Author's Introduction:
Hooray for reviews! *does a little dance.* Jump, shake your booty, yay.
One perceptive reviewer pointed something out to me that I didn't even notice myself--I've kept all the American names so far (I don't know why…except for the atrocious "Marik", I just like them better), all except one--I've kept Solomon Motou's Japanese name, Sugoroku. Luckily, just as I was panicking, I remembered why I did it in the first place. *smiles.* I love meaning in all things, and I really liked that Sugoroku was named after a dice game, in keeping with the game theme. After all, life's just a game of sugoroku roulette, isn't it, Yami-Girl?…
Well, let's see what she thinks.
**
Chapter Three, Duel Eight: In These Shoes
**
I once met a man with a sense of adventure
He was dressed to thrill wherever he went
He said, "Let's make love on a mountaintop
Under the stars on a big hard rock"
I said "In these shoes? I don't think so."
I said "Honey--let's do it here."
(In These Shoes)
(Kirsty Maccoll)
**
"Joey, where the hell are we?" Tristan complained. Meanwhile, Yami tripped over a fallen garbage can.
"Don't worry about it!" Joey answered. "You got any place better to be?" They were currently in an alley that the sun never seemed to touch. They'd spent much of the afternoon wandering through similar alleys, full of similar shadows. Yami was wearing ankle boots and her feet were killing her. Tristan was just complaining for the hell of it. Joey ignored them both and looked at a map scribbled on a napkin from Burger World.
"Who drew that for you, Joey? Are you sure they knew what they were talking about?" Yami asked nervously, watching some rats scurry past a leaky drainpipe. "This place doesn't look very safe..."
"You're not scared, are you, Yami?" Tristan grinned.
Ever since the incident with Miho Nosaka, Ms. Chono, and the love-puzzle, Tristan had been much nicer to Yami, but it was still obvious that he didn't think of her as a true equal. Joey essentially thought of her as "one of the boys", and waited patiently while she shopped at Express before dragging her to the comic book shop every time they went to the mall, but to Tristan she was still a delicate, fragile little girl.
Yami didn't blame him. Tristan was tall and dark, his mahogany eyes slanted and secretive. His hair was shaved so high on either side that all that was left was stubble, and he used more gel on the top than was probably healthy. All he needed was a flashing sign above his head that read "Bad Ass". Yami had spent a lot of her life around very tough guys, and so she didn't mind that Tristan didn't feel she measured up yet.
The question was, how to prove it to him?
"Hey, this is the street! This is it!" Joey had turned a corner and started to run. "Junky Scorpion!"
Following Joey, Tristan and Yami looked up in surprise at a neon sign. An electric blue scorpion blinked and curled around the edge of the sign, while neon letters proclaimed "Junky Scorpion" in bright orange.
"They've gotta have what I'm looking for!" Joey cheered, running into the shop.
"I don't like this," Yami murmured she and Tristan followed Joey.
"A shoe store?" Yami asked, looking around at shelves of sneakers.
"Yeah, what'd you think we were coming for?" Joey asked.
"Drugs?" Yami asked, as Tristan said, "I was gonna have to go with drugs, Joe."
Once again, Joey ignored his friends. He was already drooling over a pair of sneakers. "Air Muscle!" he exclaimed. "These are the real deal!"
"We came all this way for shoes?" Tristan wasn't happy.
"Joey, those look a lot like your old sneakers," Yami said.
Joey sniffed. "Please, Yami. These are entirely different."
"Hey!" a voice yelled. "Those aren't for sale! They're incredibly rare!"
All three turned to see a tall, thin man with sunglasses, a do-rag, and a goatee snarling at them. He was wearing a dark blue sweat suit, the kind that were made for looking at rather than working out in. The hood hung low off his shoulders, and a few dreadlocks peeked out from under the do-rag.
Joey immediately held up the shoes. "Are you the owner? You've gotta sell me these sneakers!"
"Joey," Tristan said. "The guy said no sale."
"But we did come a long way to find this place," Yami added quickly, trying to appeal to the man's good side.
The shopkeeper's face was bland, but that might have been due to the sunglasses hiding his eyes. "There are more guys that want those sneakers than stars in the sky, but I can't sell them to just anyone. You gotta show you have the stuff to wear those sneakers!"
Apparently he didn't have a good side.
"I've got it." Joey stabbed himself with his thumb. "How much you want?"
Tristan groaned. "Don't you know how to bargain, Joe?"
But the shopkeeper interrupted with a smirk. "How about we play a little game to see if you have the right stuff?"
Yami's ears perked up without her realizing it. "A game?"
The shopkeeper reached into the collar of his sweatshirt and drew out a string he wore around his neck. Tied to the end of the string was a live, squirming scorpion, tail lashing in fury at being handled. Yami drew back, shuddering at the sight of it.
"Eww!"
The shopkeeper chuckled. "This scorpion's more than a mascot. It's a real one, with real poison!" He scooped the scorpion up in one hand and tipped his hand over the sneaker.
"You got the balls to put your foot in there?" he cackled.
"Joey, no," Tristan said immediately, at the same time Yami said, "We are so not doing this."
"Joey, we are not the Electric Network," Tristan said. The Electric Network was a group of stuntmen who spent their time swallowing strange objects and performing dangerous feats. "This is nuts."
"It's too dangerous, Joey," Yami agreed.
Joey looked from the shoes to his friends, then to the shopkeeper. "I'll show you who's got balls!" he snarled suddenly, jamming his foot into the sneaker. Yami and Tristan froze.
Nothing happened.
The shopkeeper started to clap his hands. "Heh. You pass!" He held up the scorpion, still tied to its string. "I didn't really put the scorpion in there. I was just testing you. Nice job--the shoes are yours!"
Yami cheered. "Hooray!"
Tristan was less than enthused, but it might have been because Joey had him in a celebratory half-nelson. "Awright!!" the blond boy exulted.
Joey paid as if he were buying Kobe Bryant's shoes right off his feet. Yami looked closely at the shoes, but she couldn't find anything truly special about them--or any difference between them and Joey's old sneakers, aside from the holes that the latter were full of.
As they were leaving the shop, the shopkeeper added something. "Now, a warning."
"Now, a warning?" Yami asked incredulously.
The shopkeeper smirked. "I'd be careful if I were you...some gang calling themselves Muscle Hunters is going around stealing rare shoes."
"Rare shoes?" Yami said. "No way..."
"I can handle anything!" Joey proclaimed, marching out the door. Well, skipping out the door.
"Oh man." Tristan buried his face in his hands. "He has to stop that."
Yami tried not to cringe. "Even little kids don't skip like that..."
Because of the skipping, Yami and Tristan were keeping an embarrassed distance from Joey, which proved to be bad five minutes after they had left the shop.
The sound of running footsteps suddenly drowned out the beat of the skipping. Suspicious, Tristan turned around just in time to get whacked in the gut with a wrench by a guy in a bandanna.
"Tristan!" Yami cried, and was then lifted off her feet from behind by another punk. "Hey! Let me go!"
But Yami and Tristan weren't really the ones in trouble. Two more hoods had dropped a tire over Joey's head, effectively trapping his arms at his sides. "What the hell?!?" Joey yelled.
There were four of them in all, two on Joey, and one each on Tristan and Yami. Yami elbowed the one holding her in the stomach and he dropped her, wheezing. Yami would reflect later that she must have made him mad because he pushed her hard into the side of the nearest building. Her head hit the brick with a loud crack and she stopped fighting, dazed.
Tristan had no weapon. He tried to drive a fist into Bandanna's gut, but a few good whacks with the wrench to his shoulder left his arm numb and gave an opening for the punk to hit him in the face.
It didn't matter anyway, because the ringleader was already prying the Air Muscles off Joey's feet. He was grinning, showing a mouthful of broken teeth. "No offense, but these shoes are too good for you, you know?"
The one who had pushed Yami was chuckling. A white ski hat was pulled over his eyebrows "You can walk home in your bare feet!" he called over his shoulder as they jogged away.
By the time everyone could get up, they were gone. Yami and Tristan pried the tire off Joey.
"Yo...you guys okay?" Joey asked dizzily.
"Ow, ow, ow," Yami whimpered, clutching her head. "Is it bleeding?"
"It must have been those Hunters!" Tristan deduced.
"I didn't even have the Air Muscles on for two blocks!" Joey mourned, looking at the holes in his old socks. Remembering that was a petite female in the group, he turned quickly to Yami. Wouldn't do to get his best friend killed before the semester ended. "Does it hurt bad, Yami?"
Since Yami was the only girl and petite besides, the boys were overprotective of her. Tristan helped her up, one hand under each arm. "You okay, kiddo?"
"I'm sorry I got you both into this," Joey apologized. "Yami, can you get home alone?"
"Home? Alone?" Yami was puzzled. "What about you and Tristan?"
"I want my sneakers back!" Joey said.
"And I owe those guys a beating!" Tristan said, pumping his fist into the air like a drum major. "We're gonna get revenge!"
"Not without me, you're not!" Yami pointed to her head. "I want a piece, too!"
"You sure that's not the head injury talking?" Tristan chuckled.
Yami shook her chocolate-vanilla head. "Nope. This is all fists. We'd better hurry if we want to catch those jerks."
The boys grinned at her. "All right, let's go!" Joey agreed.
"Way to be tough, Yami!" Tristan added appreciatively, nodding at Yami as if he were pleasantly surprised that she wanted to come along and hand out beatdowns too.
They took off running in the direction the Hunters had gone. The search led them to the arcade. It didn't take long to spot the Hunters crowded around a game.
"Let me do the talking," Joey said, leading the way. "You guys just stay in the background and look menacing."
"Uhh...Joey?" Yami asked. She didn't need to finish the sentence.
Joey rethought his words. "Okay. Tristan, you stay in the background and look menacing. Yami, you...you glare as hard as you can."
Yami frowned.
"Yeah, like that!" Joey coached, and Yami sighed and shook her head.
Joey walked up to the game and tapped the ringleader on the shoulder, surprising him.
"Whoa, man," the kid said, holding his hands up in front of him.
"Whoa, nothing," Joey said. "We ain't cowards. We come from the front!"
"If I remember correctly, you tough guys and Strawberry Shortcake over there didn't do so well in the last fight!" the one in the ski hat sneered.
Quick as a striking snake, Yami reached out and seized the boy by his ski hat, slamming his head down onto the machine's console. The screen blinked "Game Over, Insert Coin" over and over again. Groaning, he lifted his head, blood flowing down his face. "You broge my node!"
"The chick's hurting him!" another yelled, starting out of his chair.
Joey and Tristan were equally stunned, but they were smart enough not to say, Golly gee whiz, how'd she do that in front of the bad guys?
"Um, feel free to jump in at any time, guys," Yami prompted.
"Oh, right!" Joey and Tristan each took a swing at the other punks, as if it had been choreographed. This time it was the gang that was unprepared. Joey in particular took delight in kicking them in the face with his dirty socks, a fate Yami and Tristan wouldn't have wished on their worst enemy.
"You shouldn't have picked a fight with us!" Tristan threw a right hook that connected solidly with Bandanna's jaw. Yami had kicked Ski Hat's stool out from under him and was now standing on his chest, grinding her heels into him.
"I want my friend's sneakers back!" she demanded.
"We dun habe 'em!" Ski Hat puffed, holding one hand to his smashed nose.
"Who does?" Yami said, keeping one foot on his chest and pressing the other almost delicately to his cheek, pushing his face to the floor.
"The shobkeeber pays us 3000 yen abiece ebery dime," Ski Hat wheezed. "Get the fuck offa me, Shortcake! I dun habe your friend's fucking sdeakers!"
Yami's eyes went wide as she stepped off the boy's chest. The shopkeeper? That CHEAT--he's been swindling people! He knew how much Joey wanted those sneakers. He took Joey's money and had us beaten up! Oh, I could just....!
With a sudden leap, she took off for the back door of the arcade, leaving Ski Hat huffing and puffing on the floor, relearning how to breathe.
"What's going on here?" the arcade owner yelled. Everyone froze. Joey dropped the kid whose collar he'd been yanking, and Tristan crawled out from beneath a pile of punks.
"Come on, man, let's go!" Joey said, hauling him up. The arcade owner was busy yelling, "I'm gonna call the cops on you punk kids!"
"Go, go!" Tristan and Joey sprinted for the front door.
"You okay?" Tristan puffed, once they were outside.
"Yeah," Joey answered. "What about you, Yami?"
No answer.
Tristan blinked, looking around. "Hey, Yami?"
They were alone. Joey glanced back towards the door of the arcade. "Yami! Where are you?"
"Is she still in there?" Tristan asked. "She was kicking butt. Did you see her?"
Joey nodded absently. "She was pretty mad when she heard what the shopkeep did."
Tristan looked worriedly at Joey, but shook his head. "Nah," he said. "You don't think...you don't think she'd..."
"Oh, crap!" Joey answered. "C'mon, we gotta go help her."
**
"I love these fanatics," the shopkeeper murmured. "All for a pair of sneakers. What morons."
"Takes one to know one, pal," a voice answered, flowing like dark water from the doorway.
The shopkeeper turned to see the small girl who had accompanied the blond boy who bought the Air Muscles to the shop before. "Hey, look at the sign, girlie. We're closed."
"Not for me, you aren't." The girl strode into the shop, her walk free-swinging and confident. "I know that you paid the hunters to steal my friend's sneakers back. You will give them to me now."
The shopkeeper's eyes widened behind his sunglasses. He looked at the sneakers in his hands. "Uh, how did these get here?! Of course, take them! They're yours!" Fumbling for the string around his neck, he quickly slipped the scorpion into one shoe without the girl noticing, this time for real. He held the sneakers out to Yami, smirking. Take them, girly girl. All you'll get is a poison sting!
Yami's small fist moved closer to the shoes, and the shopkeeper waited impatiently for her to touch them.
Except she didn't. Opening her fist over the sneaker with the scorpion in it, she dropped a handful of coins into the depths of the shoe. They clinked.
"What did you do that for?" the shopkeeper asked, angry his plan had been foiled.
Yami smiled silkily. "It's a game! Just like your test of courage!" She pointed to the shoes. "Only this time there is a scorpion in that sneaker!"
So she had seen after all. The shopkeeper frowned. What's with this brat?
"It's a really easy game, so I'll only explain once and hope you get it. We'll take turns pulling coins out of the sneaker and hope your scorpion doesn't sting us! Whoever gets the most coins wins."
The shopkeeper snickered. "Okay, but if I win, you owe me 100,000 yen for each coin!"
Yami frowned. "What is with men and their money? Very well. But if I win, all I need are these sneakers back. I don't gamble...with my money." She grinned wolfishly, small full lips skinning back from her teeth.
The shopkeeper's smirk faded at the sight of the sneaker, hiding death in its darkness. Yami was impatient.
"Getting cold feet, tough guy? Then I'll go first." Yami reached her tiny hand into the sneaker, and the game began.
The shopkeeper took a coin next, sweating. "That scorpion wouldn't bite the hand that feeds it!"
"We'll see who gets bitten." Yami slid her hand almost delicately into the sneaker, but her red eyes were slightly nervous. She removed a coin, sighing softly.
The shopkeeper's eyes were also nervous, but his sunglasses hid the expression from Yami. I've got to figure out a way to wring some money from this kid. "I'm getting nowhere, one coin at a time," he mumbled aloud, and Yami shook her dark head.
"I wouldn't talk lightly of nowhere. Death waits in that sneaker, and it hears you."
The shopkeeper missed Yami's point entirely, but the mention of death had given him an idea. "Hey, girlie, I got a question for ya. As long as I reach into the shoe for the coins, anything goes, right?"
"Correct," was Yami's answer.
The shopkeeper grinned. "Good! Then this goes too!" Suddenly brandishing a knife, he plunged it into the sneaker where he thought the scorpion might be, the blade slicing through the laces and biting into the front of the shoe. "I can take all the coins at once!"
"By Ra!" Yami said angrily. "Am I the only one who doesn't carry a knife?"
"Pay up, chickie!" the shopkeeper demanded.
Yami shook her head, waving a finger back and forth admonishingly. "You haven't won until you take your hand out of the sneaker, greedy man. And is the scorpion truly dead?"
A skittering sound made the shopkeeper freeze. He tried to pull his hand out of the sneaker, but the fistful of coins was stuck in the shoe, trapped, perfect prey for...
Yami smiled silkily. "In the Shadow Games, those with weak hearts always lose."
**
Tristan and Joey sprinted back to Junky Scorpion, the napkin map forgotten. The glass door of the shop blinked alternately red and white.
"An ambulance?" Tristan asked.
"Oh, crap!" Joey repeated. "Yami!"
"Joey!" Yami answered from the curb. She was sitting placidly in front of the shop, Joey's sneakers in her lap.
"Yami!" Both boys ran towards her.
"Are you okay?" Joey demanded.
"You shouldn't have run off like that!" Tristan said.
Yami had the grace to look embarrassed. "Sorry I worried you."
"You should have waited for us," Joey said. "We were gonna kick the guy's ass!"
"Well, nobody got a chance to kick his ass," Yami said, pointing to the ambulance. "Apparently, his scorpion didn't like the way it was being treated before. It stung the owner! They're taking him to the hospital!...But look!" Yami smiled proudly, holding up the shoes. "I got your sneakers back."
"I'll be damned," Tristan said with a smile.
She pouted suddenly, looking down at the shoes. "I don't know why, Joey, but there's a hole in these sneakers..."
Joey smiled down at his best friend. "That's okay, Yami. We can think of it as a battle scar! Thanks for getting 'em back."
"Yeah, you did pretty good today," Tristan said, offering his hands to the still-seated Yami. Pulling her to her feet, he couldn't resist adding, "Shortcake!"
Yami punched him in the shoulder. "You are gonna get such a beating."
Tristan shook his head. "No, no, Yami, check out the right way to punch," he coached, taking Yami's fist in his larger hand and guiding it through the motion of a right hook. "You gotta follow through."
"Seriously, Yami," Joey asked. "You really did a number on that guy in the arcade. Where'd you learn to do that?"
Yami just shrugged and smiled. "When you're small, you get picked on a lot. A hundred and twenty pounds isn't a lot of muscle to throw around. You have to make up for it somehow."
"We'll help you make up for it," Tristan said. "I'll show you the Tristan Taylor Touch of Death!" He crooked his fingers menacingly at Yami. "You know, for next time."
"Next time?" Yami asked hopefully.
"Yeah, next time," Joey said, "only there isn't gonna be a next time, since these shoes are never leaving my feet!" He jogged ahead, leaving behind an embarrassed Yami and Tristan.
"He's so sleeping with those shoes on tonight," Tristan sighed, shaking his head.
"It could be worse," Yami said. "He could be skipping."
**
Author's Note:
Yayyyy! I love writing things! *is dancing again.*
Hope this was a good one…but stay tuned, next chapter is when things start to get really interesting!