Jiishipping (Arthur Hopkins/Mutou Sugoroku | Arthur Hawkins/Solomon Moto)

. . .

The man certainly could cuss, couldn't he?

Arthur hovered anxiously outside the tent, listening to the string of Japanese obscenities that poured rapid-fire through the canvas. He was only semi-fluent in Japanese, and all he really understood was the occasional clear swear word and complaints about being in pain. Which was probably the only thing the man was saying, but that didn't stop Arthur from trying to painstakingly translate every single thing that the man was saying.

Goodness, this is a mess...

He hadn't expected to find a pharaoh's tomb on his very first archaeological dig. And he certainly hadn't expected to find a half-unconscious man inside.

The head scientist snapped through the tent flaps, his face a burning fireball of anger.

"The nerve—can't believe—what was he doing—"

Arthur jumped as the man's ember eyes fell on him, as though sparks were actually flying and had burnt him.

"Hopkins!" the man bellowed. "You speak Japanese, don't you? Get the hell in there and figure out what the hell is going on."

"Y-yes, sir," Arthur said.

He ducked his head as he scurried past the man, slipping through the tent flaps and into the stuffy tent.

The man was sitting up, although he probably shouldn't be, considering when Arthur had found him he was collapsed on the ground, blood pooling around him in the dust from a bullet wound to the back. He looked livid, his face a bright red and his breath coming in heavy pants that made his shoulders roll up and down with a little too much force.

"What do you want?" the man snapped in Japanese.

Arthur tried not to flinch.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said in his own, fumbling Japanese. "We're all just a little—not understanding—what happened."

The man blinked a few times, still panting for breath. His eyes fluttered half shut and he groaned, his hand twitching to the already blood-stained bandages.

"Why were you in—the coffin room?" Arthur fumbled, not certain what the word for "tomb" in Japanese was.

The man actually snorted.

"Dammit," he swore. His hand tightened on his wound and he let out a heaving sigh. "Fuck."

Then his eyes opened again and he blew out through his lips.

"You the one that pulled me out?" he said, in perfect English.

For a moment, Arthur felt as though he had just been punched in the stomach, all the air rushing out of his lungs.

"You—you can speak English!" he said, feeling a heat of indignation rise to his cheeks. "Why weren't you?"

"Because I'm fucking dying right now, and code-switching is a thing," the man groaned, shifting to a cross legged position. "What the fuck. Where's—where's that box I had?"

"What box?"

"My bag. Did you guys take my bag? Are you the police?"

"N-no, we're not. Your bag is right here, sir. We found you in the tomb when we broke through the door."

The man ignored the rest of his statement and reached over to where Arthur had pointed out his bag. He flipped it open and quickly rummaged around inside. Clearly, whatever he had been worried about was there, because he let out a soft breath and let the bag fall shut. Not before he had pulled out his box of cigarettes and a lighter, however. He pulled one out of the box with his teeth and then shoved the box towards Arthur.

"You want one?" he said.

"I'm afraid I don't smoke, sir," Arthur said, feeling more than a little irritated.

"Give it time. You'll want to. Specially if you get kids."

Arthur pursed his lips irritably.

"I already do," he said stiffly. "Two of them, in fact."

"Two? One little monster's enough—don't know how you do it."

He lit the cigarette before tossing the lighter back on top of his discarded jacket. He took a long drag and then breathed out a light haze of smoke.

"Name's Mutou. Mutou Sugoroku," he said. "You?"

"Arthur Hopkins," Arthur said.

"Hopkins? Haven't I heard that before? You're some bigshot archaeologist, right?"

"I wouldn't know," Arthur said, still feeling a bit miffed about this entire situation. "Might we turn the conversation back to what you were doing in a sealed tomb? With a bullet wound?"

Sugoroku laughed as he waved his cigarette once to knock the ashes onto the ground.

"Crazy story, that," he said, sucking in another drag from his cigarette. "Sure you're up to hear it?"

"I'm sure I have nothing better to do, now that you've thrown this entire dig into disarray."

The man laughed again, and Arthur felt somehow that he was being made fun of. Sugoroku took another prolonged puff of his cigarette, his eyes not leaving Arthur's. When he finally let the cigarette drop from his lips, he grinned. And there was a gleam there—something...strange, in his eyes, something that caused Arthur's chest to tighten up in anticipation of whatever this man was about to say.

As though there were something supernatural involved.

"It's a hell of a story," he said. "Got the time?"

. . .

A/N: I wonder how Arthur and Sugoroku met. I like this idea that Arthur was the one to find Sugoroku after he got shot in that tomb where he found the Millennium Puzzle. I also just wanted an excuse to write young!Sugoroku again because he's a little shit and I love him. Up next is Jeershipping (Valon/Jonouchi).