April 29, 1915
The morning of Saturday, April 29th, dawned a bit colder than the rather oppressive heat of the previous day. The sun rose at exactly 5:49 am, and with it rose Seto Kaiba, who lay for a bit in his narrow hotel bed, listening to the faint sounds of silence coming from outside the drafty window of his hotel room.
Today is the day. The day I have to sell Domino Town on Duel Monsters—the game, the ills in the town, the game as remedy, the cards, the devices…
This is my only shot with this damned strange little town.
He rolled over, disliking the slight feeling of nausea curdling in his belly. It was to be expected; even the best were susceptible to stage fright after all.
The bed croaked in protest as Seto sat up and walked across the small room, the bottoms of his feet glancing off the cold linoleum a bit unpleasantly.
After failing most spectacularly at catching the attentions of the art teacher-curator Ishizu Ishtar—my god, what a failure indeed, thought Seto wryly—Seto had attempted to brush it off his chest, for there would always be other opportunities to see if he couldn't woo that (unfortunately attractive) woman to suit his own purposes—to dazzle her, throw her off the scent of the scam…
It temporarily rolled off his back like water. He had wound his way back to the town square, where Yugi had been sitting quietly waiting for him to return, smoking a cigarette and looking rather impish.
"Well, well, well," he'd begun between drags of smoke that extended nearly as high as his point hair, "looks like someone was rather right about that Ishizu Ishtar, now, wasn't I?"
Seto had merely rolled his eyes and swiped his suitcase from where it had rested. "Timing, Yugi, is everything in our—sorry, my line of work. Something you wouldn't understand." The last bit had come out as a bit of a hiss, his own annoyance at the situation escaping into his voice.
"Uh-huh." Yugi had smiled knowingly, taken another puff on his glowing cigarette, and stood up to face Seto. "Shall we?"
They'd made it to the small hotel in no time. The rooms were cheap but fair, Yugi had explained, going straight into a rather authoritative hotel manager mode. One dollar a night, toilet on the hall, linoleum flooring with a few rugs, desk, bed, breakfast four days a week—entirely fair, yes, entirely reasonable for the price and the location.
Seto had not bothered to make an argument against Yugi's increasingly chipper yet firm voice; he'd stayed in nicer places in actual cities, of course, places with maid service and tastefully decorated lobbies and rooms. Yet he merely accepted the key with a show of good grace and allowed Yugi to guide him to his narrow second-floor room.
"I'll come by to eat with you around seven, all right?" Yugi had suggested, eyes practically crinkling with excitement.
As he had explained it, Saturday mornings served as Domino Town's large-scale meeting days, where all town officials and representatives, including the Mayor and his wife, gathered the interested, civic-minded citizens of Domino Town and their families (usually several hundred of the town's thousand people, in all) in the high school gymnasium to discuss and present the agenda for the coming weeks.
Domino Town's annual founding festival was coming up at the tail end of May, Yugi had explained, and so in a way, Seto's unplanned arrival into town could not have been better wrought. There would be a carnival, a picnic, a town dance—all those so-called charming, homey small-town niceties.
Seto had nearly scoffed at the idea of a place like Domino Town having that small-town nicety. "Sure, sounds great, if you want everyone to stand around and act peculiarly towards one another all the time. You Domino townies must put on great parties."
Yugi had merely clucked, knowing in his heart that Seto had indeed hit the nail on the head—Domino Town's annual celebration was usually more fun on paper than in actuality. Still, who was Yugi Moto without a little hope for the future?
"So, what you're saying is that it's quite imperative for me to present my case at this big meeting, to figure out a way for me to include Duel Monsters, perhaps a planned tournament of sorts, as part of these annual celebrations." Seto had stroked his chin and begun pacing around the tiny, narrow room while Yugi perched on the bed.
"I mean, sure—if you want a way in, I can't think of a better way than this…"
Part of Yugi had begun to feel only a mite, a mite, he would have sworn, a mite awful about this whole affair, but he swallowed down those feelings with little more effort than it took to digest a particularly sticky lump of sugar.
After all, he was the closest thing Seto had to a friend. Wasn't he?
After Yugi had made his excuses and turned in for the night (for, being manager, he occupied a small suite of rooms on the first floor) Seto had proceeded to withdraw one of his few nice possessions from his suitcase—an old fountain pen he'd bought several years back in… was it New York City?—and begun to make out his plan, in his typical scrawl, with the pen held rather uncomfortable against that bump his fourth finger (for who would have taught a young orphan proper penmanship?), on a sheet of hotel stationery.
The code, a simple language of letter-number-pictograph combinations, was something he'd developed, he reminisced rather ruefully, with Mokuba, for them to pass messages if a foster parent was particularly ill-tempered that day, or if one of the other boys in the home was looking for a fight.
Seto Kaiba was nothing if not a methodical, organized con man—let it be said.
As the air around him and outside his window grew silent, he had taken that as his cue to prepare for sleep. He'd disrobed, washed a bit, and laid out his suit and shirt very carefully on top of the desk—he only had two suits, and it wouldn't do to let one of them wrinkle in a most unbecoming manner.
He'd checked in his suitcase for his deck—a rather miserable series of cards, cobbled together by sheer luck and trickery over the years, and gingerly used his Duel Device to turn over a few cards, one by one, from the top of his deck until he held the requisite six in his hand.
He'd found it hard to get comfortable on that narrow bed, but Seto Kaiba was used to sleeping in worse places—concrete floors, dirt, straw bed, in a hammock with four other boys, all jostling and snoring…
He'd rehearsed what he would say nearly a hundred times, whispering so as not to be heard, but still calculating each and every cadence in his voice at the opportune moments—here a little worry, here a little soothing remedy, there grandiose confidence.
The utter quiet of the room, for someone who was so used to other people's tears, to night-breathing wafting around his ears, was rather eerie, but he preferred not to think about it.
Within an hour of ceasing he'd dozed off, with half-remembered visions of his brother, like the last time he'd seen him all those years ago but better—happy, well-fed, mingled with the disappearing silhouette of a woman walking away from him under the glow of gaslights, her spine held erect, her ears not heeding his calls.
Seto took in the early morning Domino Town streets, the cobbled roads all peachy-yellow-brown and glistening, the low-hanging fog playing with the top floors of some of the buildings across the street, and the clang-clang of a horse and cart moseying along—the milkman making his deliveries to the establishments along the block, the hotel included.
At least the milk in this hotel will be fresh, Seto thought with a feeling of mild surprise. Clearly, this is the luxury treatment.
He washed, dressed carefully in his dark suit—navy blue with a pale blue button-down, light red tie, and placed the straw boater at a rather jaunty angle.
The town clock chimed seven. Within an instant of the seventh ring, a knock sounded at the door.
"Shall we?" Yugi was positively burbling with excitement, as was his wont. As Seto recalled from his acquaintance with the man, Yugi Moto had always been too damned much of a morning person.
Not that Seto disliked mornings; after all, he woke up at sunrise most mornings. But he couldn't necessarily wake up a bundle of fuzziness and joy, as he supposed Yugi did.
That easy charm, that confidence in interpersonal relationships that was so vital to his success in his line of work—that required coffee in the morning, first and foremost.
Ishizu Ishtar woke up in her double bed that nearly took up the whole of her small bedroom. She squinted against the bright gray light streaming in through the parted linen curtains.
The seven-o-clock bells droned on distantly as she snuggled deeper into the warmth, wishing she could, against all logic, wrap herself up in her old comforter and sink back into the rather marvelous dream she'd been sunken into so deeply. There'd been a painting, she half-remembered as the dream slipped from her fingers like oil from water, a beautiful painting that she had created, of something, who knows what, that had made Marik smile…
Her smile faded, her blood chilled slightly, as she remembered the feel of hot breath on her neck in that dream, of a lean, handsome face and predatory blue eyes watching, calculating her every move…
The stranger with the suitcase.
She sat up abruptly, spine perfectly straight, dark hair still in its neat braid. It's Saturday… I ought to go to the town meeting this week. Perhaps I'll learn something about the plans for the celebration—that's at least something to look forward to, isn't it?
Ishizu sighed, feeling as she so often did like a martyr in some Italian painting, one of the gruesome ones all flayed and bloody, and shuffled over to Marik's room.
Marik ought to attend the town meeting too… perhaps if he had something to look forward to, as well?
She knocked gently. A shuffling noise commenced, interrupted by a tiny cry of pain; it sounded like Marik had stubbed his toe on his way to crack open the door.
His hair, from what Ishizu could see of it, was impossibly tousled, his lavender eyes half-open—from exhaustion, or something a bit darker… a bit sadder?
She didn't quite know with Marik these days.
Should she be surprised?
"Yes, sister?"
"I thought I'd make us some breakfast now. Is toast and oatmeal all right?" she asked softly, hanging like a specter in the threshold between the hallway and his room, which, from what Ishizu could make out, was dimly lit, curtains drawn shut to push away everything outside the walls.
"Sure."
So he was still on a low, then, Ishizu thought grimly. Did Serenity's offer do nothing to help him feel a bit better?
She pulled the door shut and walked down the rickety old staircase, through the parlor where Serenity's drawings of the Virgin Mary still lay on the table, untouched after their much more enjoyable detour.
Serenity's mood had lifted considerably after she'd been allowed to use the treasured colored pencils, and had sketched what appeared to be several compositions all within one sheet of paper: a meadow filled with flowers using the greens, yellows, and umber, with a gray-blue sky above, looming with ominous looking-clouds.
In the middle ground she'd taken up the red and done something a bit wild and chaotic and abstract. Ishizu hadn't known Serenity had had something like that in her, but she was rather pleased.
At any rate, if going by the drawing was any proper indication, Serenity Crawford felt just as muddled and confused, torn as she was in different directions and forced, in a way, to serve different masters, as anyone Ishizu had ever met.
Or perhaps she was reading too much into things, she allowed, as she busied herself with preparing breakfast. The art-historian's problem of engaging too much, of looking for meaning where there wasn't necessarily any. She was a child, after all—a student, Ishizu reminded herself as the kettle with her tea whistled on the old wrought-iron stove.
Soon enough Marik sat across from her, turning his spoon round and round within the bowl of oatmeal while Ishizu watched, her worry growing more and more the less likely it looked like Marik was going to eat the bloody oatmeal.
She sipped at her tea, the minty taste rolling over her tongue and giving her a bit more energy than she'd had before, and cleared her throat. "Marik," she began firmly, but gently, "today we are going to the Domino Town meeting. Please put on your best pants—the gray ones, I think—with the white shirt and the brown suspenders."
She expected him to rise up in a rage, overturn the table, to wheedle, protest, plead—anything, something, please, God, just anything but the disappointing ––
"Okay, sister."
––without any feeling, without any emotion or judgment of the instructions she had given him.
It nearly broke her heart.
Serenity Crawford was awakened by a brisk, rattling knock on her door. "Serenity!" came her mother's impatient, shrill voice, "today is the town meeting! Up, up, up!"
Serenity blinked once, then twice, then gently propped herself up on her elbows, allowing herself to yawn in response.
The door handle turned and in barged her mother, fully dressed in a pale blue jacket and long skirt and her ever-present fine feathered hat, the brown and gold and white soft appendages bristling and rustling as if they were moving of their own accord.
She crossed the room briskly, heeled shoes clacking against the wooden floorboards, and with one large, sweeping motion threw open the pale pink lace curtains that had kept out the bright overcast sky.
Serenity lifted her hand to shield her eyes as they fought to adjust, her room, with all its childhood trappings of dolls and pinks and purples coming into sharp focus. Despite the fact that she was sixteen, after all, and nearly properly a woman, hers was still the room of a little girl.
"I'm awake, Mother. What time is it?" she asked around another yawn, gulping down the air like it was bracing, needed cold water.
"It's just past seven." Cecelia backed away from the window and turned to face her daughter where the girl sat in her canopied bed, swaddled like an infant in her quilts and sheets. Serenity's hair was most annoyingly askew, and it seemed as though a bit of spittle had dried on her cheek during the night. Cecelia shook her head slightly, as if to ward off a particularly negative thought about her daughter's bearing, and crossed over to the ornate gilded wardrobe that sat in the corner.
Her movements typically grandiose and over-graceful, she threw open the door and hastily but precisely selected a pale green dress, perfect for spring, and carried it over to where Serenity still sat in bed.
"I think you should wear this." Her mother's voice was gentle, almost soothing. Was she actually asking for approval, or was she attempting to catch this fly with honey rather than vinegar?
The dress itself was not awful; Serenity liked the color, the puffed sleeves, the silky texture. Yet what made her hang her head a bit and sigh in response was the little-girl waistline of the dress, with the narrowest point of the dress nipping in just under the bust and flowing outwards to obscure her waist.
Something to make her look like a child and not a woman, a woman of sixteen.
Yet she couldn't exactly bring that up to her mother as a point of contention, who stood over her brandishing the dress, eyes wide with impatience and fraying good cheer.
"It's lovely, Mother," Serenity responded quietly, trying to inject a little good humor into her voice. After all, it was a new day. The town meeting was a bit dull, but nothing she couldn't handle.
Maybe I'll see him…? After the previous night's utter fiasco, she dared not hope.
After they'd eaten their breakfast, courtesy of the hotel (Yugi had had what seemed like half the menu, Seto had picked at his toast and drunk several cups of pathetically watery coffee, for which Yugi apologized most profusely), the two had set off towards the high school gym. They were soon engulfed within the sea of Domino Town denizens pouring in through the school gates; evidently word of the planning for the annual celebration gathered a higher turnout at these things than usual.
The high school gymnasium was large and airy, if a bit dim. The citizens all piled into rather splintery old bleachers while Mayor Crawford, Cecelia Crawford and the buxom Mai Valentine sat on wooden chairs on the basketball court in front of a series of hanging curtains and banners. Mai's seat was set up before a desk, upon which rested a fairly large typewriter. Off in one corner of the floor rested a tinkling piano, behind which a brunette woman sat, merrily playing something vaguely cheery on the rather out-of-tune old instrument.
Seto cast his eyes about the gymnasium, taking in the various attitudes of the Domino townies, as he had begun calling them in his head. The place, it seemed, was packed. He caught a glimpse of the calm features of Ishizu Ishtar, who sat several rows beneath him besides a fair-haired boy with similar coloring. Seto could not resist smirking, couldn't resist staring at those bow-shaped lips, past those wire-rimmed spectacles and at those sea-blue eyes that were so intently focused on the proceedings on the floor, at her perfect, taut posture—all those things he so wanted to see in a different light, a different, more private setting.
Ishizu watched her brother's loose, almost limp posture as he sat on the bench next to her and reached out a hand to his shoulder. She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and felt him soften further.
She sighed and turned her head to watch the proceedings on the floor. Suddenly, she felt a pair of eyes on her and turned her head sharply, unintentionally meeting the rather prying gaze of the man who had stopped her on her way home the previous night.
She couldn't stop herself from blushing at his rather inappropriate gaze, from looking hard at her folded hands.
Then, in response, steeling herself, she narrowed her eyes, tightened her lips, and looked right back at him. I do not know this man, and I certainly do not trust him.
Why is he looking at me like that?
She felt a small thrill of pride when the man finally looked away. That'll teach him to be rude.
Most of the people were talking at length with one another about one thing or another, their voices all combining into one dull buzz of general excitement. Women scolded their young children for fidgeting; a trio of men sitting by Serenity bickered animatedly amongst themselves, fairly quaking in their fine suits—if not positive excitement permeating the gymnasium, Seto figured, then at least a bit of liveliness amongst the citizens was on display.
He had to remind himself to breathe as his stomach began to clench around itself.
The Mayor, whose long, white hair flowed past his shoulders in a rather ridiculous gesture, strode towards the center of the floor and raised his arms in a would-be attempt at benediction, floating his fingers around in an attempt to try to get the crowd to calm down.
He stood like that, as if flicking water off the tips of his fingers, for a good long minute, looking incredibly self-important and utterly ridiculous, until a near-screech emitted from Cecelia Crawford, who'd since grown bored of watching her husband attempt to gain the town's attention:
"Everyone, if you'd please be quiet! The Mayor is about to address us!"
At this, the hordes of citizens fell silent. The thrumming piano noises ceased as well, ending on a rather sour note.
If having to rely on his wife to gain the attention of the masses in this case bothered him, Mayor Crawford certainly didn't let on. He merely lowered his hands and began in a rather oily tone, amid the gentle clacking of Mai's typewriter as she got it all down.
"Hello, fine citizens of Domino Town. As you all know, our annual Domino Town founding celebration is coming up. After last year's record turnout—" Yugi had scoffed at this, since record in this case meant about a tenth of the town's citizenry, a mere hundred people— "we have decided to directly involve you, the fine people of this fine town."
This announcement was greeted with quite a bit of buzzing, which subsided when the Mayor continued blithely and without a trace of irony: "and that, my good people, means committees!"
Seto couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"Yes, yes, please keep your excitement to a minimum. We will be delegating the entertainment planning to two committees. We will have a Men's Committee, which will facilitate planning of the sporting events at the various avenues throughout the following month, and a Ladies' Committee, which will handle all planning of the food and other sorts of entertainment."
Hm… Then, clearly, it's time to take charge of the Men's Committee. Surely a Duel Monsters tournament would fall under their purview… Seto crossed and uncrossed his legs, mind whirring as he gazed about the room again.
The Mayor here looked a bit sheepish. "Now, my wife, as you all know, the incomparable Cecelia, has requested that she be allowed to select members of the Ladies' Committee here at this meeting. So, without further ado, may I present Cecelia Crawford!" He backed away as half-hearted applause broke out and the imperious-looking Cecelia took the floor, standing strongly and sturdily as if she owned the place.
"Now, I'd like to call for volunteers for the Ladies' Committee here and now, because I know that those wonderful Domino Town women who are here now are some of our most dedicated and passionate about making our town even better." She crossed her hands and looked to Mai, who was still typing up a storm.
"Now, if I could please have every woman here who is interested in joining the committee raise their hand, and Mai here can take down her name?"
Ishizu brightened for a moment and figured, why not? Perhaps it could help my relationship with the rest of town if I were involved in something like this…
She, along with around fifteen other women placed here and there in there, raised her hand, a bit tentatively.
Marik looked over at her, rather surprised, shaking a bit out of his lethargy and twisting his hands together in a bit of nervous anxiety. "Sister, what…"
Cecelia Crawford surveyed the women raising their hands, crossing her arms before her and pursing her perfectly pink-painted lips.
She began reciting the names of the women to the furiously typing Mai Valentine. "Thank you, ladies! So, Mai, that's Téa Gardner from behind the piano, Vivian Wong, Rebecca Hawkins, Miho Nosata, so nice to have you with us…" and she counted off every woman going across her audience with a perfectly manicured finger.
When she came to counting off Ishizu, Cecelia Crawford bristled slightly. A tiny smirk came across her face and she said, "all right, Mai, that will do it for us. Thank you again, ladies! I'll be sending you all a letter with more information about the Ladies' Committee in the mail later in the week."
Ishizu was left with her hand in the air, attempts at volunteering having gone completely ignored, as Cecelia Crawford bowed her head, thanking the citizens for their time, and cheerfully left the center of the floor as if nothing were amiss.
Ishizu's face fell quickly; she hoped to God that nobody was looking at her right then. Oh, come on now, Ishizu. What else could you possibly have expected from that woman? Any further humiliation or, God forbid, pity from one of the other citizens, would just positively be the miserable cherry on top. Her cheeks blazed; she closed her eyes and attempted to quell the liquid fire running through her veins, the pure hatred she felt for the Mayor's wife… no good would ever come of it. She was sure of this, and yet…
This affair hardly caused much of a ripple amongst the townspeople—for most of them, what right had Ishizu Ishtar to try to take more from the town? If not the art collection, then what did she want—their precious time, power in the Ladies' Committee? Mrs. Crawford hardly owed her anything…
Seto, for one, cut his eyes right to Ishizu after Cecelia had failed to call out her name, and regarded the shifting sands of her lovely face with more than a bit of sympathy. He didn't think it possible, but something about the way she held her mouth together, so delicately, so tenuously, in the face of such rudeness and coldness from the Mayor's wife…
He found himself wondering, keenly and acutely, what Ishizu Ishtar could possibly have done to incur the wrath of Domino Town.
Marik regarded his sister's downcast, tense expression, the way her shoulders knit themselves together as she tried to force herself to be calm, cool, collected—it made his mouth taste disgustingly sour, his hands itch…
And when Marik got the itch, there was no telling what would happen next. Marik himself often didn't know what would happen, what sort of trouble he would end up pulling. Oftentimes it was something bad, but even the little things hadn't exactly endeared him to the town—the night spent in jail, rather than soothing that itch, that desire to do all sorts of things that made everyone all cross, had only inflamed that need.
God, how Marik Ishtar hated this stupid, stupid, cruel little town.
Without a word, while Ishizu was still bent over, biting her lip in minor anguish, he slipped past her and made his quiet way down the side aisle of the bleachers, keeping low as to not be noticed, and crouched low on the floor, digging in his pockets for something—something he could use…
He felt a few loose matches and…
Bingo.
As the Mayor took the floor again, preparing to say something else rather pompous and completely unnecessary (by Marik's own standards), Marik took the opportunity to sneak behind the curtain and crouch behind where Mrs. Crawford stood, at the edge of the basketball court over near Mai.
He offered a mental apology to both Mai and to Ishizu, a tiny grin curving on his face, and set off the tiny firecracker he'd somehow left in the pocket—of his nice gray trousers, no less.
BANG!
The noise from the firecracker reverberated off the walls of the gymnasium, with a plume of smoke emitting from behind Mrs. Crawford, who yelped in alarm and patted her backside, hoping she hadn't caught fire.
Marik doubled back behind the curtain, hoping to make his getaway. He heard some screams of fright from the women in the audience, some garbled shouting from the men. Adrenaline roared through his veins; his steps were light, catlike, as he nimbly darted from behind the curtain and towards his former seat beside his sister.
Ishizu blanched, a cold sweat breaking over her face when she saw her brother's pale-haired form peeking out from behind the curtain…
Oh dear. Oh god, please don't, Marik…
"Who set off that firecracker?" demanded the Mayor, his perfect, silken calm rattled by the noise, by the loss of control over the audience.
Someone in the audience, a child perhaps, noticed the ripple in the curtain from where Marik had been running and screamed: "Look!"
The Mayor's narrowed eyes alighted upon the pale-haired boy running to up the steps of the bleachers towards Ishizu. "Marik Ishtar! How dare you?"
Marik froze, skin feeling quite suddenly like ice, all trace of impishness gone from him like the smoke off the firecracker. God-dammit.
He attempted to run back down the steps as Ishizu rose, holding out her hands towards him and moving forward to pull him to their seats; the Domino Town constable, Solomon Sugoroku, a grizzled, stocky gentleman in overalls and badge, began approaching him from the bottom of the bleachers, brandishing his nightstick, handcuffs swinging at his hips.
He was trapped.
Damn that itch.
Dully, he lowered his head. It hadn't even been worth it, in the end, he realized rather ruefully; Ishizu would once again suffer humiliation at his hands. He raised his arms above his head and allowed the constable to lead him quietly down towards the front of the bleachers.
"Oh, Marik…" whispered Ishizu, wanting nearly to cry, her face flushed with pain for the second time. First the incident with Cecelia Crawford, and then this, in public, during the Domino Town meeting…
Today was clearly not her day. She sat down hard, shoulders shaking, her breath coming in unsteadily. Yet she couldn't leave—she could not bear to run out of the gymnasium as she so longed to do, to run all the way to her studio and just scream.
Seto saw everything with not a small grain of amusement and focused his intent blue gaze on that boy. Marik Ishtar… so Ishizu has a brother. A true handful of one to boot.
What else hasn't Yugi told me about this woman? He cut his eyes back to Ishizu, who was making her best effort to resume her regal bearing.
Judging by the way her eyes seemed to glitter with repressed tears, she was going to be on the losing side of that battle.
Serenity Crawford, for her part, covered her mouth with her hands, trying not to cry out in vain, to reveal herself utterly to a good portion of the town and to anger her parents in the process. Oh no… Marik, please… please don't do this anymore… oh, Marik…
"Marik Ishtar… that boy is nothing but a no-good ruffian…"
"He's bad, all right, but with that sister, who could blame him? Boys will be boys…"
"Yes, I agree, but why did he have to spoil our lovely town meeting?"
"… It's just not right. They should have turned him over to the state years ago."
The Mayor's voice rose over the cacophony of reactions, all odiousness and smoothness returned to his voice. He raised his hands in that ridiculous gesture and patted the air as if to quiet the citizens down.
"Fortunately," he began, looking rather nervously towards Mrs. Crawford, who looked aggrieved but was thoroughly unharmed and was currently being calmed down by Téa and Mai, "Mrs. Crawford will recover, no thanks to a certain young…" He scanned the front row where the constable held Marik in tow. "…delinquent… who is a disgrace to the city."
Ishizu bowed her head briefly, fully aware that at least several of the audience members had to be casting judgment upon her as well. She folded her hands in her lap delicately and sat up straight as she raised her head, focusing so hard on the wooden walls of the gym that the grain turned abstract in her eyes.
Mayor Crawford cleared his throat. "Now, my good citizens of Domino Town, the Mayor's office has already planned for a little picnic to kick off the town celebration, to take place tomorrow evening in Shadi Park, providing it isn't raining."
This seemingly innocuous announcement set off a spate of bickering among three gentlemen in the front row of the bleachers.
One of the gentlemen, a man in a tweed suit with blond hair that flowed around his face in a rather leonine manner called out in a baritone, "Rain? How could it be raining? Didn't the Herald predict it would be fair outside?"
The man seated to his right, a smaller, dark-haired fellow with a brick-red suit and spectacles, cut him off testily, his voice a tenor ringing through the air. "Now, Wheeler, didn't you hear what the Mayor said?"
The man on the other side of the blond, a tall, blue-suited man with close-cropped brown hair and a stolid-looking bearing, replied in a deep bass voice, "Come now, Devlin, he was merely asking a question. After all, where would we hold the picnic if it does rain?"
Devlin rolled his eyes behind his spectacles. "Taylor, please. The Herald is only accurate most of the time."
Taylor nodded and turned to Wheeler. "Yes, Wheeler. Why would you read that old rag anyway? If I were in the banking business, I'd not last very long being accurate only most of the time…"
The three men continued on in this fashion for about a minute, their voices growing louder and more unpleasant, Wheeler the blond getting particularly riled up as all three stood up from their seats on the bleachers and began to push one another around.
"Could we please have order?" beseeched the Mayor, his façade of calm threatening to slip from his face and manner permanently. "Will you members of the Council please stop bickering in public like children?"
Wheeler, Taylor and Devlin silenced themselves, properly chastised, and took their seats, eyeing one another with some suspicion.
Yugi nudged Seto and whispered: "Those three cannot stand one another, even though they've known and worked with one another for years."
This town is going to kill me, dammit. I swear to God.
Seto nodded bluntly in response and rolled his head on his neck, trying to limber up. He could feel the energy level of the room beginning to dip as the Mayor continued with his tedious announcements; at this rate, he would only have a few precious minutes to make the all-important Duel Monsters pitch and hope against hope that it stuck.
After all, he had performed this con in town after town moving along the American heartland, but Domino Town seemed distinctly designed to give him pause.
He took a deep shuddering breath and wiped his forehead. This was it—the final breath before he had to land the citizens of this town. He'd baited the hook the previous night, but this delivery was everything.
This is for you…
… little brother.
Seto felt only slightly nauseated as he called out, interrupting the Mayor's droning: "We heard there was a new nickelodeon-theater in town!"
Much to Seto's relief, someone in another part of the bleachers picked up on the thread Seto had begun and shouted out: "Yeah, that's what we heard!"
And from there it scattered like wildfire, more perfect than if Seto had personally lit everyone's flame himself.
"Well, is it a nickelodeon or isn't it?"
"What kind of pictures is the theater going to be showing, Mayor Crawford?"
"Would you all please let me finish with the announcements?" Mayor Crawford bellowed, his face turning red, spittle flying from his mouth.
"We don't want any more damned announcements until we get some answers, Mayor Crawford!"
Seto slipped out of his seat and made his way down the rows of the bleachers, walking nimbly amid the growing chaos.
He called out once more, "let's protect our children!"
"I'm concerned about the nickelodeon-theater, Mr. Mayor—for myself and for my children!"
"Resist the smut that this nickelodeon-theater will expose our children to!" chimed in Yugi from where he sat in the bleachers. I sure hope Seto knows what he is doing…
The Mayor now looked positively exhausted, his breath coming in short spurts as his voice was rendered ragged by all the quieting he had attempted to do. Cecelia looked livid and confused at her husband's inability to calm things down; after all, wasn't he the blasted Mayor of these people? Even the constable, with his nightstick and shouting, was unable to help right the ship without risking losing sight of Marik.
In essence, Domino Town had finally lost it at the meeting.
Ishizu sat amid the chaos, hands folded in her lap, trying to puzzle it all out. Her eyes alighted upon Seto as the tall, slim stranger slipped in and out of the crowds, seemingly unaffected by the general hysteria that held the gymnasium in its callous, heated grip.
Seto took one last breath and jogged to the center of the floor. His voice was clear as a bell as he called out to the audience.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen of Domino Town! May I have your attention, please?"
Something in the charming, confident nature of his voice took root where the Mayor's and the constable's had failed to previously; the citizens took notice of this strange man addressing them and found themselves calming down, the harsh buzzing quieting down to a dull roar, then to utter silence.
Seto smiled brightly, allowing the nervous adrenaline to course through his veins as the audience blurred for a second before his eyes. "Friends, strangers, and neighbors, while I know that things may seem confusing and out of sorts now, I have a solution for all of Domino Town's troubles!"
He removed his deck from his pocket and held it aloft. "What do you see, ladies and gentlemen?"
There was no response from the audience, who, with the exception of Ishizu, was utterly transfixed, their eyes practically glued to this handsome man standing before them.
To Yugi and to Ishizu, the look on Seto's face was positively predatory as he swept his eyes over the crowd, taking in the rapt faces of every man, woman and child. Even the haughty Crawford themselves regarded him with singular attention as he continued.
"It may seem, my friends, as if this is an ordinary deck of cards. The ancients played cards, kings, queens, lords have all played cards, correct?" He drew the top card from his deck (Saggi the Dark Clown) and showed it to the audience, those in front particularly subject to the leering face on the card. A few of the more delicate audience members nearly gasped. Seto had to fight to keep from smirking.
"But this is no ordinary deck of cards—of course, you have already figured that out, haven't you?"
Lay it on. Thickly. Spread it, feed upon it…
"This, my friends, is all part of a little game called Duel Monsters."
At this, the audience began to buzz amongst its members. Had anyone heard of this game? Certainly not; did anyone know of anyone in any of the neighboring towns who played it? Something in the paper? Perhaps in Chicago, New York, Cleveland, the bigger cities…?
"Duel Monsters is the sport of kings, ladies and gentlemen: two duelists, facing one another in honor, competing for the glorious prize. The game requires skill, it requires luck; it requires work and dedication and a little bit of nerve. And isn't that especially true of us—not only as people of Domino Town, but as citizens of this great country, which was built upon skill, built upon luck and work and dedication and nerve?"
From where Ishizu sat, this all seemed like a rather silly show… she crossed her legs and rolled her eyes just barely. He's laying it on rather thick, isn't he?
The crowd slowly began to nod and agree amongst itself. Seto grinned broadly again, hardly believing his luck, and shuffled the cards quickly, allowing them to nearly fly into the air for a more theatrical effect.
Yugi watched him work his near-magic, his jaw gradually falling open with awe at how Seto managed to massage, to bend the famously stubborn, narrow-minded denizens of Domino Town right where he wanted them: pliant, open, charmed, as if he was offering something they truly needed and hadn't known until he'd spoken the words. He practically radiated charm, authority, charisma, and goodwill—and didn't he know it.
"I, myself, am a champion of Duel Monsters," Seto continued, his voice glossing over the first of several key lies he'd constructed to make his story plausible. After all, since no one in Domino Town knew the rules of the game, nor its history, and certainly not the rankings, with his demeanor alone he could pull it off. "My name is Seto Kaiba, and my company that I have founded, traveling all over this great country of ours, is dedicated to training our young people to play, to enjoy, to exalt in this wondrous game of Duel Monsters."
Here he applied a nostalgic tone to his voice. "I graduated from the New York City Duel Academy as a young man, and soon made my way in the world, playing tournaments and teaching young players all along the way. I created a device that allows"
This was, of course, wholly untrue—Seto Kaiba had learned the game in back alleyways and under bridges in the dead of night.
Of course, no one, save Yugi, perhaps, needed to know that.
He continued, clearing his throat, allowing the silky syllables to roll off his tongue with little effort. "And now I've decided to take my trade on the road as part of the Kaiba Company. I've taught children all over the United States, from Albany to San Francisco, how to structure their decks, think like a duelist. They've learned to master their monster cards, spell defeat and victory with spell cards, even trigger their own glory with trap cards… and so can your children, ladies and gentlemen.
"Don't you see?" He brought that tone of false concern, of false care and worry into his tone. "This is precisely what Domino Town needs, in the light of this troublesome, troublesome nickelodeon theater opening up. What better way to turn our children away from smut, away from sin and corruption, away from the darkness and towards the light, towards teamwork and thinking and friendly competition…"
Well, that part was also patently false. As far as friendly competition went, the application of such was hardly in Seto Kaiba's vocabulary. As he'd grown up, scrabbiling and scrounging, often playing the game for food or shelter as a child, it was either crush or be crushed, with nary a middle ground to stand upon.
As earlier, none of the good people of Domino Town needed to know any of that.
"Just think, ladies and gentlemen of Domino Town… friends, neighbors… just think of it.
"A Duel Monsters tournament, with all the town's boys and girls participating, competing, trading, practicing together… as part of the festivities for the annual Town celebration!"
The crowd began to pick up on his excitement and resume its buzzing, at increasingly higher volumes. Children leaned forward towards where Seto stood, practically salivating at the opportunity to learn this game, their parents ready to open their wallets and shower him with checks all crisp and parchment-like…
"That is, if you'll have me as part of the Men's Committee," demurred Seto with false modesty, bowing his head slightly and lifting his arms to signify that, indeed, he had finished his little spiel.
You never heard such thunderous applause in Domino Town as in the following moments. Wheeler himself jerked his head sharply towards the upper windows of the gymnasium, wondering if, by God, it had already begun to rain.
For his part, the Mayor, frankly, looked thunderstruck as he stood by Cecelia, Mai, and Téa. Mai had ceased typing as soon as Seto had begun weaving his spell. The coterie could only watch as a large crowd of schoolchildren descended from their seats on the bleachers, leaving their enchanted, cheering parents behind, swarming towards the tall, handsome travelling salesman standing in the center of the basketball court, a broad smile gleaming on his face.
He stood over them, leaning over, engaging with each little boy and girl as they looked up at him so trustingly, their eyes all round and shining with excitement, with the promise of new games to come…
A bitter feeling filled his mouth as he thought of his brother. The last time he'd seen Mokuba, he hadn't been much older than eight or nine, the same age as a good many of these children.
God only knew where he was now. Seto fought to keep from blanching, feeling his smile become slightly more forced as he showed the children cards from his deck—these children wouldn't laugh at his piss-poor monsters and extraneous spell cards; they'd only be impressed with the pretty drawings.
Gradually each child was called away by his or her parent as it seemed the meeting was officially adjourned; Yugi, still in awe and nearly in half a mind to buy whatever Seto was selling, made his way to where Seto stood and just beamed at him for a good long minute before making his way out of the gymnasium.
Seto nodded his head briskly in recognition for a job well done, a net well cast, and swept his eyes about the gymnasium one last time, his gaze alighting not for the first and certainly, he hoped, not for the last time on Ishizu Ishtar.
The woman was still sitting on the bleachers, hands folded firmly in her lap, the perfect picture of grace and stillness in a sea of drifting townies as they climbed down from the bleachers and trickled out of the gymnasium, all agog—save Wheeler, Taylor, and Devlin, those erstwhile three enemies; the Mayor, his wife, Mai, who was furiously trying to recreate what the stranger had said during his little recitation, Téa Gardner, one of the moderately kinder ladies in town; and Serenity, who had run over to the stranger in the center of the room with her younger sisters, as part of the mob that had surrounded him, clamoring for more…
Her eyes narrowed in intense concentration as she studied his face. Rather like she would a painting, she supposed. The lines, the planes, the curves of his expression, the way his lips moved over his teeth, how his smile reached, but did not quite meet his cerulean eyes…
Something about his story… well, frankly, the whole thing seemed utterly ridiculous, and it was just like the town of Domino to go completely mad for a stranger like this, after they'd been wallowing and stewing in their own bitterness for years and years…
She didn't like it one bit.
Still, though, she currently had a rather full plate—Marik still sat quietly in the front of the emptying bleachers, head hanging below his shoulders, with the constable watching him like a hawk, the older man's grizzled gray hair shaking; the older man looked positively morose with his young charge.
She allowed the man with the suitcase—Seto Kaiba, she amended—one last calculating glare, for he was still drinking her in like she was a cool glass of water on a boiling hot day, before making her quiet way down to where her brother and the constable sat.
She cleared her throat and approached the two men, lifting her hand rather tentatively. "Constable Sugoroku, please, if I could just take him home…" Please let me take him home. Let us forget this awful day ever happened. Please don't take him down to the station.
Constable Sugoroku shrugged his shoulders resignedly. "I'm sorry, Miss Ishtar. But Mayor Crawford's not happy about this. After all, Mrs. Crawford could have been severely injured by Marik here's little prank…"
Ishizu bit her lip and bowed her head. "Another night in lockup, then?" she asked quietly, her voice coming out just rather rough around the edges.
Marik didn't react as Constable Sugoroku nodded gravely. "Looks that way. I'll telephone your house if something changes."
"And there's nothing to be done about it? Please, Constable, he's just a boy…"
"Miss Ishtar, I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do about this."
For Ishizu, that was nearly the last straw. The tears began to fill her eyes as she leaned forward, pressed a kiss to Marik's smooth forehead, ruffled his hair, and walked out of the gymnasium. She dug into her pocket for a handkerchief, her shoulders slumped over, praying that she could hold off with the waterworks.
…At least until she made it back to the studio. At least she could hold in the tears of anguish before she made it away from the world's prying eyes.
By God, she really needed to paint something. A mess of blacks and drippy grays formed in her mind's eye; she saw the gloomy shades engulfing her hands and feet, threatening to swallow her whole into that churning mass of darkness, of hopelessness.
I failed you, Marik. I'm so sorry.
The Mayor, still a bit shell-shocked from how his town meeting had been utterly hijacked by this handsome young stranger, dismissed Mai and Téa with an absent-minded wave of his hand. He gathered Wheeler, Taylor and Devlin around him, with Cecelia listening in from where she sat, and spoke in hushed, gravelly tones.
"That—that Seto Kaiba is a spellbinder… do not trust him for one minute, gentlemen—not until you see his credentials. If he's a true champion of this silly Duel Monsters game, he ought to have some form of documentation… perhaps see if you can't get in touch with any of his references at that Duel Academy in New York City. Understood? I won't rest until I know what that man's about."
The three men nodded gravely, in perfect synchronization for perhaps the first time in their lives, and immediately resumed their quotidian bickering amongst themselves.
"Now, to deal with that trash Marik Ishtar…"
From where Seto stood in the middle of the basketball court, as the children around him slowly began to disperse, his keen eyes caught a glimpse of the exchange between the constable and Ishizu Ishtar. How the young boy had done nothing, seemed resigned to a miserable night in the Domino Town jail, how he didn't even react to Ishizu's very visible distress…
He nimbly made his way over to where the constable and Marik sat; the Mayor was fast approaching the pair with a stern look on his face, with Wheeler, Taylor and Devlin in tow.
"You wild hoodlum—you attacked my wife, Cecelia, the finest woman who ever lived…"
Seto picked up his pace until he was at the scene. "Excuse me, constable, Mayor Crawford," he began smoothly, lifting up his arms to try to quell the Mayor's rising anger, "I will take responsibility for the boy."
It will serve several purposes if I can get close to this boy. Who knows, maybe I'll even help him.
The constable's not inconsiderably round eyes widened further. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Mr. Kaiba—this kid's bad news! Probably got his gang waiting around the corner…"
Seto bent his knees until he was on eye level with Marik; he gently placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to meet the boy's dull gaze. "Marik? Would you like to be my number two man in the Duel Monsters tournament planning?"
The Mayor cut in, blustering. "Now just a minute here, Mr. Kaiba—no one's agreed to any damned tournament…"
Seto continued, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "Marik… think about it, all right? I think you've definitely got potential, despite what these gentlemen here think of you…" Let's see if this can't get him interested.
If Marik thought anything of what Seto was saying to him oh-so-sweetly, he didn't indicate it. His eyes blinked once, then twice, but the emotionless set of his face did not alter one whit.
The Mayor studied his watch and emitted a resigned sigh. "While I'd love to personally ensure that you see justice, you little hoodlum, I have municipal business to attend to." He turned his icy cold gaze on Seto, who merely responded, deflected as he did so well, with a bland, harmless smile. "You, Mr. Kaiba—I'd like to talk to you on Monday morning, ten-o-clock sharp, about this… this whole Duel Monsters idea you've got running around in that head of yours."
Seto nodded, the smile never leaving his face. "Of course, Mayor Crawford," he replied smoothly. "Looking forward to it." He extended his hand. After a moment of trepidation, the Mayor extended his own and shook it.
As the Mayor departed the group in a huff, suit jacket swirling about him in a rather theatrical fashion, accompanied by Wheeler, Taylor and Devlin, Seto cast his eyes about the room and fixated on young Serenity Crawford, standing off to the side of the stage rather meekly, hands clasped behind her back. Her mother still sat in her seat, fretting to Mai and Téa about whether her dress had been ruined, utterly ruined by that frightful Ishtar boy, with the other two women clucking in appropriate sympathy.
Seto walked over to where Serenity stood and bade her to come over to where the constable and Marik still stood, the boy's head looking downwards, shoulders still slumped, while the constable stood at attention, alert, as if awaiting further instructions.
Seto smiled and looped Serenity's arm through Marik's, noticing acutely the positively scarlet blush that bloomed on Serenity's cheeks at this gesture. Even Marik himself seemed to come to life a bit; was that a bit of pink on the boy's face?
Bingo. Seto seemed to have stumbled upon something—scratched the surface of some sort of relationship he did not quiet yet understand. "Why don't you let the boy go, constable," Seto said, layering tones of charm and approval into his voice.
"Why don't you let this nice young lady accompany him—perhaps to the soda shop?" And here he pressed a few coins into Marik's hand. "Now, don't be too long, you two…"
"Serenity Crawford! What are you doing with that boy?" rang out the shrill voice of Cecelia Crawford, who had stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over the chair. She half-ran, half-hobbled over to where Seto, Marik, Serenity (who was nearly hyperventilating at the feel of Marik's arm in hers), and the rather amused constable. She reached out a firm hand and yanked Serenity away from the men, fixing Marik with a pitiless, venomous glare. "How dare you touch my precious Serenity after you nearly killed me, you piece of trash?"
As Serenity could only hang her head and continue to blush, feeling utterly infantilized, first by the dress, and now by her mother's behavior, Cecelia Crawford stuck her nose in the air and led her daughter, the younger sisters trailing behind, out of the high school gymnasium.
Seto bowed his head. Well, that was a slight miscalculation on my part.
The constable guided Marik to sitting and let out a slight chuckle. "Well, Mr. Kaiba, you're a pretty bright young fellow, aren't you?"
Seto shrugged. "Perhaps I am. We all have our moments, now, don't we, Constable…"
"Sugoroku," finished the grizzled old man. He sat down beside his young charge, who seemed, once again, to have gone nearly catatonic, his demeanor revealing nothing. Only his eyes, that strange pale lavender color, seemed alive—and hurt.
"Well, you made a couple mistakes, as you may have noticed."
Seto raised an eyebrow, trying to retain his perfect control, the perfect façade. "Oh?" Damn. Another mistake? This soon in the game?
"For one, that girl you brought over here? As you may have noticed, that's the Mayor's oldest girl, and—no offense, son—" he muttered to Marik, who let out what almost resembled a shrug—"you're hardly in his good graces."
Seto ducked his head in acknowledgement, keeping the good humor thickly applied to his face, to his posture. "I picked up on that one. What else?"
The constable let out a wry chuckle.
"Well, Seto Kaiba, the Mayor happens to own that new nickelodeon-theater you were railing against."
Seto nearly choked on his own spittle, the facade slipping for the briefest of moments, as the constable led Marik out of the gymnaisum and towards the station.