Disclaimer: YGO GX and its characters do not belong to me.
Summary: I am Curry Kamen!
Notes: This is a short Kabayama piece set just before episode sixty three. Bits and pieces of his background are fictional, which is understandable since you only properly see him for one episode. See? He does get less screen-time than Misawa! Oh, and it seems I score first Kabayama fic. Umm, whoot? Updated from the last version.
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Curry Worries
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Kabayama sighed as he trundled out of one of the many abandoned rooms at Ra Yellow. Yet again, he was alone. He didn't mind his students spending time outdoors; he just wished they'd come and visit him once in a while. All they came for now was food. That was all they ever seemed to want, morning, noon and night. He was a sad, lonely man who just wanted some love from his children. Was one visit a week too much to ask for?
He loved children – it was one of the reasons he'd given up his art job in the city and applied for the post at the Academia. Laughter brought him pleasure, whilst tears pained the lowest depths of his heart. By teaching art, he could not only make people happy but pass something on to the next generation.
He had been there since the beginning, from when Misawa had arrived all the way through to Chronos becoming vice principle and Kenzan's entry to the school. Yet, in spite of this, no one visited him. He went unnoticed whilst everyone talked Daitokuji and his cat or laughed about Chronos's eccentricity. He, Kabayama, was the last player picked to join a baseball team – the one nobody wanted.
Kabayama walked down the corridor in a blue haze. Opening a set of double doors, he gazed into the dining hall. He had been seated at the head of the table many months ago and still no one noticed his presence. He closed the doors with a sigh. Why was it nice guys always finished last?
There had to be something he could do. All he wanted was for his students to come home, where they belonged. Ra Yellow was their home, not the crusty old shack that housed the lowest rank of Duel Academia. Daitokuji was missing; all that remained was Pharaoh. If his children remained over there, they would become idle. Ra Yellow had a better education and lifestyle compared to Osiris Red, so why to stay in a place where they could not better themselves?
Kabayama cried as he headed down to the kitchens. He clenched them shut and raised his hands to his head. He had to think of something.
Soon enough, he was cooking up a serving of curry. The chicken in the pan fizzled, the sauce popping to show that it was almost ready. Turning around, his eyes fell on the brown paper bag that lay abandoned on the desk.
Something inside him twitched; Kabayama ignored it and went back to his cooking.
Minutes passed, and no students came. They were all at Osiris Red, cavorting with the enemy; the traitors. Kabayama shook his head and reached for a silver ladle; they weren't traitors. He just wasn't being forceful enough.
Of course you're not being forceful. You should go over there and drag them back here - by force, if necessary.
"Yes?" Kabayama turned around, ladle in hand. "Oh my…"
Nobody was there. All that existed was the silence, the table and the brown paper bag. For the briefest of moments, he thought about wearing it – his students would not notice him walking amongst them and he would get them back, one way or the other.
Or maybe not.
It was a waste of time. Surely they wouldn't fall for the old bag-over-the-head routine? He was Kabayama, the leader of Ra Yellow. He could not walk around with a paper bag on his head. No, he needed a cape to go with it, a nice, big cloak that would catch the wind dramatically.
And a weapon - every great superhero needed a weapon with which he could confront the forces of evil.
Kabayama laughed weakly. The idea was preposterous. He could not walk around like that; he would be the laughing stock of the Academia. People would point and laugh once the secret came out, and he would be left alone, again.
He had to admit, the thought of being a superhero was tempting. Everyone would want to come back to Ra Yellow. His students would return, he would be happy and the Osiris Red thieves would starve. All would be well.
But for Kabayama, there was a problem. Every good superhero had a name; a name that inspired awe in their friends and fear in their foes. If he chose the wrong name… Well, he'd be back at the start. He needed something good, something catchy, something to burn itself into the memory of all who heard it.
Curry.
It flew through the air on brown wings, leaving the scent of spiced chicken in its wake. The creature swirled in a loop before disappearing through the open doors, as if it had been sent to deliver support.
He could do it. He would do it. He would get his students back. They would all come home and Osiris Red would regret the day they messed with him.
"I shall not fail," Kabayama grabbed the bag from where it was resting on the table, brought it down over his head and thrust his ladle into the air, "for I am Curry Kamen!"
The kitchen disappeared, replaced by a wall of cheap brown paper.
Kabayama let out a sigh.
Perhaps he should have cut out a pair of eyes.