Chapter Eighteen

Someday, I'll have time to do my review responses! Not today, however,,,ooh, but January 2nd is my birthday!Wooh!

"And in other news today, several folders full of photographs were anonymously delivered to several news networks early this morning. After contacting said networks, it was determined that they were, in face, copies of the same photographs. All are rather explicit in subject matter, and appear to be of Kaiba Seto, world's youngest multibillionaire. Nothing is known about the origin of these photographs, save for the attached notes—Hirasaki, zoom in on this—"

Hirasaki did, and the screen blurred for a second before it refocused. Scrawled across the paper in bright red ink was the character for 'whore.' Seto gave a strangled moan and clasped his hand self-consciously over his stomach.

"As of yet, Kaiba Corp has made no official statement, nor have we heard from Kaiba-san. Quite a shocking revelation, eh Koushiro?"

Koushiro shook his head at his fellow newscaster. "I can't imagine this is good business for Kaiba Corp. In fact, stock has fallen—"

"This has been running all day?" Seto whispered, gripping the edge of the couch to keep himself upright. "Papers, too?" Otogi tossed a newspaper on the coffee table in front of Seto and the CEO flinched away at what he saw—himself, curled up on his side on a red silk-clad bed, completely naked, shooting the camera a coy, sultry look from beneath mascara-dark eyelashes. "Fuck."

"Yeah, and it's out on the Internet, too," Mokuba said, eyes glued to his laptop as he tapped away on the keyboard. "Except these aren't censored," he sighed. "Seto, what do we do?"

"Rip Yutou's throat out?" Jou suggested helpfully. When the other three glared at him, he threw up his hands in self-defense. "I thought it sounded pretty logical."

"I would have thought he'd use 'em for blackmail," Mokuba said. "Not this. This doesn't even make sense; what could be possibly gain by ruining Seto's reputation? Even Yutou's not that crazy."

"It's a last-ditch effort," Otogi muttered, flipping though the paper. "He's desperate. He knows he can't get Seto back, so he's going to ruin him. Break him, once and for all. Bastard."

"We have to have a press conference. Release a statement. If I don't do something, we'll be broke by the end of the week." Seto scrubbed his hands through his hair, growling in frustration. "What do I say? What do I tell them?"

"I-I don't know, nii-sama," Mokuba sighed, absentmindedly twirling a lock of jet-black hair, a habit he'd picked up from Otogi. "I mean, it's pretty obvious those pictures haven't been Photoshopped…"

They all sat in stupefied silence for a good ten minutes before Seto sat bolt upright, eyes wide. "I've got it," he marveled. "Why didn't I see it before?"

"Got what?" Mokuba asked. "What're you going to do?"

Seto grinned coldly. "I'm going to do exactly what Yutou thinks I won't," he hissed.

"Hunh?" Jou blinked at his koi. "What's that?"

"I'm going to tell them the truth."

ooooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooooo

"I dunno, Seto, It doesn' seem like a good plan t' me. You really wanna go on national TV an' tell all of Japan what happened t' you?"

No, no he didn't. He'd much prefer to leap out of his office window than to confess to the entire nation, and he'd probably do so if he didn't have the sneaking suspicions that a new channel somewhere had already bought the rights to the coverage of his death. The media had plagued him since he'd taken over the company, apparently intrigued by his stepfather's abrupt 'suicide' and Seto's own rags-to-riches story, coupled with the fact that Seto absolutely refused to do interviews. He was an enigma, untouchable, and the media had interpreted him as some sort of mysterious, dashing, rich, romantic pretty-boy idol. Actually, the reason he refused was that he was afraid something like this would come up, some question about his childhood that he wouldn't be able to answer without giving everything away.

And now he was going to do exactly what he'd been avoiding since he was sixteen.

"I have to," he said wearily. "I can't have the public thinking I'm some sort of child whore or something. My PR advisors think it's a good idea."

"They're shootin' for sympathy, you know that, dontcha?" Jou rested a hand on his koi's shoulder and Seto covered it with his own fingers. "You don' even want my pity, but you're gonna have them runnin' bad reenactment of your life on those crappy women's networks for years to come."

Seto sighed. "I know. But…maybe sympathy is better than outright disgust. I didn't do any of it willingly. I know that and you know that, but the public? They see what they want to see, and they want to see someone crash and burn."

"It won' be you. You're doin' the right thing, Seto. Maybe we can get Yutou arrested once an' fer all, ne?" Jou wound his arms loosely around Seto's neck. "I'm behind you, you know that?"

Seto twisted around and kissed him on the nose. "I know. Thank you."

"You don' need t' keep thankin' me. S'what I'm here for."

Seto smiled weakly at him and Jou buried his face in the warmth of the side of his neck. "I love you, you know that? Not matter what happens, billionaire or not, I still love you. Always will."

"I love you too."

oooooooOOOOOOOOooooooo

"How do I fix this?"

"Don't think you can."

Jou sighed and took a drag on his cigarette. Mind you, he wasn't a nicotine addict. He never bought his own cigarettes, and he hadn't smoked in almost a year. But when he was really stressed, the aptly-named 'cancer sticks' tended to calm him down. Weed worked too, but Jou had had enough of illegal drugs to last a lifetime during his gang days. "Yeah, I know." He spread his cards out in front of him, flashing Honda a triumphant smile. "Royal flush."

"Shit," Honda growled good-naturedly. "You're gonna own my bike by the time we're done."

"Nah. Can't ride it as well as you. Be a shame to take away the only thing you're good at." He held out his hand. "Now pay up, Honda-chaaaan."

Honda grumbled and fished in his pocket for a crumpled thousand-yen bill. "It's nice to see you again, but do you hafta clean me outta house an home every time you're in a bad mood?"

"I'm not in a bad mood," Jou protested, exhaling a cloud of smoke and watching it spiral up towards the ceiling. "Just thinkin'. Is it so wrong for me to wanna spend time with my best friend?"

"When your other option is spending time with a sexy lil' thing like Kaiba? Yeah, just a little." Jou glared at him and he laughed. "Hey, just 'cause I'm dating a chick doesn't mean I've gone blind. He is pretty cute."

"Yeah, he is, isn't he?" Jou smiled wistfully. "Damn cute."

"So, back to this media thing," Honda said, shuffling the cards. "When's he supposed to make the statement?"

"Thursday," Jou said glumly. "You think it's a good idea?"

"I wouldn't have the guts to do it." Honda shrugged and dealt the cards. "Kaiba's smart. He knows what he's doing. Trust him for once."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jou stubbed out the remains of his cigarette in the ashtray. "Trust him for once?"

"Well, you know. You kinda tend to try to take care of everyone. Kaiba's a big boy, Jou. You gotta let him walk on his own."

"I do not," Jou said indignantly. He shuffled through his hand, glaring at the cards as if they'd mortally offended him.

After a few moments Jou spoke up. "Hey, Honda?"

"Yeah?"

"D'you think I try too hard t' make people happy? I mean in a bad way, like I don't take care of myself or somethin'?"

Honda snorted. " 'Course you do. That's what makes you Jou. Self-sacrificing to a fault."

"Why didn't you eva tell me?"

"I thought you knew."

"How was I supposed t' know?" Jou was getting irritated; he liked hearing this from Honda about as much as he did from Seto. Less, maybe, 'cause he wasn't dating Honda.

Honda shrugged. "Thought it was kinda obvious. I mean, how many weeks did you spend in Duelist Kingdom, just to get the chance to save Shizuka? And then you threw yourself into whatever cause Yami was fighting for, even thought you never had any responsibility for it whatsoever, not to mention the time you willingly went back and joined that gang that threatened to beat us up... You have a kind of hero-thing going on. Ask anyone."

Jou held out his hand for another cigarette. "I do not."

"Lemme guess," Honda said with an easy grin, offering the pack and a lighter to Jou. "Seto said somethin' about you always tryin' to protect him from everything?"

Jou snorted, exhaling a cloud of smoke through his nostrils. "Shut up and play the game so I can take your money."

ooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooooo

"Kaiba-san, are you sure about this?" Seto's PR advisor looked nervous, mopping his forehead with an already-damp handkerchief. Needless to say, this did nothing to ease the knots of panic twisting in the brunette's stomach, but he maintained his outward calm, even managing a sneering smile. He was well-trained.

"Of course I'm sure. Trust me. Have I ever failed you before?"

"N-no, of course not, sir. But you've always avoided the media, I just want to be sure that you'll be able to handle yourself out there."

"I'm Kaiba Seto. I can handle it."

"But Aizawa-san—"

"Is an idiot. I'm not going to have a panic attack on live TV. I'll be fine."

"Sir, your health—"

"My health is none of your concern." Seto turned to face his mirror, adjusting his demure blue silk tie. He was dressed in his finest Armani suit, all black with aforementioned tie being the only bit of colour on him. He looked every inch the ruthless businessman, what with his broad shoulders, harsh glare and his six-foot-eight stature. He was more than determined, he was downright terrifying, and the poor advisor could only hope that none of Kaiba's younger fans would be watching this press conference. He was about to burst into tears when those cold blue eyes turned on him, and he'd been working with Seto since the boy was sixteen.

"I trust you, Kaiba-san. I just want what's best for you and the company."

"Not necessarily in that order," Seto snapped. "Get out of my sight."

"Y-yes sir," the advisor stammered, hurrying out of Seto's office and shutting the door gently, lest he irritate his boss further. He passed a pretty blonde boy lounging by the door and the kid greeted him with a cocky half-wave, pushing himself away from the wall. "I wouldn't go in there, if I were you," the advisor warned. "He's in one of his moods. He won't see you."

"Oh, he'll see me," the blonde assured him with a casual grin. Amber eyes glinted mischievously, and he held out his hand. "I'm Jonouchi Katsuya. Seto's lover. Pleased t' meetcha."

"N-Nakano," the advisor said, taking Jou's hand. Oh, this was bad, bad, bad. Obviously Kaiba was trying to ruin his own business, what other explanation could there be? Sleeping with a man, and not just any man, but the co-owner of the Kame empire…Kaiba-san never did anything halfway, did he? Nakano shuddered at the thought of having to deal with all those distraught teenage girls.

"You sure got some weird people workin' for ya," Jou said, closing the door behind him. "That sweaty little man just ran away cryin'."

"He does that," Seto said flatly, jerking a brush through his hair for approximately the five hundredth time since he'd sat down. "He'll be fine."

Jou wound his arms loosely around Seto's shoulders, nuzzling the back of his neck gently. "You okay?" It was a stupid question and he knew it; Seto was anything but. He'd been pacing all day, swearing at anyone who got in his way, even Mokuba. Of course, Mokuba was more than able to defend himself now; he'd hurled a rather expensive vase at his dear brother's head, followed closely by a colourful volley of curses in three different languages. At least Seto knew his expensive schooling was paying off.

"Fine," Seto growled. "Abso-fucking-lutely fine."

"Bullshit," Jou said cheerfully, continuing his quiet exploration of Seto's neck and shoulders. He nudged the collar of Seto's shirt aside with his nose and began a concentrated assault on his koi's sensitive skin, biting and licking alternately, never enough to leave a mark. The last thing Seto needed was for someone to point out a massive hickey on his neck during a conference about the CEO's rather questionable sex life.

So he kept it small, humming deep in his throat because he knew Seto could feel the gentle vibrations. He pulled Seto's earlobe into his mouth, his tongue curling around it slowly as he smiled to himself. Seto was trying to hold back, he could tell, but his breathing hitched every so often and every muscle in his lean body had suddenly tensed to the point where it seemed he might break.

"Mutt…" Seto groaned and Jou grinned. He loved doing this to Seto, paying him back for all the times he'd left the blonde flustered and hot in favour of work, or possibly food. Seto had never shown such an interest in eating before, and Jou was sure it was just an excuse to torture him. Of course, Seto couldn't do anything about it. Not now. Not with his conference in less than ten minutes. Jou would pay for it when the reporters had left, sure, but for now, Seto was his to play with.

Needless to say he was rather shocked when Seto whirled around and grabbed him by the back of his head, crushing their mouth together in an altogether domineering manner. He nipped harshly at Jou's lower lip until the blonde, more out of shock than anything, complied and allowed Seto access to that honeyed interior. Seto was rarely this demanding, only when he was supremely stressed out, and Jou knew better than to fight, at least if he wanted to emerge from this encounter with his tongue completely intact.

"Wish me luck," Seto purred, his lips so close to Jou's ear that the blonde shivered at every hot breath.

"Luck," Jou breathed heavily, eyes half-lidded and dark with desire. His cheeks were flushed, hair mussed where Seto had grabbed him, lips pink and slightly swollen from Seto's attack.

A quick, chaste kiss on the forehead and Seto was gone in a swirl of Armani, silk and chestnut hair, leaving Jou sitting on his office floor, quite dazed.

"Bastard," the blonde whispered, trying to tug his clothes back into order.

oooooooOOOOOOOOOooooo

Seto couldn't remember being unhappier. This was stupid, a bad idea, he should just turn around and leave now. Before things got any worse. How can things get worse? he snarled at himself, clenching his fists so hard that perfectly-manicured nails dug into pale flesh. He was about to go on live TV, about to admit to all of Japan that he'd been abused and molested and…his stomach twisted and he slammed his palm against the wall for support, suddenly weak. He was going to be sick, he was going to throw up, oh God he didn't want to do this…he couldn't stand the shame, the embarrassment.

He could see it now; the pitying mothers, clucking their tongues sympathetically and exchanging a "Poor boy," every time he drove past them, the averted, awkward glances from teenagers that had once hero-worshipped him, the complete blissful oblivion of children too young to know what had happened to him. Someday though, they'd come across an old news clipping, an article in a magazine, gossip from a friend, a battered cassette tape of today's interview and they'd gasp in horror as they realized how sick and twisted he really was, how tainted, how unstable, how…

God damnit, no. He couldn't afford to do this right now, everything he'd worked for, everything he'd spent the last seven years striving for would be a waste, all for nothing. He had to be calm, cool, collected. He had to be Kaiba. Not Seto, he couldn't be weak. Kaiba. Strong. Cold. Angry.

M-mou hitori no boku?

Oh, hell. This was NOT what he needed right now. He had to be alert, careful, not distracted by some damn voice in his head. What? he snapped, hoping he could clear whatever it was up quickly, before he had to go onstage. What the hell do you want?

S-sorry. I j-just th-thought you sh-should know that M-master's here—

What? Where? Seto's heart literally skipped a beat and he whirled around, startled blue meeting calm hazel. Seto took an automatic step backward like an animal backed into a corner, tensing his muscles and baring his teeth, although he was sure he looked ridiculous acting like this while wearing an Armani suit. Yutou grinned, shoved his hands casually into his pockets and watched Seto much like a hawk would watch its prey, waiting for him to make the first move. Waiting for him to run.

Well damnit, Seto was done with running. If he was facing up to his fears, he was facing all of them. Starting here and now with this smug sonofabitch—

He stared at his clenched fist, dazed, as if trying to ascertain that it was indeed his hand that had struck at Yutou. Yes, it was his, it was his pale skin and elegant fingers and short, sharp fingernails and the watch Mokuba had bought him for his eighteenth birthday, even though Seto had insisted that he didn't want anything, because he hated his birthdays anyways.

He'd darted forward and swung a harsh roundhouse punch to Yutou's jaw, smirking in triumph when it connected with a solid thud. Yutou had staggered back, clutching the side of his face, his gray-chocolate-green eyes narrowing in anger. "You little bitch," Yutou seethed. "Is that any way to greet me?"

"Figured it would be less messy than a gun," Seto snapped back. "What the hell are you doing here? Haven't you done enough?"

Yutou checked his fingers to make sure he wasn't bleeding, then glared at the icy-eyed CEO. "Not nearly, little dragon."

"Why are you—"

"I just wanted to see how you'd handle this." Yutou brushed himself off calmly, tugging his suit jacket into order. "You know, I would have thought you'd listen when I told you that you were one of my investments. I meant every word, Seto-kun."

"Don't you dare call me by my first name. And what do you mean, investment?"

"I didn't become a shareholder to get closer to you. Don't flatter yourself, Kaiba-kun. I put a considerable amount of money into your company, and I've given you more media attention than you could every get, holding those stupid gaming tournaments. You should be thanking me."

Seto could only stare at him. "You're amazing," he said tonelessly. "You actually believe that, don't you? You humiliated me in front of the entire nation, you've put my company in more danger than it's ever been in, and you think you did me a favor?" It was astounding how skewed Yutou's priorities were…had he no sense of decency?

"I don't see why you should be humiliated," Yutou replied nonchalantly, inspecting his immaculately-groomed fingernails for any trace of dirt. "You did what you had to. Everyone makes sacrifices for fame and fortune, Kaiba-kun. You should be proud of what you've done."

"Proud?" Seto laughed quietly, madly, and he took a step forwards. Perhaps it was his dead, unfeeling eyes, perhaps the predatory stance, but Yutou stepped back, almost as if he were…afraid? Seto took another experimental step and, sure enough, Yutou backed away. "You think I should be proud of what I've done?" They continued this same dance until Yutou was pressed against the wall and Seto was so close he could feel every halting breath the elder man took. Yutou seemed nervous; he was pale and shaking, and Seto had never felt more in control than he did now. He slammed his palms against the wall on either side of the blonde's head, enjoying the convulsive flinch Yutou gave. "I should be proud of being a whore? That's what I am to you, a whore, right? That's what you've been telling me since I was fourteen."

"I—" Yutou shuddered and turned his head away. Damn it, those eyes, so angry and accusing and…he hadn't done anything wrong, he had no reason to feel so guilty! No reason at all! He'd saved Seto, saved him from a lifetime of pain and suffering. It was his own fault for being so sensitive, so pretty, so perfect. Yutou had done nothing wrong.

Seto grinned. Oh, he loved this, he loved the raw power coursing through his veins, the adrenaline, the way Yutou jerked away from him and just looked so damn scared…he could see why Yutou had done what he did…

God.

Oh God, no.

Yutou watched, confused, as horror spread over Seto's face and he pulled back, clutching his hands to his chest. He couldn't be like that, he couldn't! He'd always read that abused children tend to carry on the trend, but he'd never believed it. How could anyone who lived through that do the same thing to another person? How could they live with themselves, making another human being go through what they did? It didn't seem possible, and even if it was, h was the exception, wasn't he? He'd never turn out like that, he'd never understand why someone could become like that. And, so it seemed, now he knew.

It was a sense of power he'd never had. He'd never been the aggressor, never been in control, never seen Yutou afraid of him, rather than the other way around. And he liked it, damn him, he liked it. Yutou had done more than screw with his mind. He'd done more than poison Seto's dreams, wreck his childhood, reduce him to a pathetic, frightened little scrap of what he could have been. Yutou had bred a spark of hatred so deep that he ran every risk of repeating his Master's mistakes. He hadn't broken Seto.

He'd made Seto just like him.

Seto gave a choked sob and collapsed to his knees, retching, as his stomach tried to expel what it didn't have. He'd been so nervous he hadn't eaten in at least two days, and he regretted it. Bile burned his throat, tears coursed down his cheeks as he dry-heaved, body convulsing in pain. He thought he screamed, but he wasn't sure; it was hard to hear over the pounding of his heart.

There were cool hand on either side of his head, holding his hair away from his face, and a calm voice was whispering something he couldn't understand. Slowly, the spasms stopped, his stomach returned to its proper place and he could breathe again. He panted heavily, his body shaking with fine trembles, as if he'd just run a marathon. He'd never been so exhausted in his life.

"Are you alright?" The hands moved to his forehead, almost as if checking for fever. Seto nodded weakly before his brain registered exactly who was talking to him. He wrenched away from Yutou's gentle grasp, eyes wide.

"Don't look at me like that. I couldn't very well just leave you there."

"Why not?" Seto whispered. "It'd probably be the kindest thing you've ever done for me."

"Tch," Yutou replied with an arrogant jerk of his head. "So ungrateful. Go make your speech, Kaiba-kun. I'm interested in seeing how you perform under pressure."

"It's how I was made," Seto hissed. "You taught me well."

"I can only hope," Yutou tossed back at him with a dismissive flutter of his hand.

Seto pushed himself to his feet with some difficulty, fighting to regain control over his body, which insisted on shivering and just generally being weak. Kaiba, not Seto. Kaiba, not Seto. Cold, ruthless, cruel. He forced himself to stand straight, as regally as he could manage, and wiped the fear-sweat from his face with a linen handkerchief. "Yutou," he said, once the man was halfway down the hall. Yutou stopped, although he didn't turn around. "Who raped you?"

It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw Yutou flinch, heard his breath hitch in his chest. Whatever nerve he's struck, whatever reaction he'd evoked, it was gone as quickly as it had come. "Don't be ridiculous, little dragon," Yutou said stiffly. "No one raped me."

And then he was gone, almost as if he wanted to get away from Kaiba as quickly as possible. Kaiba smiled wryly, folding his arms over his chest. Score one for him. He was right, he knew it. After all, Yutou hadn't been born a rapist. It only made sense.

And God only knew how little it would take to break him down completely.

"Kaiba-san? You're on." Nanashi poked her head out of the conference room, grinning at him. He stared cooly back and straightened his tie, taking a deep breath and exhaling. Nanashi pinched him as he passed her, and she received a withering glare. "Jonouchi-san's here," she whispered. "Good luck."

"Thank you," Kaiba replied in a tone that managed to be incredibly rude and barely respectful at the same time. Oh yes, Kaiba was back, just as callous as ever, and ready to take on the reporters. He was going to tear them apart.

(A/N: No, Kaiba and Seto aren't two different personalities, they're just two facets of Seto. He thinks of himself as Seto when he's being all sweet and sensitive, or angsty and scared…basically Seto's the feeling side of him. Kaiba's the businessman, cold and unfeeling, and the reason I switched to calling him Kaiba in the end was that I wanted to express how he shut himself down for the conference. Meh, it makes more sense in my head. )

(A/N: And yeah, Yutou's screwed up. I'm just trying to offer a reason why he's screwed up, since people aren't born that insane.)