer.

Kaiba was…

Joey was keenly aware that there was only one word for what Kaiba was doing. He was sulking. And this instilled in Joey a renewed appreciation that he had offered to spend a good twenty minutes away from Kaiba waiting in line.

Joey watched as Kaiba redirected himself towards the assigned seats carved out for them in the most distant end of the banquet hall. And Joey hesitated before giving Kaiba an encouraging slap on the back. He lingered only long enough to watch Kaiba startle, before jogging away to take his place in the line for the buffet.

Joey was already feeling hungry again, since the disappearance of the appetisers. The distance to the edge of the buffet table seemed unreasonably far, and there didn't seem to be much to occupy him on the way there. Most people had walked up to wait in line in groups of two and three, and Joey felt less inclined to talk to the other party goers after his first attempts at being friendly had only produced a stiff awkwardness. He stood with his hands in his pockets, and rocked back and forth on the heels of Kaiba's fancy shoes.

He resolved to himself that he would eat enough food to last all of tomorrow, to make up for it.

There was a marvellous selection of food at the front of the line. Cuts of meat and strange looking mixed salads and cheeses. It seemed more than Joey was really capable of taking in. He grabbed one gold-trimmed white porcelain plate from the top of the stack on the edge of the table, balanced it on his elbow, and then set another one in his hand. Most of the dishes were strange and foreign to him, and he zoned in on the first familiar dish.

He grabbed the tongs that were set out to serve with, and clicked them in his hand.

Pasta was probably a good bet. Mai liked pasta a lot. There wasn't one with red sauce here, but-

Joey piled two plates high with the spaghetti. It had pieces of squid and shrimp in a light white sauce. A little further along the table was a basket with rolls of bread, and he danced down, juggling the plates on his arm, and used a second pair of tongs to add several rolls to his own plate, and one to Kaiba's

Bringing the help along as his plus one. Think about that. He had to hire someone to come with him.

Joey thought he heard someone say-

Could it really be that blatant? he wondered.

He turned, intending to find the suspicious party. Everyone looked suspicious, though, in their dress suits and gowns and demure smiles.

Kaiba was engaged in discussion when Joey got back to their table. He was talking with someone to his right, although the seat to his left was conspicuously absent. Joey slid into it, and slid the plate of pasta down in front of Kaiba, who didn't respond, not even when Joey tried to meet his eyes for a meaningful, eat-your-food glare.

The person who was talking with Kaiba, some old suit, looked curiously over to Joey. But Kaiba took no note of this, preferring to soldier on with the conversation.

Joey arranged a fork in his left hand, with which to shovel the pasta into his mouth, and took the notepad out of his pocket with his right hand and set it on the table, so he could scribble in it while he was eating.

Everyone here might be just as much of a jerk as Kaiba. Ain't that a nice thought? he wrote.

It occurred to him that Kaiba might actually be less of a jerk than a number of them. But that seemed to be too large an idea to commit to words. He quickly flipped to the next page of the notepad, and began sketching a Scapegoat over the lined paper.

People kept approaching the table. The seat to Kaiba's right turned over and exchanged hands like the seat on a merry-go-round. And Kaiba continued to not-introduce Joey to people, unless they made a specific point of asking.

"And who is accompanying you this evening?"

Joey turned to look up at them, his mouth puffed out around an overly large bite of pasta, and his hand poised over the notepad. He had descended to the level of graffitiing the paper with nothing more than pattered scribbles. Kaiba turned to look at Joey, with a look that seemed resigned to being caught out.

"He works for me. My personal assistant, Joey Wheeler," Kaiba said neutrally.

"Charmed," Joey said, around a mouthful of pasta.

When this latest person was gone, there was a small break in the line of executives and movie stars and investors eager to greet Kaiba.

"Seafood carbonara?" Kaiba asked, with a small hint of distaste.

Joey shrugged, as he jammed a piece of bread in his mouth.

Kaiba looked over his shoulder at the notepad. He shook his head in disapproval of the cartoon tiger doodled over it, but his expression softened slightly. He grabbed the sides of his chair and shifted it slightly. He leaned against the left arm rest, before greeting the next person come to talk to Kaiba Corp's CEO.

When the pasta and bread were gone, Joey got up to revisit the buffet line. The crowd had cleared out, so he didn't have to wait this time, and there was still more than enough food for everyone to have several more servings.

Joey grabbed a plate, and looked back and forth eagerly. He eyed the wait staff, and wondered if he could arrange to take a tray home with him.

Nah, you can't be that person. They'll make fun of you for being Chinese.

Joey piled his plate with short ribs and fried potatoes, and headed back to his seat, where Kaiba was still talking to the other guests. He was leaned moodily back in his chair, and twirled his fork in his hand absently.

Joey resumed eating and scribbling in the notepad. The potatoes were filling, and the meat was sweet and flavourful.

Do y'think Yuugi likes potatoes? Joey asked the notepad. He likes fries. And burgers. Mutou-chan says that's why he's so short. Too many burgers. Malnutrition. But she and Gramps are really short too, so-

"Would you put that thing away?!"

Joey pulled his hand out of the way, as a hand slammed down on the notepad and ruffled its pages. Kaiba spun his fingers around the spiral coil, and slammed it resolutely shut.

"That's enough of this farce for one evening," Kaiba hissed.

"God, who pissed in your cereal?" Joey asked, knocking his heel against Kaiba's under the table.

Kaiba didn't respond, except for a low grunt.

Joey didn't deign Kaiba with his attention. Let Kaiba be a grouch to himself. Joey had food.

It was a good five minutes of Joey picking his way through the short ribs. During which he had all but forgotten about Kaiba. Until-

"I hate them."

"Hmm?" Joey hummed around a bite of rib. He turned.

A glop of spaghetti was swirled around Kaiba's fork, abandoned on the edge of his plate. It looked like he'd taken a couple bites of the pasta, and prepared a third before abandoning it uneaten.

Kaiba himself was slouched back in his chair. His arms huddled protectively over his chest. In one of them dangled a glass of liquor – whiskey on the rocks, filled almost to the top.

"I hate these people. I hate all these people," Kaiba snarled, before taking a gulp of his drink.

"When did you even get that?" Joey nodded at the glass.

Kaiba ignored him. "I've known some of them since I was ten."

"How much have you had?" Joey quirked an eyebrow.

"Don't act stupid, Wheeler," Kaiba admonished. "You already know this. You were there."

Joey wasn't sure where. But Kaiba scowled, and continued.

"I stood over there, with the other children," Kaiba waved an arm off towards the corner of the banquet hall where everyone of a certain age had been deposited and left. "Or, worse, I'd stand next to my foster father. And I watched them having fun, even though I had to go home to Daimon… textbooks, studies, Noa's empty room… discussions of nuclear warfare…"

Kaiba took a long draught of his whiskey before continuing.

"And I hated them."

Joey considered this.

"Nobody did anything? Noticed how you were being treated?" he asked blankly.

Kaiba laughed shortly. "Oh, the ones that did I hated the most," Kaiba sneered. "What could they hope to accomplish, against the CEO of the most prominent Kaiba Corporation? The ones who vocally protested, the ones who slid in prodding questions and sly comments, the ones that tried to befriend me… one couple even tried involving the government…" Kaiba barked out another laugh, this time long and manic. "Like Gouzaburou didn't have a world of public officials eating from the crumbs in his pocket."

Kaiba glared viciously across the hall.

"Cows is what they were. Cows offering themselves to the slaughtering block. They didn't do it out of any hope of helping me. They only did it to feed their own egos."

"Yea-" Joey agreed, munching despondently on a piece of short rib.

Joey got that. He had hated them too. He hated how they teased. He hated how they scorned. He hated how they had all looked away from the bruises on his forearm, and the sharp scratches on Serenity's shoulder. He hated that they had the gall to believe when Serenity lied, and said it wasn't because their mother threw a dish at their father. Said it wasn't sharp shards of shattered porcelain finding their way to a much softer target. He hated how they never stopped bothering them about the shape of their eyes, or the sharp structure of her forehead, or the coarse make of his hair, or the bumpkin accent, which didn't sound the least bit foreign. And he hated that the teachers told him off when he showed up to school with blond hair and bloody knuckles – told him off, not because he was using these things to hide who he really was, but because it wasn't presentable. It went too far against school rules.

And he hated that teacher who tried to help – tried to report his father – most. Because it had turned something that was simply a fact of Joey's life into some kind of big deal. And his mother had come up from out of town to yell at the school officials. And his father had cried. And when the school board got involved, Joey had lived three days in complete fear that he'd be sent away to some kind of facility, before the school board had come down with a fury on the opposite side, and fired the teacher for causing trouble. And she'd just been doing the right thing but, in the end, he couldn't even remember her name, for all it had been worth to him.

"It makes you think, though," Joey said, pushing a last slice of potato against the plate with his fork. "I wonder how many of them hate us?"

Kaiba blinked harshly.

"Excuse me." The grip on his whiskey seemed to magnify. The ice clinked in the glass.

"Yea-" Joey went on to explain. "We've been standing around, having dumb conversations about appetizers and movies and shit. I think we've been having fun. How many of those kids over there do you think'll resent us, just for being here – for looking away because we have nothing to say to 'em?"

He paused to chew at the potato. It was buttery and fluffy.

"It didn't take much for me to hate people, back in those days," Joey said.

This was met with static silence for a good ten seconds, during which Joey mauled the rest of the food on his plate, before he realised something had gone wrong.

He turned to Kaiba, and was surprised to find him actually shaking with suppressed rage. It was a good thing he'd already drunk most of the whiskey, because what was there sloshed across the sides of the glass in jittery spasms.

"Uh, Kaiba?" Joey asked worriedly.

Kaiba turned to him. He looked absolutely livid.

"Don't talk to me," he hissed.

"Kaiba-"

"Don't!" Kaiba hissed. "I mean it, Wheeler. I don't want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the night. You will shut your mouth, sit quietly, and say nothing!"

"Oh, c'mon, Kaiba~" Joey's face fell in disappointment.

Kaiba turned in his seat so his back was to Joey.

"Kaiba~" Joey pleaded.

Kaiba remained facing away, as silent and immovable as a wall.

Joey sat there for a minute, staring at the pinstripes on Kaiba's back, before he realised that Kaiba was likely serious, and would spend the rest of the night refusing to look at him.

Joey sighed. He left his notepad at his seat. He stood up, and made his way over to the buffet table. There were desserts piled at the end, and Joey took a plate of chocolate hazelnut cake, and ate it standing. When he'd finished that, he moved on to a mango mousse cup.

He felt like he should be annoyed with Kaiba's sudden mood swings but, really, he kind of got it. Kaiba might be a bit of an uptight, moody bitch about it, but nobody wanted to be hated. Everyone wanted to be well-liked, well-loved. And Kaiba was trying his best to make the world better for all the kids like him. Of course he didn't want to hear about the ways he would fail some of them, just by being himself.

But the thing was that Kaiba was well-liked, well-loved – Mokuba had said so himself. It was just that Kaiba couldn't see it.

It was either spend the whole night sitting next to Kaiba moping, or do something to fix it, and Joey knew which would be more fun.

Joey discarded the empty mango mousse cup on the table, and walked back over to the backroom. He caught one of the servers on the way there.

"Hey, yanno what I need? Some big- like-" Joey waved his arms expressively. "Construction poster paper things. And some big black markers. And crayons and coloured pencils and stuff."

"Poster paper? Coloured pencils?" the server asked unsurely.

"Yea-" Joey nodded seriously.

"For… what? Exactly?"

"Hey, hey~ No asking questions!" Joey tisked. "You know I work directly under Kaiba and all, right? If you can't get me some markers and posters, you at least need to direct me to where I can find some ASAP."

"N-No, it's no problem, sir," the server bowed.

The catering service did apparently have some poster paper and markers on hand, and Joey was quickly delivered some crayons and coloured markers as well.

That settled, all Joey had to do was make the magic happen. Carrying the supplies in his arms, he waltzed right over to the corner, where the children and grandchildren of all the bigwigs were gathered. They eyed him warily, but Joey didn't pay that any mind.

"Hey, guys~" he grinned widely. "It's been pretty boring here since the movie ended, huh?"

Fifteen minutes later, the kids were practically crawling over the top of him. Pulling at his arm and leaning over his shoulder, as he tried his best to write the kanji for horse as neatly as possible on the poster.

"Joey-san, you're not very good at calligraphy are you?" Akemi-chan chastised.

"And not good at drawing either," Chika-chan said solemnly.

"Nope~" Joey agreed. He finished the character with a flourish, and went back over with the black marker, to make it more bold, before handing the poster to Akemi. "You guys are really talented compared to me. I'm sure you'll do a great job~"

Akemi nodded happily, and went to colour the backside of the poster.

Joey continued marking up the rest of the posters. There were nineteen kids, so between the message in hiragana, Kaiba's name in kanji, and the honorific, he'd be at sixteen posters. He graffitied up three with exclamation points to have enough to go around.

Chika looked worried at the blank side of her poster, when Joey handed it to her. She leaned in and whispered to him seriously.

"I know he's your friend, but my parents said that Kaiba-sama is a bad person, who killed the nice man that took him in and raised him." Chika looked sadly down at her shoes. "They say he's… bad… and not good at business. So… I don't know what to put on my poster."

Joey did his best not to sigh.

"Well," he confided, "I don't want to disrespect your parents and all, but I can say that they're wrong, and Kaiba's not like that."

Chika pursed her lips and looked guilty.

"But, well," Joey continued. "Ya don't need to say anything good about Kaiba directly if you don't want to… You liked the movie, right? Banja was super cool! And you like Duel Monsters?"

Chika's lips pulled into a smile. She nodded.

"Well, Kaiba's kind of a shy and moody guy," Joey confided, as if divulging some big secret. "He's not really great with people, so he tries his best to talk with people through his dragons and games and movies and stuff. He puts a lot of himself into his work and his projects, so if you liked the movie, it's kind of like you like him a little tiny bit… So if you can't compliment him, I'm sure if you say the movie made you happy, he'll be happy."

Chika brightened. She seemed to think this was a good compromise.

"I think I'll try and draw a picture of Banja-kun for him," she decided.

"Yeah, you will," Joey ruffled her hair and smiled happily.

Once she was gone, Joey turned to look across the banquet hall at Kaiba.

Kaiba was waving for a server to refill his whiskey, and wouldn't look at Joey. Just as he hadn't the last four times Joey had tried to catch his eye.

Stubborn asshole, Joey thought. Everyone else in the hall seemed barely capable of keeping their eyes off what he had the kids doing. Several of the parents had come up to ask, and Joey had chased them off with the assurance that they were just doing a harmless arts and crafts project.

Whatever, Kaiba could be a stubborn asshole for now. Joey didn't have time to worry about it. Takeshi-kun and Jun-san were crowding around him, to show him their drawings. And Joey poured out excessive compliments for their handiwork.

"Hey, where are you going?" the announcer asked, when Joey led everyone up to the side of the stage, ordered and filed in line.

Joey smiled. He stepped up to the announcer, and leaned in close.

"Relax~" he said. He waved to the stage, where the musician had finished her last song, and was packing up their koto to drag off into the wings. "You guys are all done for now, and this'll only take a minute."

"But-"

Joey reached forward. He grasped the announcer's stomach, and lifted him up into the air, placed him to the side.

The announcer seemed so stunned at the sudden application of bodily contact, that he only sputtered when Joey reached and grabbed the microphone.

"Relax~" Joey repeated. "The Vice President's backing me up on this anyhow so-" He turned to the kids. "Alright, guys, positions everyone."

Everyone lined up on stage.

"Hi, everyone. Attention please for a minute." Joey spoke into the microphone. "Yeah, that's the stuff," he chuckled when the hall fell silent and everyone turned to him.

Now it was him that refused to meet Kaiba's eyes. Let him suffer inattention for a minute.

"Well, we all really enjoyed the movie tonight. So I thought it'd be nice to get together and show our appreciation for the man that made it all happen… If it's Kaiba Corp's mission to lead us into the future, well, it's gonna be through these kids. So we wanted to band together and say how happy being able to get together to watch Kaiba Corp movies, and play Kaiba Corp games, and visit Kaiba Corp parks, has made us all."

Even if only for a little while.

Joey waved his arm, and all the children lifted up their signs.

"Thank you very much, Kaiba Seto-sama!" They read all together. Somebody was holding one of the signs upside down, but it didn't matter. Joey recited the message along with the children, until the beginning of the honorific, where he let them finish things off themselves.

The hall was completely silent for a moment, but then Joey clapped. And then everyone else clapped too. You couldn't not clap for a bunch of kids, now proudly flipping the signs over to display the handwritten messages and pictures of Banja and Blue Eyes that they'd drawn for Kaiba. The whole hall was filled to the brim with applause.

And then Joey finally let himself look at Kaiba. Who had put down his whiskey, and had covered his eyes with his hands. His lip was wobbling.

He looked so embarrassed. Ashamed. So ashamed he might die.

But Joey wasn't fooled. Shame couldn't kill you. And, more importantly, Kaiba wouldn't be able to help himself.

Kaiba's cheeks and angular chin quivered below where his hand had covered his eyes. His lip was wobbling. Every bit of his face, all the way up to the tippy tops of his ears, were flushed a bright, happy red.

You just couldn't stop yourself from feeling touched.

.

.

"I can't believe you did that." Kaiba said, for the fourteenth time.

Joey giggled. The backseat of the car jostled as it hit against the road. He had his left arm over the top of the backrest. The other was pinned to his side by Kaiba, who was leaning heavily into his shoulder. They had moved together somehow from the opposite ends of the backseat row. Kaiba must've had one too many drinks.

And Joey was feeling high too. Although he wasn't sure on what.

"I can't believe you did that." Kaiba said. Now the fifteenth time. "What if one of the parents had complained?"

Joey was still snickering. His eyes darted over to where the children's signs had been gathered in a giant plastic freezer baggie. Kaiba had tucked them into the car fondly.

"Aww, nobody complained," Joey said. "Nobody would complain"

"Yes, they would," Kaiba insisted. "Some suspicious blond leading a bunch of kids around… Security could have kicked you out. Causing trouble… They should have. You could've thrown the whole event into disarray. You almost did."

"But I didn't~" Joey taunted, in a sing-song voice. He pressed back into where Kaiba was slumped against his side. He felt the warmth spread away from him.

"You could have gotten into a lot of trouble," Kaiba insisted. "It was stupid of you."

"Well, I got no regrets." Joey closed his eyes and smiled to himself.

Kaiba grumbled. But Joey imagined Kaiba was smiling into his shoulder.

"You only did it so I would talk to you again." The sharp ridge of Kaiba's nose rubbed against the sleeve of Joey's borrowed Italian suit.

Maybe he really was smiling. When Joey turned, he couldn't see, but he smiled down at the mop of brown hair.

"Hey. It worked, didn't it?" Joey crowed triumphantly.

This got Kaiba to shut up for a bit. Joey refocused on the rumble of the car, the gleaming darkness outside the window.

And then, a minute later, Kaiba sighed. "I can't believe you did that." Sixteen times.

After a while, the lights of the city streets abruptly stopped.

The Kaiba mansion was not a beacon in the darkness. It was a glowing patch of silence right in the middle of Domino's metropolis.

The road that ran through the estate and up to the entrance of the manor proper was lone among the expanse of lawn and blockish topiaries, and the only light that was provided was that of the headlights of the car, and the glow of the city's light pollution – inescapable even here. It took a good five minutes to drive the length of it, a kind of desperate barrier that tried in vain to push away the encircling city that trapped it on all sides.

The manor itself was dimly lit, like a dying fire that had burned the whole field around it, sealing its own escape in a bid of mutually assured destruction.

The car slowly rolled to a stop at the entrance.

Kaiba had fallen away from Joey's arm. He was lying on his back across the seat, with one leg splayed down to the side into the footspace, and the other bent up at the knee with his foot resting on the seat. His hands were laced across his stomach, and he was staring at the roof of the car like it had disappointed him.

The driver opened the door for Joey first, and Joey scooted across the back seat and shuffled out of the car.

He muttered an embarrassed thanks to the driver, but was forlorn to discover the man had already left. He'd fled around the rear of the vehicle to open the opposite door for Kaiba.

Kaiba was out of the car and walking towards the entrance of the manor by the time Joey caught up. The driver was already back in the car, and pulling away. Kaiba seemed a bit unsteady on his feet, although he stopped himself from stumbling. And Joey clamoured to his side, ducking under Kaiba's shoulder before leaning into him and lifting him up.

"This okay?" Joey asked. He wrapped his arm around Kaiba's back and grabbed a hold of his bicep, holding him steady.

Kaiba didn't respond, not even with a grunt.

Instead they feel into step, walking up the steps onto the manor's front deck. Kaiba pulled them off to the side, where there was a security panel against the door. He fiddled with the thing, pressing his left thumbprint against the panel, keyed in some numbers.

Maybe peeled open an eye for retina scanning? Sliced off a finger? Offered up his extra kidney? Recited the entirety of Kobayashi Issa's literary work?

Joey wasn't paying attention. There was a decorative chandelier on the underside of the balcony hanging above them. He squinted at it in the limited light – trying to figure out why something like that was necessary outdoors where it would get damaged by the elements.

The door clicked open, and Joey startled. He was closer to it than Kaiba, and reached for the handle. Before dragging them both inside.

Six years was a long time. Especially to pull up memories tainted with the threats of death and insanity. But, so far as Joey could remember, the interior of the Kaiba mansion didn't seem to have changed in any physical way. The white and red plush patterned rugs that ran along the floors, the marble and wood craftsmanship and gold trim on the stairs, and the massive walls of display cases to either side, presenting all manner of trophies and awards and artefacts. They were kept clean and free of dust. But they seemed untouched and neglected. Joey suspected not a single new piece had been added to the collection, since Atem's departure. Maybe since Atem's first appearance.

Kaiba pulled them off along a corridor to the side, and Joey recognised the other big change since his first visit.

When he had first made his way to Kaiba's place, with Yuugi cowering next to him in the back of the Bentley, and was invited into its sinister opulence – the place had been full of worker bees. There was a doorman at the entrance and, inside, a bright line of maids had bowed to them – their hands folded neatly across the front of their aprons. The place had gleamed with a gaudy veneer that had tried to hide all its darkness.

Now it was just him and Kaiba, leaning into each other as they walked together through the dark hallways. It was, Joey thought, a little like a haunted house. Kaiba's adoptive father might not have died here but, when he thought about it, it seemed unlikely that somebody hadn't. A place like this – owned, as it was, by the Kaibas. A place like this – that had probably been built way back in the Edo Period, after the first Black Ships had arrived to end Japan's isolation. And had stood, through fire and fight and blood.

Joey shivered at the thought of the ghosts. He pressed further into Kaiba's side, and gripped Kaiba's bicep tighter.

Kaiba said nothing as he directed them through the manor, turning this way and that through the halls. It seemed a walk that took forever, and Joey spent it staring at the passing figures – sharp lines in the dimly lit halls. A collection of ocean artwork, in the style of Hokusai and his contemporaries, swooped past on the walls. Joey didn't recognise most of them, but there was a print of The Wave off Kanagawa – as tall as Joey was and at least four times as wide. There was a small woodblock of the same framed off to the side, and Joey wondered how early it dated, and how close it was to the original.

Like a straggler wandering a museum too close to closing time, Joey was urged gently along, before he could get too good a look at any one thing, or ponder it for too long.

There was so much more to see, though, and their stumbling pace couldn't stop Joey from taking some of it in.

A collection of black and white photography. Fishing boats on the Pacific. Nets of herring. Halibut as large as people with harpoons struck through their head. Boated dolphins bleeding from their backs. A group photo of workers in front of a cannery. A single tin with SARDINES read across the label. A fishing boat being fitted with a canon. An industrial production line. A man smiling over a pile of scrap metal. A flying balloon. The Siege at Port Arthur. A naval fleet on course for Tsushima.

Kaiba turned down another corridor, and Joey turned with him.

Now it was European art. They whizzed past increasingly fast. Joey heard his own breathing pick up, and Kaiba's had picked up with it. The hall widened. There were a bunch of Greco-Roman inspired statues. The one most prominently displayed featured a woman being carried by a bearded god. Her breasts were bared, and the flesh on her ass gave way under the man's hands. And she turned away and pushed against his face with fearful hands. The man's eyes were smiling, and Joey's eyes dripped down where the man's love handle disappeared into a small tuft of pubic hair.

And then oil paintings. In a ruined room with a red carpet – not unlike the one that covered the Kaiba mansion floors, a balding man in black was clutching another man in a white gown. There was blood leaking through the forehead that belonged to the man in white – his eyes were vacant and empty. The man in black clutched him, in his death, with haunted eyes.

Joey let himself be dragged around two more turns in the hall, and his vision whirled in front of a new painting – a vividly coloured cubist piece, the interior of a building blossomed in bright flowers and shining glass and the sharp edges of a woman in blue. There was a picture of a winged horse, rendered in a rather different art style, scribbled in the bottom of the painting next to the letter C.

Joey came to a halt just to the side of this picture. As Kaiba had halted in front of a set of double doors.

The serenity of this new painting seemed as if it should calm Joey, and there were lights in this part of the hall – a couple of softly glowing orbs, rather than what was dark but for the persistent assault of moonlight.

But the world still seemed like a whirl of shadow and choking breaths and fear. And it took Joey a moment to realise that what he was feeling might not have been his, but rather what he felt radiating off of Kaiba, where they were leaned against one another.

There was a security panel on this set of doors, as there had been at the front entrance to the manor. And Kaiba had finished a deft input of figures into it.

The lock on the door beeped and, just as before, Joey was closer to it than Kaiba was, and so he reached for the handle and pulled it open.

Kaiba stiffened, as the sound of the lock's clasp clicked. He turned slowly to the sound of it, and his eyes widened as they met Joey.

Behind him, on the wall to the other side of the double doors, there was an ukiyo-e print. A soft and beautiful woman in a light blue kimono ran a comb through a long tangle of her hair.

Joey huffed a laugh under his breath. He swung the open door back and forth by the handle, joggling it tauntingly.

Slowly, Kaiba pulled himself away from where he was leaning against Joey's shoulder. Let himself fall away from where Joey clutched his side. He took two steps back, and then pivoted around Joey, to barricade himself in the door frame.

Kaiba let out an uneven cough. A single syllable dropped from his lips. Half-eaten, like he wasn't sure of how to even articulate the word, much less whether or not it was what he wanted to say.

"Go," Kaiba coughed.

Joey let his lips break out into a smile.

"What was that, Kaiba?" he prodded.

"Hn." Kaiba blinked rapidly. He inhaled and hardened his shell, to imitate a recapture of his lost composure. He seemed to give Joey the benefit of the doubt, and rephrased his request in the pattern of something more formal.

"This area of the manor is private, Wheeler. We don't allow anyone inside who hasn't been checked by security."

Joey leaned back on the heels of his feet. He snorted. "Oh, what? Want me to walk through a metal detector for ya? You telling me you're afraid of one Joey Wheeler?"

Kaiba was ready to shoot back a response, when his mouth went slack and his eyebrows furrowed. He pressed a hand to his temples.

Joey didn't wait for an answer. He took the opportunity to dodge under Kaiba's arm and slip into the room.

Walking into the inner chambers of the Kaiba manor was like entering a whole new house – complete with a whole new entry hall. It was large and white and sparsely decorated, and did not seem to be characterised by the confusing labyrinth of doors and corridors the rest of the manor did. There was no chandelier hanging from the ceiling, but an art deco dome, currently unlit. A gently spiralling staircase led up to the second floor, and intersected with an indoor balcony that split in two directions – to a pale grey door on the left, and to another door, striped messily with red and green, on the right. There was only one door on the first level, save for the entrance from the rest of the manor. Joey's nose caught the wafting scent of sweet bread and meat and burnt soy sauce from the left, but it was overpowered by the contrastive smell of incense. To the right, was an empty hearth, scrubbed completely clean of ash and, above it, a mantle that stretched the entire length of the wall.

"Is that Noa?" Joey asked.

He walked towards the mantle, where a portrait was set. It was the only thing that could remotely be called decoration in the room, and it was Noa. He looked out sternly from the portrait, with just a tinge of the trademark smug Kaiba grin. Next to him, propped on the mantle was some sentai show action figure. It was missing a leg and an arm, but polished to a clean red sheen. In front of the portrait were lit candles and persimmons, a bag of tomato-flavoured chips, and smoking bowls of sand holding burning sticks of incense.

Joey grabbed one of the persimmons. He tossed it between his hands.

"Not exactly the season for them, is it?"

Joey could hear Kaiba sigh behind him.

"Mokuba must have purchased some specially from a greenhouse. Or else had them imported."

"Ah, so it was Mokuba," Joey said triumphantly. He placed the persimmon back on the mantle, where it rattled against the bowl and settled unevenly on its side.

He turned to Kaiba and grinned. "I figured you weren't the type for this shit."

Kaiba grumbled, and Joey wondered for a second if he had offended. He turned back to examine the sharp cut of Noa's hairline.

"Mokuba purchased a butsudan to house it, originally," Kaiba admitted. "But I wouldn't let him set it up here."

"Well, he seems to have done a pretty good job setting things up in spite of you," Joey laughed. He squinted at the bright light of the candles. "Although all bets are off why he bothered with this broken toy. Was it Noa's or somethin'?"

He lifted a finger and flicked the action figure's only leg.

"No."

Joey could hear Kaiba's frown.

"Whose was it then?" Joey persisted.

"What makes you think I know, or care?" Kaiba snapped.

"It's your mantle, Kaiba," Joey said lazily. He scuffed the dress shoes Kaiba had loaned him against the dark marble that surrounded the hearth.

For a minute, they only stood there, before the sacred macabre of the alter became too much to bear in silence.

"Hey, do you ever visit your parents' graves?" Joey asked.

He turned to Kaiba temporarily.

Kaiba shuffled uncomfortably.

"You knew my father," Kaiba said carefully. "Or you knew a version of him anyway… What about him would give you the impression I have even the slightest inclination to visit his grave?"

"Not the Kaiba family grave, you- silly." Joey laughed. "I'm talking about the graves of your real father and mother."

Kaiba didn't react to this at first.

"And why would I visit them?" He sounded almost confused. "What did they ever do for me?"

"Oh c'mon, moneybags, don't be so heartless. They gave birth to you. They loved you, right? It'd be a good experience to pay respects to 'em-" Joey decided.

"They died." Kaiba cut him off.

The candles flickered.

"They died. And what did they leave behind?" Kaiba asked. "A jar of ashes in some grave. A pile of bickering relatives. A pair of children, to be shipped off to an orphanage. A couple of memories that only I remember – none of them good.

"Kaiba Gouzaburou left me with a company, and all the skills I needed to run it. He left me with a way to look after Mokuba. A way to keep living." Kaiba huffed angrily to himself. "He taught me everything he knew. I don't have any other parents. You'll do well to remember that."

Joey wasn't listening.

"Taught you everything he knew, huh?" Joey snickered. "He sure didn't know that much, did he? Must be why you're such a moron~"

Joey flicked pressed his finger against the sand in the incense bowl

"C'mon. You should listen to my advice," he prodded. "I bet Mokuba would be into the idea."

"You know what your problem is, Wheeler?" Kaiba seethed.

"Huh?" Joey shrugged. "Lemme guess? I'm a deadbeat? Loser? Stupid mutt?"

The fire in the candles crackled. Joey was dreaming. In some world, what he was saying mattered – he was asleep – the objects on the hearth had more meaning than an empty tomb.

"No," Kaiba snipped. "You're pushy."

"Pushy?" Joey snorted incredulously. But, more importantly, Kaiba admitted he wasn't a dog, or at least admitted that that wasn't the problem. Wasn't that something to crow about? He grinned and turned to face Kaiba.

Kaiba was right there, frowning. Joey's grin faltered. He stepped back instinctively into the wall. Kaiba leaned over him and glared down angrily. The candles illuminated the furious contortion of his face.

"Do you think this is a joke, Wheeler?" he asked.

It occurred rapidly to Joey that it wasn't.

"You're arrogant," Kaiba spat. "You're demeaning. You're careless, and clueless. Do you think I enjoy this, Wheeler? Do you think I enjoy having you barge in here like you own the place, like you can casually lay claim to everything I've struggled and suffered and killed for?"

Kaiba pressed a hand against the mantle, just above and to the side of Joey's face. He wasn't looking at Joey. His eyes focussed in on the blank wall under his hand. They glanced up towards where Joey knew the portrait of Noa was. Joey own eyes watched them pan up, then back down. Dark and bright.

A neat row of white teeth flashed as Kaiba spoke.

"You trampled into my private life, got an eyeful of everything I wanted to destroy. You've preserved the memory of everything I hate." Kaiba laughed disingenuously. "Did you do me a favour?" he sneered. "Should I thank you for that?"

Joey felt himself flinch. His eyes narrowed.

"Kaiba," he warned.

Kaiba laughed again, cracked and broken.

"You're pushy," he mumbled. "Push open the doors. Disrupt everything. Toss it on the floor. Leave."

Kaiba pushed himself back from the mantle. He raised a hand up. He peeled up his bangs and covered his eyes.

When he stepped back and let his arm down, his eyes were cold and dry. They would not meet Joey.

"Leave, Wheeler," Kaiba said. "Go home. I'm sure you can find your way back out of the manor."

Kaiba turned to go, but looked back over his shoulder for a minute. When he spoke, he was very quiet – not disgusted or disdainful, just defeated.

"I'm sick of you."

Kaiba walked up the staircase. Joey watched him as he traced the path across to the left. He opened the pale grey door on the second level, walked through, and pulled it shut behind him.

Joey stood in the empty hall, with the candlelight at his back.

Left alone, with only the memory of Noa and the atrocities of Battle City to guide him, he felt somehow defeated too.

His eyes looked forward to the open archway opposite him. He considered the door back out of the manor, before walking forward instead. The smell of incense faded behind him, as he moved into the kitchen.

The smell of the singed teriyaki wafted lightly through the room, and Joey wasn't really hungry, after the banquet at the Banja premiere, but he found himself curious anyhow. The kitchen was spacious – larger than Joey's whole apartment – pattered in sleek white cupboards and stainless steel appliances. Joey went for the oven first, and opening it confirmed it had been used earlier in the evening. The smell from where the sauce had dripped and burned against the interior of the oven was strong. It smelled sweet and good, and Joey closed the oven behind him.

He opened five empty cupboards, before discovering the one that held the dishware. A few more cupboards still refused to produce any snacks, although the cupboard under the sink did hold a few cleaning supplies. From there he moved to the refrigerator.

There was a dish in the centre of the middle rack, holding a large portion of teriyaki duck. It was flanked with a bowl of white rice and a half-used bottle of mirin, and Joey snorted, because who bothered refrigerating rice and mirin. But it was almost good they were there, because it took attention away from the sparseness of the rest of the racks. There was a loaf of white bread near the top, and some pre-sliced cheese, and a jar filled with pickled vegetables. And Joey knew from Mokuba that there was a maid that came to prepare fresh meals daily, but there was still something sad and unlived about the empty spaces – the plastic and glass and the shelves on the refrigerator door.

Joey shut the fridge.

On the other side of the kitchen was the archway to a large, western-style dining room, with a long table and French windows that led out onto a balcony. Joey had forgotten that they were a level up, at such a height that, looking out across Kaiba's balcony and pitch black expanse of lawn, there was a relatively good view of the Domino City lights at night.

The dining room table had only two chairs, arranged at opposite ends. And Joey didn't feel quite right sitting in Kaiba's or Mokuba's space, so he grabbed the chair on the right – the one he assumed was Mokuba's – and lifted it over to a seat near the middle of the table, opposite the French door and balcony.

There was a draft coming from somewhere, and the breeze felt chilled and warm and wistful to him, as he took the seat he'd carved out for himself.

He propped his elbow on the table, and rested his chin in his hand, and let his eyes droop. They searched around the centrepiece of stargazer lilies, and out over the lawn to Domino's lighted downtown.

If Joey climbed up the rooftop of his apartment complex, as he had done more than a few summer nights, he could also gaze longingly over the city skyline. It struck him as odd that, here from the Kaiba mansion, the city and stars should look just as bright and far from reach. It wasn't exactly the same, but Joey couldn't find the differences as easily as he would have thought.

He wasn't sure how long he spend pondering in the wistful dark, or how long he'd spent nodding off into an uneasy sleep against his hand, but he was disturbed by the sudden pad of footsteps behind him.

Joey tilted his head slightly towards the intruder.

Mokuba rubbed his eyes sleepily and yawned.

"Hey, kiddo," Joey said softly. "You have a good evening?"

Mokuba's slippers muttered softly against the hardwood floor. His lanky teenage form looked softer in the muted night. His hair was down, and he was dressed in a pair of light blue pyjamas, decorated with red and white rockets ships.

"Mmm," Mokuba agreed, with a small nod. He paused for a minute, just to let himself settle. "Seto asked me to come down and check on you. We called a driver already, so I'll see you to the front entrance."

Mokuba's movements were slow. He didn't seem in a rush, so Joey continued to sit, staring out the window.

"Time to go home, Jounouchi," Mokuba prompted quietly.

Joey blinked, eyes trying to shut out the light of the city.

"He knew I was still here?"

"Security cameras," Mokuba explained.

Joey thought about Kaiba watching him watch the skyline. He spared a glance at Mokuba, who was still shaking the weariness off his form.

He looked away. He realised Kaiba had probably woken Mokuba up for this, and that they had postponed their sibling feud long enough to get Joey to leave.

"Are you mad at me?"

Joey heard how pleading and scared it was. He had to stop himself from cringing. He turned to look at Mokuba, and hoped the desperation didn't show in his face.

"Mad?" Mokuba asked. He blinked warily, and his brow furrowed. He looked at Joey, confused, unimpressed. "Why would I be angry with you?"

There was a wave of relief at this reassurance.

"Oh, I dunno," Joey answered. He wasn't even lying. He wasn't sure what had made him so ashamed for a moment there.

He pushed his chair back and stood.

"Nii-sama also asked me to return these to you."

Mokuba's nose scrunched as he thrust something at Joey – a plastic Ziploc bag Joey hadn't realised he was holding.

Joey cradled it in his arms instinctively, so it wouldn't drop, but he shuffled the bag around so he could get a better look. He recognised his shoes – Air Muscles, newly cleaned and stitched – sealed neatly inside the gallon bag.

"Oh, hey, he did give 'em back without a fight," Joey said fondly, jostling the bag in his arms. "I was afraid I'd have to rough him up to get them back."

Mokuba snorted.

"Nii-sama said you should take better care of the things you treasure." Mokuba crossed his arms over his chest.

Joey beamed. But then he looked down at the shoes he was wearing.

"Ah, what should I do about this suit and these shoes?" he pressed a hand over the smooth silk suit that Kaiba had lent him. And gazed down at the brown leather shoes.

Mokuba shrugged lazily. "Nii-sama didn't mention them… You can probably keep them. I doubt he cares."

"Eh~" Joey said lazily. This seemed like a hard answer to accept, but he wasn't going to argue about it with Mokuba. He wasn't going to argue about it with anybody this late at night, when he still needed to get home.

The stars shown through the window, and Joey was sleepy.

"Come on," Mokuba nodded his head towards the hall, repeating. "Time to go home."

.

.


AN: Among the art pieces that Joey's attention draws to are replicas(?) of Bernini's The Rape of Proserpina, Repin's Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan on November 16, 1581, and Hashiguchi Goyou's Kamisuki. They are themed, of course, but don't read too much into it. Part of me just chose them because they are pieces of artwork I like.