Chapter Twelve
chittyco: Jonouchi? Just Jonouchi? Okay...
Nikyo: Yes, yes, I know. Seto is not a whore.
The Summer Stars: (snickers) I couldn't resist...and yes, it was a bit disturbing.
setokaibawheeler: You hate when authors are like that? (cries)
Firey Charizard: I'd be happy to do that fanart for you. So kawaii...
Enzya: Yes, well, I try...
mandapandabug: Um...I dunno about another personality...I'm having issues with pronouns as it is, and I'm thinking of giving mou hitori no Seto another name, just to avoid confusion...thanks for your suggestions, though.
Faegirl: I've been duct-taped! Wah! (waves a Jou/Seto flag along with you)
Rosalyn Angel: (giggles) Thank you, finally someone who appreciates Yutou's evil sessyness...yes, he is hot...I'll draw a picture, sometime...and actually, Yutou owns the block. All the apartment buildings and whatnot.
Moonlight: I entranced someone! (does a jig o' joy)
Calico Avengi: (grins innocently at you) It's my sotry, I can do what I want to...(is singing horribly off-pitch)
"So you have no idea where you were?" Jou stirred cream into Seto's coffee with a spoon, adding a rather insane amount of sugar, which he doubted Seto would appreciate, but it seemed that his koi needed something just to stay awake.
Seto sneezed and accepted the cup gratefully. "No."
"Kinda odd, don'tcha think?" Jou flopped down on the couch next to him and the coffee in Seto's cup jumped, finally settling into a spastic set of ripples sloshing wildly at the rim.
"Hn." Seto took a long sip of the sweetened liquid, wincing at the taste. "No clue. You know, not everyone is a sugar addict like you."
"Stop complainin' and make your own coffe, den. Anyways, I think you owe me an explanation, don' you?"
"Expla—" Seto sneezed again "—nation?" he asked, grabbing a tissue from the box in front of him and blowing his nose. "About what?"
"About what's goin' on wit' you." Jou folded his arms over his chest and wished that Seto looked less pathetic when he was sick. It might have been easier to get mad at him for being so damn stubborn. Just as Jou was about to yell at him Seto would give him this look, this sad, abandoned-puppy look that Jou knew was unintentional, but it worked anyways. He couldn't stay mad. "You want me t' call a doctor?"
"I'm fine. And you can't, anyways. You don't speak English."
"Thanks for rubbin' dat in. An' I'm not leavin' you alone until you tell me exactly why we're here and exactly what happened."
"You think that's really an incentive for me to tell you?" Seto gave him a weak half-smile as he sniffled miserably and snuggled into Jou's embrace. "I've never had anyone take care of me when I was sick."
"Really?" Jou eased the brunette's head into his lap and began stroking his hair absently. "Not even Mokuba?"
Seto shrugged, closing his eyes and relaxing with a small, contented sigh. "He always had school."
"Oh. Can you tell me anyways?"
Seto snorted. "Why would I do that?"
"'Cause you feel like bein' nice?" Jou suggested helpfully. Seto laughed.
"I don't want to spoil the mood, pup. I'll tell you tonight, how's that?"
Jou gave a dramatic sigh and leaned back heavily on the couch. "Fiiiine," he relented. "But only if you let me cook for you."
"Dear God."
ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo
Actually, Jou was a good cook. Seto supposed it was from all those years of caring for his father; he was quite talented as far as the culinary arts were concerned. "Damn, pup," he said, pushing himself back from the table. "What the hell are you doing in business? You should have your own restaurant."
Jou blushed. "Thanks," he mumbled, finishing up the last of the salmon he'd made. Seto leaned over on the pretense of grabbing his dirty plate, then kissed him gently on the cheek in what Jou found to be an adorably shy manner. Seto could be so cute sometimes.
"So, you gonna tell me now?" Jou asked as he scrubbed the dishes. Seto flopped down on the couch and flicked on the television, marveling at the bizarre normalcy of it all. Jou, washing dishes in the kitchen (Seto had offered to call a maid and he'd refused) and Seto sitting on the couch watching TV. All they needed was a golden retriever, 2.5 kids, and a white picket fence, and they'd be a perfect all-American family. Okay, so maybe they needed a sex change for Jou, but hey, this was America. Things like that seemed more common here.
"Seto, are you listenin' t' me?" Jou waved the towel he'd been using to dry his hands in front of Seto's face. He ever sounded like a nagging housewife. Seto grinned cheekily at him, and pulled him into his lap.
"Yes, dear," he purred, nuzzling Jou's neck. Jou flushed and pushed him away.
"Stop dat! I'm tryin' t' be serious here! Tell me before I—I—" He flicked the towel threateningly at Seto.
"You'll what? Bludgeon me to death with a washcloth?"
"Seeeetoooo!"
Seto cringed; Jou had a terrible habit of whining just like Mokuba when he wanted something. It was eerie to realize that your boyfriend had the same mannerisms as your little brother.
"Fine, fine," Seto relented. He flicked off the television. "But you have to promise not to hit me with that." He gestured to the cloth still clutched in Jou's fist.
Jou hit him. "Be serious."
"Okay, okay. This is kind of awkward, but I—Jou, I've got split personalities."
Silence.
"You got what?" Jou asked after a minute. His face was blank, Seto couldn't quite tell exactly what his puppy was thinking, so his mouth just kept moving, hoping to delay the explosion as long as possible. He'd been enjoying this so much, enjoying just being with someone who wasn't terrified of him and his reputation; it was a shame to end it over something like this...
"Split personalities. MPD. I know you took psychology classes, so you know what that is."
Jou laughed.
Seto blinked at him. He hadn't been expecting that reaction. Shock, horror maybe, but not amusement, certainly. "Dat's what's been botherin' you?" Jou gasped after a few moments, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Dat's what you been so afraid t' tell me?"
Seto's temper flared and he shoved Jou roughly off his lap. "It's not funny, mutt."
"No, it's not dat," Jou giggled. "You honestly thought I'd care about somet'in like dat? Damn, Seto, I thought my best friend had split personalities until I met Yami. I don' care."
"Really?" Seto tilted his head to the side. This was going better than he'd anticipated. "You mean—it doesn't creep you out?"
"Doesn' exactly get me off, either, but it doesn' matter t' me. I like you jus' da way you are, issues and all."
"But...I mean...it's not like a yami," Seto said. "I mean, Yuugi and Yami are actually different people, and this...it's just me. Another side of me."
"Well, Marik's not a yami either. He jus' got his own body 'cause a dat Rod thing. I don' really undastand all dat magic stuff, but Malik's as crazy as dey come, and he's still my friend."
"I suppose..." Seto wasn't entirely convinced. This wasn't supposed to happen. Jou was supposed to be angry, scared, whatever, but not calm. He shouldn't be taking this so well.
"Have you eva met him? It is a him, right?"
"I...I think so. And no, I haven't. Kind of hard; when he's conscious, I'm not."
Conscious? Jou's brow furrowed and something triggered, a memory of not too long ago; he spent a few moments lost in thought before it clicked. "Afta dat party! When I had t' take you home and you were havin' dat attack! Dat was the otha you!"
"You've met him? What attack?"
"Afta we saw Yutou at your company party thing. You went all creepy and started talkin' like you were about ten years old. Den Aizawa-san said he drugged you so you wouldn' hurt yourself, and I went in dere. I thought it was jus' the drugs, but Aizawa said you shouldn' even be conscious afta dat. I talked to him, Seto."
"Did you? What was he like?"
"He was...scared. Like a little kid. He wouldn' let me touch him. He...he said he was dirty, and ugly, and that dere wasn' any way I could be his boyfriend 'cause I was so pretty." He didn't mention the angel thing, and he wasn't sure why. It was absurd to think of talking with Seto about his other personality's weakness as betraying that child-Seto, but he did, and it seemed unfair. He'd be the child's angel if that's what it took, but it just wasn't right to discuss it with this Seto.
Seto flinched and looked away, only to have Jou force his chin up with gentle fingers. "Is that what they told you?" he asked quietly, his calm amber gaze soothing, and his accent, once again, gone. "That you were ugly, worthless? Do you believe that?"
Seto closed his eyes, ashamed, and nodded miserably. "Yeah."
"Oh, Seto," Jou sighed, pulling his koi's head to his chest. "There's so much you haven't told me...so much pain you won't let me near...it's not true, you know that?"
"What isn't?" Seto mumbled into Jou's shirt.
"You're beautiful. You're so beautiful."
Seto's eyes widened, and he found that he was blinking away tears. He sniffled, firmly telling himself that it was because of his cold, and burrowed further into Jou's chest. Seto broke down and Jou held him while he cried, firm, comforting arms wrapped around him, whispering in his ear, washing away, at least for the time being, everything they'd told him, everything he'd believed for so long...that he was dirty, worthless, of no value to anyone. Silent, anguished sobs shook his powerful frame and he was a child again, running to his mother with a bloody knee so she could make it all better and make him stop hurting.
He did remember his mother. Not well, but enough to sustain him those long, cold nights when he cried and held himself and considered ending it, ending the pain, he could make it look like an accident...but just the memory of her gentle face (she looked like Mokuba, she was so pretty) reminded him that someone had cared, someone had loved him once, and he owed it to her to keep fighting, to stay strong for her and his father and his little brother. For Mokuba.
"Mommy!" A panicked, fearful wail and Natsuko whirled around, skirt fluttering behind her and black hair flying, dashing towards her son.
"Seto! What is it, what's the matter?" The four-year-old's eyes were filled with tears as he gazed up at his mother, hands clasped over his knee and blood leaking out between his fingers.
"I tripped and I fell, mommy, and all this red stuff started coming out. It hurts, fix it!"
Natsuko laughed as she gently pried Seto's fingers away from his knee, expertly wiping away the blood with a handkerchief fished from her purse. "Oh, baby, it's okay. It'll heal."
"But mommy, it hurts..." Seto trailed off, staring intently at his knee marveling at the fact that there was only a raw pink mark where the terrifying crimson fluid had been moments before. It ached a little, but the blood had been the scariest part.
Natsuko swung Seto up onto her hip, being careful that his little feet didn't hit her belly, for fear of disrupting Seto's future baby brother. "Sometimes things hurt, baby. Just get up and keep going, they're never as bad as they seem." She wiped away the tear-tracks on Seto's cheeks with her thumb and kissed the tip of his nose. "You want to feel your little brother kick?" Seto nodded and she set him down, guiding his hand to her stomach. Seto giggled when the baby gave a startled thrash.
"I felt it, mommy! I felt him kick! When will I get to meet him?"
Natsuko smiled at her son and kissed him on the top of his head. "Soon, Seto. Very soon."
Oh, but this time his mother wasn't here; she was dead and gone, and she couldn't have fixed this anyways. He was almost glad she was dead, just so she didn't have to see what had become of her son. This was so much worse than a skinned knee, and Seto didn't know if anyone could fix it, but it seemed that Jou was willing to try. Seto's grip on Jou's shirt tightened as his sobs trailed off into quiet whimpering, and he just felt so safe here, so protected...
"Shh...it's okay, it's alrigh't, I'm here...shhh..." Jou rocked back and forth with Seto curled in his lap as best he could be, running gentle fingers through Seto's hair. "It's alright, baby, it's alright..."
Seto fell asleep in Jou's lap with those words whispered in his ear and echoing in his dreams.
"It's alright, baby..."
For the first time in seven years, Seto didn't wake up screaming.
ooooooooOOOOOOOOooooooo
He hadn't been lying. He was pretty. No. Perhaps that wasn't the right word. Slender, tan, with sun-gold hair and smiling amber eyes, so gentle and happy and calm. Perfect. Beautiful.
But it felt strange to use such feminine words for him. He was seraphic, yes, but there was something about him, in his low, grating laugh and his decidedly masculine habit of leaning over a table to talk to someone, those eyes so fierce and determined that anyone within ten feet was drawn to him, moths to the flame, that defined him as purely, simply, utterly male.
He was so animated. When he was happy he was ecstatic, there was no in-between for him. He was never sad, he was distraught, never upset, he was enraged. Such extreme emotions and such a lovely, expressive face. Perhaps that was why he was so enchanting.
No, this was more than a simple enchantment. He knew himself well, and he recognized the signs. A growing obsession, unable to live without it, without him, without knowing how he tasted, how he felt, how he looked when he was writhing and moaning and gasping, in those few moments when a person was most alive and most human.
Yutou couldn't imagine it. That was his problem. That was everything that made him who he was. He couldn't imagine.
He didn't know, couldn't predict how such a beautiful creature would react to his advances, if he would accept Yutou's rather unorthodox nature. He could envision him as a child, small, skinny and tough, as a teenager, awkward and beautiful and unrefined. He could picture him with his family, even though he didn't know any of them, had never even seen them, but he seemed the protective type, fiercely possessive of those he held dear.
But those visions he wanted the most, of gleaming, sweat-slicked skin, of liquid fire rolling over that lovely flesh, of those nimble, slim fingers twisting and grasping at the bedclothes as he moaned...he couldn't imagine it.
He was so different from Kaiba.
It was the eyes, Yutou decided. The eyes. Windows to the soul, ancient cultures seemed to believe, and Yutou believed it too. He wasn't a superstitious man, but it made sense; eyes were easy to read. What did lying children avoid? Meeting their parents' eyes. What was the most intimate way possible to gaze at someone? Looking deep into their eyes.
Jonouchi (oh, how he wished he knew the blonde's first name!) was no exception to the rule. Every emotion was wild, unbridled, unrestrained and it showed. He had the sort of eyes that laughed when he did, that could sharpen into flint before you could blink and all of a sudden you knew you weren't messing with just anyone.
It had struck something deep inside him when those beautiful honey eyes had met his and glared with such fervour, and such venom, that Yutou had quailed away, had barely managed to choke out whatever clever remark he'd tossed a him. At that moment, when all of the resentment and hatred and unease had penetrated, shook him to the very core, he'd realized how much he needed to know more about the blonde.
He needed to know how something so fiery and passionate and alive had come to care for his broken little dragon. Because Seto's eyes were as dead as he was; cold, dispassionate sheets of diamond, not ice, because that barrier couldn't be melted, couldn't be broken. Yutou knew; he'd been responsible for it, after all.
Did he feel guilty for what he'd done to Kaiba? Sometimes.
Did he regret it? Hell, no.
Kaiba had been too beautiful for his own good. Too naïve, too trusting, too delicate and perfect. He'd been exactly like Jonouchi once, long ago. Yutou remembered the day Gozaborou had brought the child home from the orphanage. Even emaciated and shabbily-dressed, Seto had been striking. The gleaming chestnut hair falling in soft curls over the back of his slim, pale neck, the tender, unmarred skin, the softness of voice and the gentle manner in which he handled his little brother had been too much, too tempting.
And those eyes.
Oh, were they hypnotic. A clear, pristine morning blue, as fresh as dew on grass and just as sparkling. He smiled freely and often, at everything and everyone. To Seto every facet of life was a wonder, something to be studied and remembered and cherished, simply because it was so fleeting. Something about that smile warmed Yutou's heart. It always seemed that Seto was smiling at him, just for him, as if nothing else in the world could matter nearly as much as the moment of joy they shared as they watched a ladybug pick his delicate way across a flower, or a bird nestled snug in her tree with her babies tucked under her wings.
But then he could be so sad, and the stark pain on his face was too much for Yutou to handle. Those eyes brimming with tears, that soothing voice hitched with sobs, it was more than he could bear. Everything hurt him, every death of every creature seemed to Seto as if it was a family member than had died. He cried when he read the reports of children abducted, murdered, of families slaughtered in war-torn countries. Eventually they had to keep the morning paper away from him, because he would often go missing all day only to turn up in a corner of the garden sobbing and huddling over a tear-stained copy of the Domino Times.
It was that sadness, the care and compassion for everyone and everything that finally drove Yutou to do what he did. It wasn't right that a child should have to go through life with that kind of empathy, that ability to feel other's pain. It wasn't natural and it wasn't fair, and in the business world it would get him killed. Literally or figuratively, Yutou didn't care to find out.
But stripping all that away, teaching him that not everyone was as perfect as he...now that was the challenge Yutou had faced. Oh, he'd been ravaged with guilt over breaking something so delicate, but it was worth it to think of the pain he'd spared Seto in the long run. It didn't take more than a few months before Seto stopped talking and refused to let anyone touch him. Yutou was more gentle after that, spending time with the boy outside of bed, and, he supposed, it really was his own fault that part of Seto loved him.
Yes, he'd taken it slowly, shattering his mind little by little, but the end result had been the same. Seto couldn't understand why anyone would want to hurt him, and so he blamed himself, thinking that it was some flaw in his own nature that made people want to take advantage of him. Because his father approved so strongly of Yutou, always making sure to treat him almost as if he, not Seto, were Gozaborou's adopted son, Seto idolized Yutou, worshipped him.
Or at least his other personality did. It was hard to resent the little dragon; he was so innocent, and it was so easy to tear him up, make him cry, and ten minutes later he'd be back in Yutou's arms, begging forgiveness for something he hadn't even done. Yes, it was hard to turn away from that kind of devotion, but Yutou hated him for coming in between him and the real Seto. The angry, cold, bitter man who denied the existence of his own emotions to the point that it was exceedingly unhealthy. He was breathtaking, so perfect, impossible to shatter. He was Yutou's masterpiece, a work of art, and here that little blond mutt was hell-bent on fucking it all up.
He wanted Jonouchi destroyed. He wanted him broken and cruel and ruthless, just like Seto, because then there would be no chance that he could ruin everything Yutou had worked so hard for. He deserved it, for daring to set foot (methaphorically, of course) on Yutou's property. Because Seto was his, and he'd be damned if some punk-ass kid screwed all that up for him.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened and he stared at his own whitening knuckles, gritting his teeth. Calm. Calm down. It wasn't hopeless, not yet. He would break Jonouchi, he would, but who was to say he couldn't have a little fun first?
He was gambling on a short-term memory, hoping that Jonouchi was as much of a trusting airhead as he seemed. He hadn't sense any sort of suspicion from him, and Yutou planned to use that to his advantage. After all, Jonouchi had only seen him once, dressed in a very nice suit, looking clean and perfect and successful.
So he'd thrown on a pair of torn jeans and a rumpled black collared shirt, mussed his hair and donned a flashy pair of sunglasses that he would never wear normally. Combat-boot-clad feet rested on the gas pedal. He held a cigarette clenched between his teeth and he knew he looked good. Gold rings adorned the impatient fingers tapping on the steering wheel as a slow, eerie smile stole across his handsome face and he waited.
He'd seen the blonde enter the convenience store. It was quite a ways away from his hotel room, but it was the only store for blocks that was run and owned by Japanese-speaking people. It was probably difficult to be so far away from everything familiar, even his own language, but he took it well. Wandering down the street, humming happily to himself, wrapped in a warm jacket and scarf, reading directions off of a scrap of paper.
Yutou knew why he was pleased. He flicked an ash from the end of his cigarette and took another long drag on it, savouring the taste of the tobacco before he exhaled it in a rush of smoke. The blonde owed his happiness all to him. After all, it had been his decision to give Seto back. That was undeniably the reason that Jonouchi walked with the proverbial spring in his step. Yutou's lip curled in disgust; the mutt really was in love, wasn't he?
Oh, but this wasn't the time to be debating possible feelings Jonouchi had for his little dragon. Because here he came, the golden-haired Adonis himself, practically glowing as he clutched his purchases to his chest. Yutou edge the red convertible closer to the curb. "Hey."
Jonouchi paused, an adorable confusion flitting across his face. "Do I know you?"
His voice was alluring, so rich and sultry, and...Yutou mentally shook himself. Bad hormones. "Jonouchi-san?"
"Yes, um, who're you?"
"Oh, thank God! I've been looking for you since...well, you'd better get in the car."
Jonouchi edged away from him, the naiveté vanishing in favour of a suspicious frown. So he wasn't as innocent as he seemed. Interesting. "I'm sorry, I've neva met you..."
"I'm one of Kaiba-sama's employees. He sent me to get you—there's been an accident."
"An accident?" Jonouchi's bag crashed to the ground and he didn't bother retrieving it. "Is Seto alright?"
Hn, so the little bitch is allowed to call him Seto? Silly dragon, what were you thinking? "He's in the hospital," Yutou replied, trying to sound as earnest and concerned as possible. "He—the doctors think he tried to kill himself. I'm sorry to be the one that breaks it to you, but he won't speak. He told the doctors he wanted to see you, and then...he just stopped. He just lies there, staring at the ceiling, and we tried the hotel room, but you weren't there."
"I—I told Seto I was goin' t' take a walk—shit, he tried to kill himself? Why? What happened? I mean—is he alright?" He was worried, scared; as soon as Yutou had said that, pain had flashed in his eyes, warping that pretty, pretty face.
Jonouchi was practically draped over the car door, with a panicked grip on Yutou's shoulder. "He slit his wrists, but he'll be okay. He lost a lot of blood, and the doctors want to keep him overnight to observe him. Get in the car. I'll take you to him."
"What did you say your name was?" Jonouchi asked, voice shaking, clearly only speaking for the sake of making noise to fill the silence. He slid into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt.
"Koyanagi Masato. I'm one of Kaiba-sama's bodyguards."
Jonouchi gave a noise that could have been a whimper. He curled up in his seat and Yutou cast him a bewildered sidelong look, wondering exactly what he was doing. "Um...are you alright?"
Jonouchi lifted his head and tears were streaming down his cheeks his golden eyes clouded over with a tangible agony. He scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. "I'm sorry, it's jus'...I neva thought he'd do somethin' like dis...are you sure he's okay?"
"He's alive, if that's what you mean. If you don't mind my asking, what's your relationship with Kaiba-sama?"
"Hunh? Oh, he's a...friend a' mine. Known him since primary school an' all dat." Jonouchi dropped his head back down, burying his face in his knees. "I thought he was gettin' better...he asked fer me?"
"Mm," Yutou affirmed. "He told us to find you."
oooooooOOOOOoooooo
Horror, shock, pain, Jou didn't know how to describe it. Nothing made any sense anymore, not the mindless chattering of the man driving the car—Koyanagi?—because his Seto was hurt, he was in pain and Jou hadn't been there. Hadn't helped, hadn't been able to stop him. Oh, he'd been so afraid that Seto would try something like this...it was clear that everything wasn't right with him, clear that even his dispassionate façade was fading and that Seto was scared, confused...and alone. Jonouchi had left him on his own, to try to fill the day-long gap in his memory, hoping that he would come back for his walk and that Seto would have remembered where he'd been.
An hour and a half. He'd only been gone an hour and a half. Perhaps Seto had remembered, and the memory was too much for him. What could have happened while he was gone? Where had he been? It was fairly obvious that he hadn't been on the streets all night; he'd gone out with only a light jacket to cover himself, and he would have gotten much more than a simple cold, being out in the freezing February air for that long. Who could have given him shelter?
The car wasn't moving anymore, and Jonouchi glanced up, confused. "Where—"The question died on his lips.
This wasn't a hospital. It wasn't even close. It was an apartment building, a fancy, overexpensive building, complete with a doorman in uniform. Seto wasn't here, where were they, why on Earth would anyone bring a suicidal to an apartment building?
They wouldn't.
Damn him, damn him! He should have known better, should have suspected, but he'd been so worried about Seto, co concerned for his koi's well-being that he hadn't stopped to think long enough to realize how off this was. Why would Seto have an American employee with a Japanese name and a flawless accent? Why would a bodyguard have such an expensive, obtrusive car, especially if he was supposed to be discreet about his profession?
And above all, why had he never heard of Koyanagi Masato?
Koyanagi shot him a grin and removed his sunglasses, shaking his hair back into some sort of order. Jonouchi knew that face, he knew that cocky, arrogant grin, he'd seen it before, but where...?
Seto had frozen, the glass slipping from his nerveless fingers. Jou reached out to grab it before it smashed on the floor, and managed to slosh the alcohol all over his hands. Wiping them on a napkin he grabbed from the buffet table, he straightened up. "Seto, what's wrong?"
"It's ... him ... "
"Him?" Jou peered at the man who'd presumably sent Seto the drink. "Who is dat?" He grabbed Seto's arm, startled to find that he was shaking fiercely. "Seto, talk t' me. Tell me who he is."
"Y—Yutou—"
"Yutou?"
The lazy smile widened. "Hello, pretty."
And then something was pressed over his nose and mouth, a handkerchief soaked in something rank and chemical...Chloroform! A haze clouded his senses and he fought it, struggling to keep his eyes open as his traitorous body sagged into Yutou's waiting arms. He grabbed the older man's sleeve. "Damn...you...where...are...we...?" His tongue was thick, unresponsive in his mouth.
The last words he heard before he slid into sleep were, "We're home, pretty one."
Home?
Shit.
(A/N: Yeah...a little insight into Yutou's royally fucked-up logic...a bit about why he did the things he did, because I want him to be more than just the creepy rapist in this story. I think it makes much more sense when they have a reason for it.
Jou: Well, great. What now?
Kaida: Now we make mandapandabug very, very happy.
Yutou: (smirks and wraps his arms around Jou) Heh..
Jou: (punches him) Get da hell offa me, you perv!)