The Weaker Sex Chapter 6: Faith, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

Author's Introduction:

Before I start this chapter, I want to make something clear. There was a reviewer who seemed offended by the title of this story--"The Weaker Sex"--because she didn't think being a girl made her weak. Of course it doesn't! I'm a girl, too, and I don't think that either! I'm the strongest person I know! *smiles.*

I want to make it perfectly clear that that's not what I meant at all by the title. It's supposed to be a joke--many people refer to females as "the fair sex" or "the weaker sex", and being female, I know that it's simply not true. I like the idea of the pun in the title "The Weaker Sex" because while the character of Yugi, bless his little heart, is a bit of a pushover before his alter ego takes control, Yami-girl is busy kicking ass. *grins.* The idea is that the title's so obviously wrong--she isn't weak at all.

My sincere apologies, in case anyone else was offended. Maybe now it's clear?

Okay! On with chapter six. *smiles.* One of my favorite things about the "Yu-Gi-Oh!" series is the theme of friendship. Sure, painful beatings are a regular occurrence in Domino City, but it's always nice to see friends going up to bat for each other. That's what real friends do.

After all, if you can't get the stuffing beaten out of you in defense of a friend, when can you get the stuffing beaten out of you?

Chapter Six, Eleventh Duel: Faith

With a little more faith I could keep myself together

With a little more faith

With a little more faith I could keep our love together

With a little more faith I could wake up and face the day

(Faith)

(Tori Amos)

"If all you have is a hammer, every problem is going to look like a nail."

(Massad Ayoob)

Sugoroku Motou chuckled as his granddaughter hopped down the stairs in one shoe and one sock.

"Grandpa!" Yami yelled, half of her shoulder-length brunette hair still up in the pigtails she'd been sleeping in. "Where's my—"

Sugoroku smiled and handed Yami a black ankle boot. "Here you go, honey. You'd better hurry, or you'll miss your bus!"

"Don't worry, Grandpa," Yami assured the old man, hopping across the room on the booted foot while tugging on her other shoe, a toothbrush stuck in her mouth. "Euffichuff fuff."

"What was that now?" Sugoroku asked, arranging a game of senet on display.

"I said, everything's fine," Yami said, brushing out the remaining pigtail till her hair swirled above her shoulders. "I won't be late! And even if I am, Joey'll probably still be outside!"

Sugoroku chuckled. "I'm glad you made friends so quickly, Yami. You actually look like you're going to school in the morning, not to war."

Yami grinned, stroking the Millennium Puzzle around her neck—which she had put on before putting on her shoes or brushing her teeth—and winked at her grandfather. "Well, I had a little help."

And with that, she threw the shoulder strap of her black satchel over her shoulder and jogged out the door. "See you later, Grandpa!" The bell jingled and Yami's dark hair shimmered behind her as she ran.

"Have a good day, honey," Sugoroku called after his granddaughter, settling down with the morning paper. The headline read, "New Tomb Found in Egypt". A picture of the pharaoh's mummy was blown up beneath the headline, along with a picture of the two archaeologists responsible for the find. "Domino University Archaeological Team Discovers Tomb From New Kingdom Era, (1580-1314 BC)".

"Well, I'll be damned," Sugoroku chuckled, recognizing one of the archaeologists. Yami would get a kick out of it when she got home. But for now, it was only a news story, and that brunette was on her way to more immediate problems.

Every morning, it was the same thing. Get up, alarm clock, lip gloss, matching socks. Down the stairs, front door, side streets, bus stop. Step off, court yard, home room, finally arrive at her desk in front of—

—"Joey?" Yami asked, blinking crimson eyes at the empty chair behind her own. She looked around the room, hoop earrings jingling beneath her straight chocolate hair. "Joey...?"

No sign of her tall blond friend. Yami wilted a little beneath her blue uniform jacket, brows drooping slightly at the thought of spending a whole day without Joey to talk to...or hang around with...or make fun of the teachers with...or...

This was going to be a very bad day.

"Hey, Shortcake," Tristan said, locking his arms around Yami's waist from behind and picking her up. "What's new?"

Yami giggled. "Put me down, Tristan."

Tristan growled in a poor Godzilla imitation and was about to carry Yami across the room when he suddenly dropped her in an ungraceful bundle onto the floor. "Hey, where's Joey?!"

"Hey!" Yami piped up from the floor. "Tristan! What's the big idea?"

Tristan dropped to his knees beside her, his mahogany eyes as dark as a tomb and even more serious. "Sorry, Yami, but have you seen Joey?" he whispered urgently, breath stirring her vanilla bangs.

Yami's eyes widened, and she shook her head, earrings shivering against her hair. "No. I haven't seen him all morning. Is he sick? This is the first time he's missed school since I've been here."

"This is the first time he's missed school, period," Tristan said, pulling Yami to her feet. "Something's gotta be wrong."

"Are you sure?" Yami asked uncertainly, glancing at Joey's empty desk. "Maybe he's just sick..."

"Joey could be dying, and he'd still come in to school," Tristan said, shaking his head. "No, something's wrong. Will you come with me to his place after school? I know where he lives."

"Sure," Yami said, patting the tall boy's arm gently. She had never seen Tristan so worried—his dark eyes glittered and his stance was closed-off. "Don't worry, Tris. We'll get to the bottom of this."

"Right now we've got bigger problems," Tristan grumped, folding his arms as the bell rang for homeroom. "How are we going to reenact this month's Naruto in chem with only two shinobi?..."

That afternoon saw Yami and Tristan walking down a dark, quiet hallway. The wall-to-wall carpeting was the color of grave dirt, and the brass nameplates at the side of the doors had turned aqua with age. The plate next to the door of the last apartment on the third floor was scuffed and almost unreadable, but "Whe...r" was visible.

Tristan knocked politely with his knuckles. Yami shifted her weight from one foot to the other. There was no answer, so Tristan knocked loudly, with the side of his fist. "Hello?"

Still no answer. Yami moved around Tristan and clasped a hand over the brass doorknob so it was hard to notice the contrast of gold on gold. She jiggled the knob, the sound almost too loud in the empty hallway, and to the surprise of both teens it turned. "Hey," Yami whispered. "It's open. Maybe we should take a peek...?"

"Yeah," Tristan breathed. "We'd just be looking..." He pushed the door slightly open and peeked inside the dark apartment. Yami ducked under his arm so she could look too—

—and a shattering sound froze them both as a bottle flew in a graceful arc across the entryway and smashed against the door, bleeding beer onto the carpet, walls, and doorframe.

"Eep!" Yami yipped, swallowing her pulse and huddling under Tristan's arm. The door ricocheted back with the force of the bottle's impact, and as it opened wider a pair of dusty work boots could be seen propped on a Formica kitchen table. More of the burgundy bottles were scattered over the table and on the visible floor. The smell made Yami's tiny nose wrinkle.

The boots shifted with a slithering sound, and the voice of a dormant beast flared out into the hallway. "Hey! You brat! Where ya been the last two days!" The angry words were marred by occasional hiccoughs.

In the time it took Yami to get very very nervous, Tristan had grabbed her hand and sprinted down the hallway, so fast that the small girl's feet barely touched the floor. Grave-dirt carpet and dusty walls flew by in a blur until they were back out into the harsh afternoon sunlight, huffing and puffing.

"Was that...?" Yami panted, chest heaving, thin shoulders shuddering.

"Yeah," Tristan huffed. "That's his dad. He's been like that forever. That's why Joey never has his friends over..."

Yami's eyes went soft as she looked back up at the dim apartment window. No wonder Joey never misses school. If that were my father, I wouldn't want to be home either. She placed a hand over her heart and smiled, remembering her grandfather's easy smile and fierce hug. "But Joey wasn't there. His dad said that he's been gone two days. Where could he be?"

"Only one way to find out," Tristan said.

Late afternoon was shading into evening, the sun sliding like a bloody coin across the lion-colored sky, when Yami and Tristan ran out of ideas. Yami kicked a rock dejectedly with the toe of one ankle boot. "No good...he's nowhere!"

Tristan rubbed a hand under his chin, brow furrowing in thought. "Where could he be? We've checked all his usual haunts—the arcade, the mall, the automat..."

Yami hugged herself, even though the evening was warm. "Something's wrong, Tristan, I just know it."

Even though the Junky Scorpion incident had raised Tristan's respect of Yami greatly, she was still a girl, and he felt bad for making her worry. He threw a comradely arm around her, his large hand swallowing her small shoulder. "Hey, don't worry, Shortcake. Joey'll show up tomorrow like nothing's wrong. You'll see. Let's get you home before it gets dark, okay?"

Yami was about to nod when a shout made them both flinch.

"Hey, man! What's the idea, stepping on my foot? Why dontcha look where you walk?" A group of punks had a middle-school kid surrounded, and a bespectacled, freckled bully had the boy by his collar. He was flanked by two other boys. Both had brown hair, one dark and slicked down, the other paler, gelled into a crop of spikes. They were tense, waiting for a fight. Two broad-shouldered boys stood guard, preventing the kid's escape. One had a flattop and merciless slitted eyes; the other was made up of blunt angles, a brown ponytail curling over the collar of his school uniform.

Yami tensed beneath Tristan's arm, and he frowned. "Yami? Something wrong?" He looked over at the group. "Oh. That's Rintama's school uniform. That place is bad news..."

"Yeah, I know," Yami hissed, eyes wide and wary. "Can we get out of here, please?"

Tristan looked puzzled. "You okay? You know those guys?"

Yami sneaked a quick peek back at the Rintama boys. "Not personally, but I don't want to get involved with anyone from Rintama. I--sort of used to go to school there."

Tristan looked as though Yami had just told him that the moon was in fact made of green cheese. "You've got to be kidding."

She shook her head, sort of sadly. "If it makes you feel any better, I hated it there," she offered.

Tristan blinked amber eyes at her, trying to sort through that ridiculousness--Yami Motou in the toughest high school in the area. "Lucky you came to Domino High this year, then."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Yami said, her voice flat with self-disgust. "I got thrown out."

"What!"

And so, for the next quarter hour, Tristan's eyes were wide in a sort of fascinated horror as Yami told the story. She looked embarrassed, and was finding it hard to meet his amber gaze. "Yeah. I used to go to Rintama. The stories are true--it's pretty rough there. Since I'm so small, I used to get picked on a lot."

Tristan immediately felt guilty for how he'd treated Yami when she'd first come to Domino High. He'd seen her as a pushover, an easy target. The kids at Rintama had probably thought the same thing.

Yami ran a hand through her chocolate hair, sighing, and Tristan tried to think of everything he'd learned about her since they'd become friends. She loved games. Her favorite manga was "Naruto". She'd sold her soul to punk music. She was loyal to her friends--she'd proven that by standing up to Ms. Chono in his place, and she was proving it again by being so worried about Joey.

"I'm sorry, Yami," Tristan muttered, not because of how she'd been treated in Rintama, but because of how he, Tristan, had treated her.

Yami didn't understand his meaning, however; she simply waved the painful past away with one hand. "It's no big deal. I held my own. After I beat a few of them, it got better."

Realization came to Tristan. "That's why you leaned to fight like you did at the arcade, so you'd be good enough to beat them."

Yami nodded. "I don't think anyone was expecting me to hit back, so it worked in my favor. Some people decided they just didn't want the trouble. I still got picked on and had to fight people, but it was less people."

Tristan was trying to reconcile his mental image of Yami "Strawberry Shortcake" Motou with the story she was telling. "What happened?"

Yami nodded again, ready to tell her story to its end. "There was a guy who seemed sort of cool. We cut class one day to smoke. He got the wrong idea..." She blushed and trailed off, ashamed. "Let's just say he tried his hand at felony sexual assault."

Tristan got the message, lips pursed in a soundless whistle. "He didn't...hurt you, did he?" Somehow he couldn't bring himself to say the words.

Thankfully, Yami shook her head no. "He tore the front of my blouse, that's all. I sort of hurt him, though." Once again embarrassment sat on her brow. "We both got expelled, him for attacking me, and me for hitting him way too hard."

"That's why you didn't fight Ushio the hall monitor," Tristan concluded. "You promised your grandfather you wouldn't fight anymore."

Once again, Yami nodded. "Grandpa never liked me fighting all the time. That's why he tried to teach me about games and puzzles and riddles--so I'd use my brain instead of my fists. He said that if all I had was a hammer, every problem was going to look like a nail."

Tristan was impressed, brows arching. "That's deep." He made a fist and pressed it gently to Yami's jaw. "Hey, Shortcake. We don't have to go over there if you don't want to, okay?"

Yami looked embarrassed once again, crimson eyes shimmering. "I'm sorry, Tristan. I just don't want things to be the way they were then--I don't want to be that girl again." Yami began to turn her head back towards the Rintama gang as she spoke. "Nothing could make me go over there, not even--Joey!"

The last word was a shout, and Tristan jumped. "Huh?"

Yami tugged on his sleeve urgently. "Tristan, it's him! It's Joey!"

Tristan followed her pointing finger to the edge of the group of hoods. Sure enough, dispassionately watching them kick their fallen target, was Joey.

"What??" Tristan hissed in disbelief. "Why's he with those punks from Rintama?!"

The large boy with the ponytail--the leader, apparently--was speaking. "Come on, Joey. Let's go to our new place. It's called J'Z. You'll like it."

"We've got to stop him," Yami breathed, and just like that she was jogging towards the gang, all fear forgotten, as if she hadn't just spent the last fifteen minutes telling Tristan a horror story about her past at Rintama.

"Yami, wait--" Tristan grabbed at Yami's jacket and came up with a handful of air. Too late.

"Joey!" Yami called as she got closer. "Joey!"

The gang turned almost as one to watch her approach. "Hey, baby, what's your name?" the one with spikes asked, flicking ash from his cigarette.

Yami ignored him; she had eyes only for Joey. "Joey! Why'd you skip school? What are you doing with this...trash?"

The kid with glasses bristled. "What'd you call us, sweetheart?"

Yami answered him, but never took her eyes off Joey. "You heard me. Now excuse me, I'm trying to talk to my friend here."

Glasses turned to Joey. "Friend? Do you know Blondie over here, Joey? She your squeeze?"

Joey tossed old-gold forelocks out of his eyes. "Nah. Neva seen her. Let's go."

Yami allowed her surprise to show freely on her face. "Joey! What's gotten into you?"

The huge guy with the ponytail smirked. "You're too nice, Joey. She got any cute friends back at Domino High for me?" He laughed a smoker's laugh and clapped Joey on the back. Joey's expression never changed. "You should have come to Rintama with us from the start."

Tristan's teeth gritted at the sight of the boy with the ponytail. That's Hirutani! I've seen him with Joey before! Why's he back with him now?

"Joey," Yami's voice was pleading. "No."

"Quit your bitching, Blondie!" Glasses tugged on Yami's hair. She wasn't in the mood to be teased, however, and retaliated with a closed fist. Shouts of surprise came from the gang. Glasses rubbed his cheek with one hand and backhanded Yami with the other. "Little bitch!"

Yami staggered from the hit, but didn't fall. Tristan caught her arm, keeping her steady.

Hirutani thought this was all wonderful entertainment. "Hey, she fights! I like that!"

Glasses guffawed rudely. "Who said you could talk to Joey, short stuff? If I ever see your face again you're not going to like what I do to you."

"Shut up," Tristan growled. "You all right, Yami?" He shook her a little.

Yami's crimson eyes were droopy. Her cheek was already swollen, blood dripping in strings from a shallow cut--Glasses was wearing a lot of rings. "J...Joey..."

The gang laughed loudly as they sauntered off, leaving Yami in the tender care of Tristan.

"What is with you, Joey?" Tristan snarled to the blond's retreating back. No answer.

*****

The Ancient Playground was an island of noise in uptown Domino. The laughter of small children was like a knife through Tristan's head as he held a tissue under the water fountain, soaking it. Once it was damp, he walked back to where Yami was lying on the side of a pyramid-shaped climbing structure, catching the last of the dying sun, eyes closed in pain.

Tristan pressed the tissue to Yami's bruised cheek. "Here. It's all I've got."

Yami opened her eyes a little, taking the tissue and sitting up. "I'm okay," she said dully. "It just doesn't make sense."

"It does to me," Tristan said darkly, leaning against the side of the pyramid. "Joey was in a gang, way back in middle school. There was a time when he lived to fight with other gangs, sometimes even high school gangs. He had a long record...they almost sent him to jail. That's when he was with Hirutani."

The tall boy sighed. "I used to really look up to him then. He used to always look out for the younger guys, and he never beat up on people weaker than him...what's his problem?" He slid down the side of the pyramid to sit on the ground, cradling his head in his hands. "Dammit."

Yami gripped her Millennium Puzzle in both hands, finding comfort in its weight and looking up at the sunset sky. Whether the puzzle was magic or not, she'd made friends with Joey because of it, and it was a constant reminder to her of what could happen with a little more faith.

"Faith..." she murmured, and Tristan lifted his head. "Hm?"

"Tristan, that's it," she said, smiling at him. "Joey hasn't changed. He couldn't have! I believe that, don't you?"

Looking into Yami's earnest smile, Tristan felt a smile of his own forming on his face. "...Hey, yeah! Joey would never treat his best buds that way!"

Yami got to her feet. "Then let's go get him back!"

"Right on." Tristan turned, facing downtown. "They said they were going to some place called 'J'Z', right?"

The two set off downtown, ready to knock some sense into their friend. Storm clouds were boiling on the horizon.

Nick Vaughan was having a bad day.

Being the newest member of the gang sucked--it meant you did all the grunt work. Right now he was traipsing the streets searching for an obscure brand of foreign cigarettes--only the best for Hirutani.

"Hi there."

Nick raised his head. The day was looking up--the voice belonged to a cute little chick blocking his path. She dimpled at him, throwing brown hair off her shoulder. She was wearing a blue jacket, like the boys at Domino High wore. Nick's eyes swept over her petite frame, from her feet to her face. Nice legs, good rack.

"Domino High?" he asked, running a hand through his black hair. "You're a little lost if you're looking for that school."

The chick's smile was oddly sweet. "Oh, but I wasn't looking for the school," she said as someone grabbed Nick from behind, holding his arms useless behind his back. "I was looking for you."

Nick Vaughan was having a very bad day.

Joey propped his feet up on a J'Z table. He was dying for a cigarette, but everyone else was smoking and he refused to join in simply for the sake of being contrary.

"Glad you found us, Joey!" Hirutani said, waving a hand grandly. "Have a smoke! We'll have some fun, just like old times."

The glasses-wearing punk--some wannabe named Phil that Joey had never met--was busy kissing Hirutani's ass. "Excuse me, Hirutani, but you're out of cigarettes, aren't you? Please, have one of mine." He extended a skinny arm to offer Hirutani the pack, then turned just in time to catch a hateful glare from Joey.

Phil chuckled nervously. "Is there something stuck on my face, Joey?"

Joey got to his feet almost languidly, advancing towards Phil, who took a quick puff on his cigarette. The other members of the gang watched silently, predatory beasts waiting for the signal to strike.

"Whatcha thinking about, Joey? Don't like our hospitality? You'd rather be playing house with Blondie?"

No answer from Joey save that hateful glare.

*****

Tristan was holding the unlucky Nick Vaughan's arms useless behind his back, putting him in prime interrogation position for Yami. She stared him down...well, up. "Start talking. Why's Joey hanging out with those jerks from Rintama?"

"Gaaaaaack..." Nick was wriggling weakly, vainly trying to escape Tristan's hold. "Hirutani's been bringing his old friends in to expand the gang's turf...even that jerk Joey Wheeler! But Wheeler refused, so Hirutani had to...persuade him." Despite his situation, Nick smiled, exposing a mouthful of surfboard teeth. "That punk went as white as a sheet!"

Yami and Tristan exchanged nervous looks, then Yami turned her attention back to Nick. "What did Hirutani say?" she pressed, and Tristan tightened his hold.

Nick coughed. "Hirutani said if Joey didn't join our gang, he'd beat up all the kids in his Domino High class one by one. When he heard that--"

Or rather, when Yami heard that, she shut Nick up with a roundhouse punch so fierce that she ended with her back to him. "You bastard."

Tristan let the now-unconscious Nick slide down to huddle against the alley wall. "Whoa!" he chuckled appreciatively. "Is that the old Yami?"

Yami turned to give him a wry grin. "Yeah. She's on call for the truly deserving."

"I think those Rintama guys are deserving," Tristan said.

"Truly," was Yami's answer. "Let's go."

Joey circled the glasses-wearing punk like a shark scenting blood in the water. "No way I'm letting that pass," he rumbled, speaking for the first time.

"Huh?" Phil seemed to sense the hit coming, throwing his arm up to protect himself. Joey was too fast for him, however, and sent him sprawling with a right hook.

"No way I'm letting you get away with hitting my friend!" Joey roared as the punk's glasses went flying and his cigarette skittered across the floor.

Hirutani chuckled, taking a drag on his own cigarette. "About time, Joey, that you got that old look in your eyes. Too bad for you that it's aimed at us."

As soon as it had appeared, the smile dropped from Hirutani's face. "Boys!" he barked. "Joey needs an attitude adjustment! Hold him down!"

It was Joey's turn to be in the center of a ring of sharks. He tensed and glared at them, knowing a bluff wouldn't be enough...

Yami sprinted down the block towards J'Z, heart hammering beneath the Millennium Puzzle bouncing on her chest. Tristan was in hot pursuit. "Wait, Yami, we need a plan!"

"I have a plan--it's called We Save Joey!" Yami retorted over her shoulder. She whipped her head back around, her focus never slipping. Her eyes narrowed as the first raindrops began to fall.

Hang on, Joey--I'm on my way!

Author's Notes:

The Ancient Playground is where I like to go to look at the sky. It's right next to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and it seemed an ideal backdrop for Yami and Tristan. It's warm in the summer if you lay on that pyramid.

Anyone in Hirutani's gang who never had a name in the manga received a name of some jerky male I had the misfortune to know for a short while.

Yami-girl knows what to do with guys we don't like…as the next chapter illustrates.