Chapter Four: Cry of the Valkyries

"Niisan…" Mokuba sobbed. "Niisan, my Niisan…"

"What about 'im?" someone else asked, his tone etched with slang, harboring the appeal of an accent born and raised in the Bronx.

"He's not gettin' up, not bouncin' back like he always does."

"So?"

" 'So?' " squawked the boy on the floor, "What if he's dead?"

A long, heavy sigh resounded, exposing a careless mannerism of the owner. "He's not dead," explained the other male, sounding as if he were rolling his eyes and being sarcastic at the same time. "he's just waitin' for th' referee ta throw him back in da game."

"But he's bleeding!" protested the child.

"He'll be fine."

"But, but--"

Calmly, the New York drawl repeated, "He'll be fine. Just fine."

"How do you know that?"

" 'Cuz he's breathin'." stated the Yankee coolly, almost matter-of-factly.

Blowing out a gust of relief, the undeveloped voice burbled up once more. In a meek, timid way, Mokuba inquired, "Really?"

"See for yourself." replied the youngster's amigo, remaining Zen garden tranquil under the circumstances.

Briefly, there was an intermission of sound. At last, the middle schooler spoke, affirming the diagnosis to be true. "You're right!" he declared, excitement flaring in his words like a firecracker, "He is! His chest is moving!"

Snorting, his buddy said, "Told ya he'd come around."

"So he'll really be okay?"

"What'd I tell ya, man?"

The answer came out more like an hesitant guess than a solidly known fact. "That he's alright?"

"Right on."

Again, the worried boy vocalized his fears, forcing his friend to clap his teeth together impatiently. "Honestly?"

"Dude, it's like I keep sayin'," the Bronx twang responded, somewhat annoyed."the man's gonna snap outta this. Sooner or later, he'll wake up an' everythin'll be like it was before. Trust me."

"Word of honor?"

"Word of honor." pledged the flunky of English class, pronouncing his syllables gradually, practically taking forever to form a half-decent statement. Adding on to his previous avowal to seal the deal, he swore, "Ya got my word now, Mokuba. I always keep my promises, just like a Wheeler should-Joey Wheeler, ta be exact."

/I've become so numb/

For some reason, the name of my prime nemesis snapped me back to reality. Jarred into a state of unreal consciousness, I worked my jaw, moving my lips until I was capable of constructing literate dialogue. First, I felt a buzz in my throat, then the familiar vibration of speech rattling my teeth. Finally, my tongue was coaxed to finish the last steps of communication. It rose from the dark crevice like a cobra, lifting slowly to the roof of its basket, ready to strike the unwanted guest. True to the manner of a serpent's flickering fork of flesh, I lashed out with a toxic phrase, biting Joey as hard as I could.

/I can't feel you there/

"Get the fuck out of my house." I ordered, my brash authority conflicting with drunken slurring.

My sibling interjected with untainted innocence, an attribute that I normally loved and adored, but hated to witness during situations like these. "Why would you make him do that?" he asked, introducing a towering amount of guilt over my head.

Lifting my upper lip in a snarl, I snapped, "Because I don't allow child predators inside of this house."

"Told ya he'd be alright." Wheeler threw in rudely, his smart-aleck commentary fueling a reserve of fire I had burning just for him.

"Nobody asked for your medical opinion, Doctor Dumbass." I countered, eying the blond frigidly, hoping to puncture his dumb grin with insults.

Evidently, my devious plan didn't have the desired affect. He went on smiling at me, a huge ear-to-ear smirk that I dreamed about tearing off his face in my spare moments. As I glared at him, he gave me a sugary sweet look, one I despised seeing more than his usually dorky expression. I could see his big mouth opening, a pitfall of grammar and intelligence expanding, trying to speak to me, and there was nothing I could do to shut him up. If I wasn't in such a deplorable location, I would have already jerked him up by his flimsy strands while kicking his ass over my gated property. Oh, what an entertaining sight that is in my mind, this loser strung across the barbs of the fence, amber eyes bulging like a cartoon who had an anvil dropped on him, a point of the metal accessory going up his ass as he howled in harmony with the surrounding dogs of the neighborhood.

"Lovely." I murmured to myself, attracting the attention of a dear friend and foe, "Wouldn't that be just lovely."

"What is it?" the village idiot queried, his features sketched in deranged alignment.

/I've become so tired/

Shaking my head, I placed both palms on the tiles, hoisting my body into a sitting position. Mokuba didn't support me, namely because I have admonished his past streaks of helpfulness. I figured that if I could run a company, be an honor roll student, invent new technology to obliterate my competition, and rear a minor, I wasn't in any dire need of assistance. He retreated from me until he was beside my rival, indigo orbs tracking every movement made, torn between racing to give me a hand and obeying my requests to mind his own business. Thankfully, he stayed where he was, providing me ample space to do as I pleased. The only one who didn't understand my stubbornness was Joey, who bounded towards me so clumsily that I believed he was a Saint Bernard in his last lifetime.

"Here," he said, offering me an outstretched limb, "lemme just--"

Instinctively, I smacked his hand away, eager to see him hurt by the gesture. Much to my amazement, he shrugged off the callous action, chalking the encounter up as an everyday reaction to failed friendliness. Making certain that he would never dare to venture near me again, I threw at him, "Go take your fleas for a walk and leave me the hell alone. There's a Petsmart three blocks from here that treats infestations like yours, but I doubt that you have the money to pay for the vaccination."

/so much more aware/

Joey took my blatant hints, recoiling from where I was, assuming his earlier lackadaisical pose. Unable to resist the sadistic urge, I mirrored his conventional simper, cocking my lips at such a sharp angle that he flinched. My triumph lasted a precious few seconds before the ghetto freak burst my balloon, a bright, beautiful bubble that leaked helium tanks full of pride into the air.

Turning to my sibling, he inquired dryly, "And this is supposed ta be my thanks for bringin' ya home t'day?" Frowning playfully, he pretended to be upset while motioning to me with his thumb.

/I'm becoming this/

If there was a bastard who knew how to push my buttons more than him, I haven't met the person yet. Rage poured over my face, exploding inside of my chest like a nuclear weapon fixed on destruction. Past the human summit of anger, I yelled, "Who gave you the divine right to take my brother anywhere?"

Butting heads with me, the adversary of a bull charged at me, "Who gives ya th' right ta abandon him at school?"

"What are you talking about?" I cried. "I've never done such a thing!"

He arched a brow doubtfully. "Never?" he asked, his tone as vexing and unnerving as ever.

"Never." I stated proudly, holding my head high, enunciating my words as firmly as possible.

/all I want to do/

Laughter erupted in the room, a repugnant sound that intensified the ambiance of our mini brawl. I couldn't stand being snickered at, much less having some airhead son of a bitch laughing at me--outright laughing at me--in my own home. Has the dung beetle completely lost his mind? Nobody does that to me. No one has the influence to commit an act like that in front of me here. Doing that as boldly as he had done, virtually in my face, I reserved the opportunity to kill him. I wanted to take him to a swamp teeming with locusts and yellow fever and malaria, have him catch about twenty different diseases, beat him at my leisure, then pull his corpse into a slimy grave. Anything, I would have done anything to silence him.

/Is be more like me/

Directed by an enticing impulse to murder him, I growled, "What's your problem?"

"You're so funny sometimes." he answered nonchalantly, taking my expression of fury for granted.

"Meaning…?

"Ya think you're so goddamned perfect or somethin' but ya don't even know the damned date."

"It's the fourteenth, a Sunday."

"Nope, wrong answer, lose one turn." Joey remarked, obviously enjoying himself.

"Yes, it is." I shot back once more, gritting my teeth together, internally wondering where his cheeky, asinine thoughts came from. "It's December fourteenth."

"Nu-uh, still a bit off."

Losing control of my composure, I shouted at him, "The only one who's off is you, Joey! Don't you ever know when to shut your trap?"

"No," confessed the blond canine, "but it's not like you do, either."

"Where do you get the balls to say something like that to me?"

He produced a careless shrug. "I dunno, let's ask him." he suggested, moving his head to the left, the same direction as-

Mokuba switched his weight from one leg to the other restlessly. "What're ya tryin' ta prove, Jou?" he questioned nervously, shifting his gaze from Wheeler's visage then to mine.

"Yes," I snapped impatiently, "what the hell are you trying to prove?"

"That you don't know the date."

"So freakin' what? What's so special about the damned date?"

Ignoring me, he poked my sibling with his elbow and asked, "Where were ya 'dis mornin'?"

Tearing his gaze from me, he shrugged indifferently. "Not any place fun."

"And...?" Joey pressed. For someone turning sixteen, the teenager had as much determination and will power as I did, but I'd never admit to complimenting him. There were so many pack rats adding to his ego, little friends that boosted his confidence that made me decide against complimenting him. He does not need anymore praise--especially not from me.

"And I don't like comin' home an' talking about it."

"Why?"

I narrowed my eyes at my downcast relative. "Mokuba?" I called, perturbed by his lackluster responses. "What's going on?"

Once more, he raised a shoulder and dropped it back down, indicating that he would rather choose the Fifth Amendment over speaking.

An insane idea popped into my head. What if the morbid mutt had done something awful to Mokuba? There were so many criminal charges that could be brought against people these days, like theft and assault--he was, after all, a gang banger once upon a time--and rape and child molestation--

/and be less like you/

Jerking my head towards Wheeler, I snarled viciously, "What did you do to him, Joey?" As he jumped back, I rose from the sticky surface I was against, steadying myself with a hand on the wall. Some dried blood had attached itself to my temple, but I didn't wipe it off. The crimson river gave me a more savage, animalistic look, something that worked out to my benefit in predicaments like these.

God help you if you let any sick notions become a reality. I thought furiously. Pray for mercy on your sorry excuse for a soul if you did something, just one single thing to hurt him.

Face-to-face with the enemy, I held my ground, doing my best to stay regal and sophisticated under the mounting stress levels. His hazel eyes returned my icy glare, reminding me of the spell of wizard's fire clashing with a sorcerer's arctic magic. Flames melted into frozen tundra, burning the chilling animosity with the cold clarity of confidence. In the heat of a potential battle, my classmate hooked some hair behind an ear, folded his arms, and devised his first strategy of war.

"I didn't do nothin' ta 'im." Joey claimed. "Nothin' at all." Pinning me to the floor with his unwavering gaze, he revealed, "But there did happen ta be a few jerks at 'is school that made life kinda miserable. Idn't that right, Mokuba?" he inquired, breaking eye contact with me to look at my brother. "Weren't there some assholes givin' ya a hard time t'day?"

The boy beside him didn't utter a word. He just stood stock still by the blond, chewing his lower lip, studying the patterns of thread on a nearby rug.

"That's impossible" I stated flatly, speaking for a sibling who had mysteriously become mute. "There's no class on weekends."

Wheeler snickered mockingly. "Ya still don't get it, do ya?"

"Get what?"

"It's a new week, but you're goin' on about a day that's come and gone. I don't know what kinda universe you're livin' in, but it's Monday, the last set a days 'fore Christmas break."

I blinked. Most of the color had drained out of my face, leaving me with a multitude of frost bitten flesh. "No..." I whispered, more to myself than the other two there. "Oh, Christ Almighty, no..."

Adding insult to injury, Wheeler nodded his head. "Yeah, baby. Ya better believe it. Ya better believe that ya kid sib over here got his ass beat on waitin' for ya ta pick him up."

If nothing else got through to my plastic warped brain, that piece of troubling information did. Stunned, I immediately switched my attention to Mokuba, only to see him turn away from me.

Unsure of how to explore this touchy subject, I began by choosing my words carefully. "Mokuba?" I queried, wishing he would stop hiding and just face the music. "Is this true?"

When he folded to the tiles, I realized the truth of what was said. Bringing his knees up to his chest, the little male hugged himself with his arms, showing me a scalp full of slate colored hair.

Before I could console him, he spouted, "There were too many of 'em! At least four or five! They wanted the jacket I was wearin', but I wouldn't give it up, so--"

/I've become so numb/

Fresh tears poured onto his cheeks, sliding across a wicked cut on the right side of his face. Noticing, the mark, I cupped my fingers around his chin, tilting his visage until I could get a bird's eye view of him. Needless to say, I was mortified by what I saw. A purplish line trailed from one nostril to his ear, an open abrasion that had traces of debris in it. Crystal waterfalls plummeted into the wound, washing some dirt away, displaying what innocence had to endure when it was in a bad place at an even worse time.

/I can't feel you there/

"Who did this?" I demanded harshly, "Who did this to you?"

Alarmed, he shook his head. "I--I don't know--"

From somewhere behind us, the Chihuahua barked, "I didn't see their faces, but I know who they are by the colors they flaunt."

"Which would be?"

"Red an' black. From some other high school, the one that sits 'cross the street from where Mokuba attends. They usually go by--"

"Rintama." I spat.

"Yep. They're known for wreakin' havoc from Baker's Boulevard all th' way ta th' downtown area. Got a pretty wide scope ta deal with." Jou explained, acting like a travel guide, pointing out interesting facts for tourists to remember. Sliding a hand into his pocket, he appeared thoughtful for a moment, gazing at the ceiling with a finger on his jaw. "Well, that's mostly right," he said with a hint of a grin, " 'til they waltz into Domino High's turf, that is."

"If anyone would know, it would be you." I assured him. No harm was meant by the observation, but Wheeler immediately bristled, his posture so stiff that I thought he might break like brittle China if I tapped him on the shoulder. "Look," I said, rolling my eyes dramatically, "I didn't mean anything by it."

That seemed to make him relax. "Good, 'cuz I'd hate for ya ta have another run-in with those guys. They're major--I mean total bitches-- if ya catch my drift."

Out of nowhere, Mokuba's panic-stricken tone piped up. "There's no way around that! They said they'd bring their knives with them they next time the see me!"

Turning his head, I forced my sibling to look me in the eyes. "There won't be a next time." I told him. "This won't happen again. Ever."

"I wouldn't be so sure there." warned Wheeler, lines of worry creasing his brow, his hazel orbs dancing with concern. "They're not the kinda boys that know what bein' civilized means. Man, I'd be surprised if they knew what the word meant." he jested. It wasn't a bad line to vocalize on another occasion, but now clearly wasn't good for comedy hour. Seeing the seriousness of the situation, he coughed. "Sorry," he apologized, "I didn't mean ta make light a this, but ya can't just bowl through their grounds an' expect them to give ya respect. That's not the way of a gang. 'Specially not Rintama's."

Brushing a clump of mud from Mokuba's gash, I gave the stupid teen a piece of my mind. "I'll handle this myself, thank-you."

His expression changed from cynical to frustrated. Briskly, he stole up close to me, placing a palm on my arm while attempting to make me face him. "Their leader's an asshole, Kaiba! I've been with Rintama before--hell, I've even ran with them in junior high! There's no way you're gonna be able ta pull this off without gettin' ya teeth knocked down ya throat!" Upset that nothing he was saying was entering into my mind, he almost screamed, "Damnit, think about what you're doin'! Just think about what you're doin' and what you're gettin' yourself into, Seto!"

Anger scorched my blood, the liquid becoming as hot as butter frying on a skillet, threatening to burst through my veins if I didn't do something about the blond quickly. Silently, I clamped my fingers around the Toy Poodle's collar, yanked him across the living room, and, mirroring my fantasies, hauled him into the outside world without so much as a caustic reply. He landed on the concrete walkway flat on his ass, so hard and violently that I had to wonder how that felt like on those bony bun bags of his. Permitting a satisfied smirk to reappear on my lips, I glanced at his pathetic form again. With this small achievement under my belt, I extended my arm towards the door, intending to slam it in his face.

"The perfect end to a not-so-perfect day." I said softly, that same snide smile illuminating my features. "I couldn't ask for anything more."

Seconds away from closing the space between me and him, Joey bounced up, throwing his arms forward just as I had the barrier between our lives half-way shut. Mildly taken aback by his strength, I pressed my body against the wooden frame, only to have him push me back.

"I'll call security." I threatened, fighting to remove him from my property. "Don't tempt me, I really will--"

"That's fine with me, go ahead an' do it." he challenged. "I don't give a damn what punk comes to take me away, I'm not goin' down without landin' a blow on 'im."

"Trying to get more brownie points on your police record?" I inquired frostily.

"Nah, I'm just here ta make sure Mokuba don't become a brownie point for Rintama."

"He's my responsibility, and I can handle everything without you interfering in our lives."

"Hirutani's not a man ya can pay off, Kaiba!" Jou roared, his emotions taking a sad toll on him. "Don't fuck yourself over like this!"

Throwing my head and shoulders back, I ceased to participate in the power struggle and stood defiantly before Wheeler, lapsing into my passable corporate personality. "If you have something personal to settle with your street buddy, go take care of it and stop bothering me--"

"We're not friends; we've never been close--"

"Maybe if you get down on your knees and stick your paws up, he'll toss you a treat." I suggested coldly. "Just make sure whatever you're sucking on doesn't get rammed too far down your throat."

Unwilling to listen to anymore of his experiences with thugs, I slammed the door on him. Outside, I could hear him beating on the mansion's entrance, yelling at the top of his lungs, ordering me to give him audience.

I slid my head from side to side, a nice, easy motion that didn't add to my sluggishness. Too late, loser, I thought acerbically. you had your shot. You got to tell me off in my own house, so you should feel proud. If you know what's good for you, you'll keep that gossiping nose out of places it doesn't belong.

Spotting Mokuba by the stairs, I winced as he held his hand up to his face. I could tell the laceration was painful for him. No matter if it was or wasn't, he turned the valves to his tears off, rocking himself on his bottom in an attempt to remain calm and quiet. It was working. Cringing at the image of my brother nursing himself alone, I found myself being pulled towards him, only to have a single phrase bolt me to the carpet.

/I'm tired of being what you want me to be/

Joey's screaming.

Whipping my sight to the door, he yelled at me through the heavy panel of Redwood, asking me something that no one else had ever had the nerve to.

"What the fuck's wrong with you, Kaiba? Just what in the fuck is wrong with you?"

I opened my mouth to answer him, but put a zipper on it when I realized that he might not hear what I had to say. If I had the chance to respond, what would I tell him? That I was perfectly sane for wanting to round up a bunch of notorious crooks? That I was just fine, despite the minor detail that I had my calendar wires crossed, forgot to bring Mokuba home, and left him to get hurt by Rintama? This wasn't going without mentioning that I had missed--no, blatantly skipped--class myself, screwed an afternoon's worth of company plans, and, and--

What is wrong with me? I grilled myself. Really, what the hell is wrong with me?

Unable to arrive at a reasonable excuse, I glanced at my relative. Indigo spheres were glazed, spooked by the memory of Rintama's initiation games, staring at the puddle of murky fluid I left. Even though his lips were sound proof, I could read his mind. I pictured a message board spiraling around his brain, hovering in front of his eyes, tormenting his logic at every junction in his head.

What's wrong, Big Brother? he desperately wanted to ask, the question swooping over his body, imitating a falcon hunting for prey. What's wrong?

I--I don't know...I just don't know.

/I've become so numb/

Waving a white flag above my door, I admitted defeat to my dark counterpart, the voice that informed me that no matter where I was, no matter how hard I tried, I'd tumble into its catastrophic clutches. Regardless of who or what I was aspiring to be, the dreaded dragon of my nightmares stalks my residence, isolating me in the most secluded chamber of my mansion, willing me to fall victim to the cry of the valkyries.

/I'm tired of being what you want me to be/