One Shot

By: Akira Asakura

Genre: Angst/ Romance

Rating: T for language, probably more around 11+.

Summary: You have one shot to make an impression and to make it right. He was sure his shot had missed the hoop by a mile. Faint SxS and possible one-shot. Heh, a pun.

A/N:
My friend Kiyoshi Shiro pulled me into this, so for anyone who just may dislike my joining of the SxS section, you can blame Kiy. With several hints, notes of how her favorite SS authoresses were leaving to make RoyAi (muahaha, yes, Setine and Hakubaikou-chan have been sucked into RoyAi), and several stories pushed in my direction to read (I.E. Coffee Girl, some of Setine's, and obviously Hakubaikou-chan's), not to mention a faint, lingering notion to read, I've infected the SxS fandom with my attempt in making a good fiction! So, now you may read after my insane ramblings. Please review and if you'd like me to continue, do say so.

Disclaimer: Hell if I ever even wanted to own Yu-Gi-Oh! (Well, maybe for the money), the whole story would be upside down.

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Kaiba Seto believed that you have one shot to make a first impression with few ways to make it right and billions more to make it absolutely wrong, something that may have actually surpassed his fortune. He could assure himself that he'd found one of the latter. Aim, shoot, miss, crash, and burn… He was such of a pessimistic one, was he not? And only the Lord knew why he should think such of the world.

But truly, you must wonder by now why he was so sure his shot had missed the hoop by a –Long, long, long- mile. It was because he knew that for the moment after Jounouchi Shizuka, sister of the mutt, had looked him in the eyes and pleaded for Bakura's health to be aided, he had looked horrified. There was no recoil on his part, but the look would send one into a recoil of their own. Why would such a cold, corporate official, so trained in dismissive behavior, lose his cool, even if only for that fraction of a second that only he –Hopefully, only- knew of? For that determination, the politeness, the sheer honesty he swore he saw in her eyes was awe-stirring. He'd expected less of Jounouchi Katsuya's sister. No one gave him that respect. Repeat it, NO ONE. It was shocking that anyone would even try to look into his eyes, much less try to give him respect. He was sure that she did not mean it. Who would after all? She was teasing him, tampering with his mind, trying to make him believe that she knew not of his odd "weakness". He hated her. Right there he told himself that. After all, why would anyone treat this business mogul –Surely, they just call me a bastard when I'm not around- with such respect, especially from her- Her brother had just screamed out that I was a bastard- of all people? Had he not planted hate in her as well?

Shizuka noted the expression, an angered yet fearful expression of shock, -So someone did notice. Damn it all! - and gave a hint of questioning. They silently acknowledged their neutrality to each other and both recovered to their past expressions. Remember, their moment, yes theirs, had lasted only but, well, a mere moment. She blinked at him. Oh, yes, a reply… So he told them what he'd kept from them originally. …Wait, why am I even playing to her whim? He glared back at her, the one who'd terrified him, who'd found something in him few could even begin to grasp, who was now looking at him questioningly, again. So with a swish of his coat, he continued on his "merry way" to his room.

That was where he began to question himself. "What in Hell is wrong with me? And why- how, is that- that bitch causing it?" He gritted his teeth, remembering her expression in the instance before his terror. He shook his head angrily, trembling slightly. He hadn't even bothered to turn on a light, and he found himself slumped in a corner beside the window. Moonlight filtered faintly through thin curtains and left a trail across his foot. He scoffed, oddly, and removed his limb from the light. He hated trails. He hated following. He wanted to lead. But he'd let her lead. She'd led the short moment of recovery and he hated that. He did not follow. He was Kaiba Seto of Kaiba Corp., not some nameless drone in a crowd, another boy shocked speechless by a woman's beauty. He was higher than that. He was high enough to kill that woman in a snap of a finger. He was… well, he was him and no one, read it boldly, NO ONE led him in anything.

"Damn," was all he could utter, before finally letting himself shrink into the shadows, now shaking..? Yes, he, Kaiba Seto, was shaking. It was a terrifying sight for any who had beliefs. "What happened in that single moment? What changed everything I ever made myself?" Her, she did… something… She happened… She saw past the front and into the back. She took one moment of oddity and squeezed it clean, like a hungry beat, another old man in a suit calling the shots, taking all they can get. But she's- she's different. She didn't mean it against me… right? She couldn't have. She did it with grace, with precision. She did it with efficiency to… hide it… She tried to hide anything going on for me. She meant it to find me… But was I even lost? Lost, heh, what a childish term it is. Me, lost? As if. Getting lost is for elementary children in grocery stores that are bigger than their thought. I'm not lost. –But you are. - I am not. I am Kaiba Seto, here and now, in a blimp of my making with people of my choosing in my tournament. –Always a control freak, you'll never learn. - Learn what? –Beyond that shell you built, beyond your wall of content, learn how to use things beyond logic. - And that will send me straight to the poor house, again. I promised… never, ever again. –What are you so afraid of? - Nothing at all, Kaiba Seto has no fear. –What a phony. - It made me a fortune. –And it stole your soul. - Oh, this is that "listen to the presence of God"-shit, isn't it? –No, it's that "Listen to your heart"-shit Kaiba-san. - Heart…? I got rid of the metaphorical years ago. –You just hid it. You have one. - I doubt that. –Well if you'd listen, you'd hear it! If you'd listen, you'd hear it screaming the shit out of it at you! If you'd listen… you'd realize that she struck a cord in your heart. She made a connection. You refused to return the frequency. - Hell if I care. –Well you sure as Hell do. This is part of you. You're ly8ing to yourself. Face it. You've lost yourself. You're noting but a lost eighteen- year- old in a big, scary world. You're hople-.-

Lights slowly faded on. "Shut the lights." The command came instinctively and the action was made. "Oh, and be sure that I don't have to make unnecessary conflict or contact with the cheerleaders anymore." He noted to himself that a mental therapist –Not a psychiatrist, no insanity here- would help.

"Whatever," came his brother's call, leaving the room. "You and your infatuations-."

Infatuation? Ridiculous, it is no infatuation. And he laid back against the wall, suddenly realizing how loud his heartbeat was. He found an eerie calm in the air and trembled. As he began to let his thoughts sink in and realized that he'd merely been arguing with himself, he began breaking into a full shake.

-End-