Jonouchi had caught the bus just before it had taken off, and he couldn't have been more grateful. He could feel his hackles rising, and his heart was racing, although it had nothing to do with his sprint to the bus stop.
He was infuriated. Mostly at Kaiba, but also at himself for even entertaining the idea that maybe just once, Kaiba wouldn't be such an asshole. Jonouchi wasn't even sure why Kaiba had been at the Kame Game Shop if he had his own card dealer, but he chalked it up to bad luck and even worse timing.
He couldn't understand why Kaiba felt the need to be insufferable all the time. Didn't the guy ever tired of being so goddamn contrary? Or maybe it was just his hobby, and Jonouchi was the latest (and likely, most frequent) recipient of Kaiba's ministrations.
Jonouchi thought that maybe he had gotten over it. They were a bit older, now, and he'd finally won a Duel against Kaiba, unranked or not. The details didn't really matter to him one way or another, just that it had happened. After years of struggles and humiliations, he'd finally bested Kaiba and would finally gain the other's acknowledgement.
Or so he'd hoped.
No, Kaiba continued to deny him. And to add insult to injury, he'd reminded Jonouchi of his place—taunting a sponsorship that was just out of his reach. Why even bring it up if not to kick him down?
After everything, Jonouchi still wasn't good enough.
So he'd left. No point in potentially assaulting someone (in your best friend's family shop, to boot) who could send you to jail and throw away the key while they're at it. It had been years since Jonouchi broke from the gang, and while he knew he still had a penchant for settling scores with fists rather than wits, he didn't particularly care to try that bit of luck any further than what he'd pushed in the past.
He wasn't going to be like his father.
Hugging his messenger bag in his lap, Jonouchi carefully took out his new cards and shuffled through them, trying to ease his clenching jaw. Back to square one. He would just have to prove himself in the next round of regionals, and maybe some other company would bite. Nothing would be as good as a Kaiba Corp sponsorship, but Jonouchi wasn't sure if the personal price was worth the benefit. He sighed, leaning his head against the cool glass of the bus window.
It would be a hell of a lot of money, though.
Scrubbing his eyes, Jonouchi packed his cards away and moved to the front of the bus. He still have a good fifteen-minute walk to his apartment, and the sky was darkening fast. He hustled through the streets, keeping close to the streetlamps and kept a tight hold onto his bag. He didn't relax until his key slid into the lock, and he hurried inside into the dark apartment. Soft snores drifted from the couch, the room aglow with the faint light of snow on the small television screen. Sighing, Jonouchi felt around blindly for the remote, turned the set off, then retreated into his room. He was hungry but no longer had an appetite, and collapsing onto his futon, he stared at the dark ceiling until sleep took over.
Jonouchi's eyes snapped open the next morning, a sense of dread pooling in his stomach. He groaned as he rolled over, throwing an arm out to his desk and retrieving his cell phone. Sure enough, he'd overslept.
Cursing silently, he bolted out of bed, racing into the shower and throwing on the first set of clean clothes he could find. As he left, Jonouchi noted that the couch was empty, the second bedroom door slightly ajar. His father must have relocated sometime during the night. It was a little unnerving—normally Jonouchi's ears were especially attuned to movement within their apartment, but he must have been so completely out of it the previous night that it escaped his attention.
He wouldn't have time to wait for the bus. Cursing to himself again, Jonouchi broke out into a run, nearly getting clipped by a car and colliding with a woman walking her dog in the process. He shouted half-hearted apologies mainly by habit, weaving around trash cans and storekeepers, pacing himself with the crosswalk lights so that he wouldn't have to come to a complete stop.
Fourteen blocks to go.
Jonouchi arrived just two minutes late, calling out morning greetings to the shop owner and ducking into the garage. Honda was already there, clipboard in hand, and he gave a short wave before tossing it onto a counter and crouching to investigate the cabinets below.
"Yo," Jonouchi managed to gasp out, still panting.
"Hey," Honda acknowledged, sifting through the shelves. "You're late."
"Whatever, man, I just forgot to switch my alarm. Don't jump my balls about it," Jonouchi replied snippily, stowing his bag in his cubby.
Honda snorted loudly from his position across the way. "Ooh, Sleeping Beauty's testy today!" he teased.
Rolling his eyes, Jonouchi moved to join him, plopping onto a nearby shop stool. "Sorry, just a little on edge. So what's on the schedule for today?"
Honda tossed the clipboard to Jonouchi, who deftly caught it in one hand. He flipped through the pages as Honda explained. "Not a whole lot, actually. We got some new shipments in the back, so Fujiwara-san wants us to take current inventory before stocking them. Then a clutch replacement at nine-thirty, a dented pipe at noon, then a faulty fuel injector at four. I think Fujiwara-san wants to take on the pipe, but he said we could pretty much do whatever between jobs."
"Sweet deal," Jonouchi grinned, "maybe I can get him to show me how to do some fixes on my bike."
"What, that rusty clunker?" Honda said, dodging a box of latex gloves aimed for his head. "I don't see why you're gonna dump money into that thing. Just get a new one."
"It's vintage," Jonouchi emphasized, sticking his tongue out. "Besides, my old man gave it to me. I wanna bring it back to its glory days like when he used to ride."
Honda sniffed in mock derision, "It's American."
"Don't be jealous that you had to settle for a crotch rocket while I have a real man's bike," Jonouchi laughed. "Anyways, let's get to work before Fujiwara starts breathing fire."
"On you, maybe," Honda remarked, "I'm already working."
Jonouchi blew off Honda's comment, flipping him off behind his back before picking up his spreadsheet and going over the stock he was responsible for. A few times parts had been stolen by dishonest assistant mechanics, since they were in the "bad side" of town, and Fujiwara was paranoid about losing money.
The man was like a little dragon, storing his treasure far away and snapping at anyone who tried getting too close to it. Honda liked to laugh and say his sexuality was money, because Fujiwara had told them he refused to get married because women cost too much and keeping a lucky cat was better.
There was a stray calico bobtail that came around sometimes, begging for food and lying around where it could get itself killed. Jonouchi found it amusing, how he'd nap on top of the bikes they were trying to fix, while Honda would lose his patience and try chasing the tom away.
It was pointless, though. The cat always appeared at the same time each day, for his meal and daily sunbath. When it was winter, he'd sneak into Fujiwara's office and sit in front of the space heater while everyone else had to brave the cold of the garage.
"Hey, Honda," called out Jonouchi as he marked his sheet with messy checkmarks, "don't you think we should name that cat already? He's been here since before we both started our jobs here."
"No."
Snorting, Jonouchi rolled his eyes. "Oh come on," he continued, "he's like our little mascot or something. Don't be such a killjoy; it's not like he's gonna come steal your job or something. Help me give him a name."
"No way, cats aren't my thing. Besides, once we name him, that means we'll actually be responsible for him. I didn't sign up for that—his skulking around here is annoying enough as it is."
"It should be your thing though," snickered Jonouchi, "Cats seem more attracted to you than women, I've noticed..."
Jonouchi broke out into fits of laughter when Honda threw his rag at him angrily, "Sorry. Maybe if you got a haircut, they wouldn't all be running away from your faux hawk so much..."
Honda paused, incredulous, "A haircut, seriously? Do you even know what that is?" He eyed the top of Jonouchi's head pointedly.
"This is in style. That thing you have going on," Jonouchi pointed towards Honda's head, "was the shit back in middle school. It's time to move on already."
In all actuality, Jonouchi was too afraid to cut his own hair and couldn't afford to pay a professional...besides the fact that salons were meant for girls. His dad would never let him hear the end of it if he actually went and wasted money so some woman could wash his hair and give his ends a trim...something he could do for free at home with the shampoo they bought at the corner store.
"Besides, my golden hair represents one of my charming qualities," continued Jonouchi as he grinned at Honda, "I can't be tamed."
"That's for damn sure," Honda said. "You were always the wildest of us, even back in our delinquent days. Must be that foreign blood," he snickered.
"Oh shut up. Let me remind you that I am half-Japanese and have a birth certificate that says I'm from here, you ass."
Jonouchi hadn't even managed to pass his English classes in high school. Anzu had to tutor him, and even after he finally managed a 3 out of 5, he couldn't get past poor pronunciations and misreading words all the time. His father refused to help him, but that wasn't anything new...
"You just wish you had more interesting ancestry than 'rice field.'"
"Pshh, the Honda line originates from an old, distinguished aristocracy," Honda said airily. "Besides," he continued thoughtfully, twirling a pen between his fingers, "now that I think about it, you were wrong about being untamable—I'm sure Yugi would disagree." Chuckling at Jonouchi's scowl, Honda tucked the pen behind his ear and propped himself up on the countertop. "Hey, any news on him?"
"Nah, I haven't heard from him in a while..."
Yugi had left for an internship in Cairo, having put his dueling career on hold. It was great for competition reasons, not having to worry about facing off against the "King of Games," but Yugi was Jonouchi's best friend. He hated being without him, and Yugi was so busy with school and the museum he was working at, he probably didn't have that much time for phone calls with old friends.
Jonouchi understood. Besides, Yugi really wanted to return to Egypt. Who could fault him for leaving?
"Speaking of Yugi," said Jonouchi after a minute of thought, "I think Kaiba was trying to tail me at the Kame Shop yesterday. It was really weird."
"What?" Honda exclaimed, "You mean Mr. Prissy Pants actually deigned to creep around the working class sections of town?"
"He said he was looking for new cards," snorted Jonouchi, "but I don't think so. He's been trailing me since I dueled him a few weeks ago."
Jonouchi didn't feel like adding the little fact that he'd beat Kaiba at said Duel, but it wasn't like Honda would even believe him if he had. "I wonder what his damn problem is..."
"What isn't his problem," Honda said, rhythmically clacking his heels against the cabinet door. "You do something to piss him off?"
"...Nothing more than usual."
Finishing his inventory check, Jonouchi left to the main office to turn in his paperwork before returning, taking out his old Harley since they had another good hour before any customers would be coming.
Fujiwara had even said before, "Better you break your own bike than one of mine." So practice made perfect, in Jonouchi logic.
"I kinda feel bad for Kaiba, actually."
"Why?" asked Honda, who was hauling boxes from the back room. "It's not like the guy ever spared any of us any regard or sympathy."
"I found out that Mokuba took off for California, so he's probably alone and miserable. You remember how close those two were? I just find it strange that they'd split like that, although Kaiba said Mokuba left on 'business,' but for some reason I doubt that."
"Good," Honda grunted as he ripped packing tape from a box, "It's about time someone stood up to him and stopped taking his shit. Sorry, Jou, but Kaiba always pranced around like an entitled little prick, so I can't say I feel bad about him getting what was coming to him."
"That's his little brother, though, and you know how tight they were, Honda. Don't be an ass; it's not like he even knew who you were enough for you to care so much about how he acted...except maybe the whole Death-T thing," Jonouchi considered, "Although we both know something more was going on then.
"Anyways, I'm a big brother, unlike you, so I just know how it feels to be away from a sibling and unable to protect them. It sucks."
"I'll give you that," Honda admitted as he stacked oil filters in the cabinet. "But it's not like Kaiba ever ranked really high on my list of favorite people… I'd be careful, though—you never really know what to expect when Kaiba's involved."
"Since when have I ever been afraid of a little danger, Honda," joked Jonouchi as he shook his head and laughed, "Besides, he mostly refuses to even talk to me when I approach him. He's like some damn stalking cat who runs away once you turn to look at him. I don't get it. I can't even say I hate him anymore. You can't hate a wounded animal that bites when provoked, you know..."
Jonouchi just didn't like it when Kaiba purposely came after him, like it was a dedicated hobby of his or some shit. That got on his nerves.
"Yugi wouldn't want me giving up on him, anyways."
Honda rolled his eyes. "It might do you good tobe afraid, sometimes," he quipped as he went back to the stockroom. "I wonder about your sense of self-preservation."
"I don't have any!"
When Honda had disappeared, Jonouchi paused and thought for a second, maybe he should care more about himself. He'd thrown his life in the line of fire so many damn times, and he somehow managed to still live to see his high school graduation. Maybe he shouldn't flirt with the fates so much, in case they lost patience with him.
But becoming entangled with Kaiba… Jonouchi didn't know how to feel about that, or even if he really had much of a choice in the matter. It seemed the two of them constantly attracted and repelled one another, like magnets that switched polarities once one got too close to the other.
It was frustrating. All Jonouchi had ever wanted was to befriend him—gain his approval and respect—yet Kaiba remained steadfast in his refusal. And despite all this, they were still thrown together, being forced to deal with each other as though it were some kind of sick penance from past deeds in another life.
Maybe it wasn't the fates Jonouchi had to worry about—they seemed keen on messing with him, perhaps as payback for all the crap he'd gotten into during his youth.
His behavior hadn't been the best. Jonouchi could easily recall how much he used to harass Yugi, just because he was small and quiet. He brought his games to school to play with during lunch instead of playing basketball like the rest of the boys, and of course Jonouchi had to make something of it. Bother Yugi by stealing his stuff and convincing Honda to join in, even though he knew Yugi didn't have much in the way of friends to protect him...
That wasn't even the worst crap he'd ever done. He'd beaten up kids in middle school, putting one in the hospital. It was the reason he couldn't go to the local high school with the rest of his middle school class and got sent to Domino High School instead. The police were already close to locking him up, and if anything, Yugi was a second chance at a normal life. One Jonouchi's own father hadn't given a shit about, believing a cell in prison was the place he belonged...
Jonouchi didn't want to torture himself with Kaiba, but he felt responsible for him, regardless. No one else would have anything to do with him, and Mokuba had left. It wouldn't be right to abandon the guy just because he had an attitude problem—sometimes he wasn't even that bad—but Jonouchi didn't want to be used as a continual punching bag, either.
Fiddling with the broken taillight of his bike, Jonouchi decided to just let life take him where it willed. It was pointless to worry over things he apparently had no control over; he had to focus on what little things he could: his job, his debts, the upcoming regionals...where he'd no doubt see Kaiba again.
He'd show him. He didn't need some grand sponsorship to win. Jonouchi had managed this long on his own, and he was determined to build his list of achievements until some promoter took notice. It was only a matter of time, and although Jonouchi conceded that he wasn't the most patient person, he knew the value of perseverance and hard work.
Besides, he didn't want to kiss Kaiba's ass to make his career happen.
By the time Honda returned to the garage, Jonouchi felt lighter, more secure in his resolve. It was almost like high school again, at the beginning of Yugi's adventure, where every day was met with excitement and possibility. His life was starting again—Jonouchi was sure of it.
On the morning of regionals, Jonouchi awoke a minute before his alarm was set to go off. The sun was already streaming brightly into his room, and he felt alert and revived. He even put effort into his appearance, selecting newer clothes and making a more concerted attempt to tame his unruly hair. Finishing with time to spare, Jonouchi decided to go over his deck one last time. Placing his Duel Disk on the kitchen countertop, Jonouchi dragged a chair over and spread out his cards, going over each and memorizing their attributes. He was so engrossed in his meditations that he didn't notice the clicking of a door or the soft shuffling behind him.
"The hell're you doin'?" a deep voice grumbled, thick with the edge of sleep.
Jonouchi nearly jumped out of his skin, but he schooled himself at the last moment. "'Morning to you, too, Oyaji," he replied neutrally.
His father merely grunted, ambling over to the cupboards. He shifted through their contents loudly, clacking glasses together and nearly knocking over a canister before Jonouchi appeared by his side with an exasperated huff. "Here, let me do that—you're gonna topple everything over." Reaching inside, Jonouchi excavated a large mug and a drip cone, then nudged his father over to reach into the adjacent shelf for the tin of coffee grounds.
It was a habit his father had picked up while living in America. He preferred drip coffee in the morning, turning his nose up at tea or any espresso-based drink—the former being "too girly" and the latter being "for yuppies." He snubbed the instant variety, as well: "imitation shit" companies made to try to swindle him out of his money. His father's pickiness was an endless source of hassle for him in the mornings, so Jonouchi had always tried to clear out before his father woke, to avoid the very debacle he was dealing with now.
Setting the kettle on the burner, Jonouchi retrieved the paper filters and set up the manual drip. "We don't have any sugar; you gonna be okay with that?"
His father gave him a blank stare. "You didn't buy any yesterday?"
"No, I had to close last night, remember?" Jonouchi sighed. "I can get some tonight before I come back home."
It was the wrong thing to say. His father's face turned alert then, his eyes roving over Jonouchi's appearance and the cards laid out on the countertop. "Goin' someplace special, kid?"
Jonouchi's eyes flicked over to the cards and his Duel Disk, and he squirmed under the observation. "Uh, no, not really. There's a local tournament today that I'm playing in," he replied warily. He kept his eyes trained on the kettle, watching the flames lick up along its edges, and willed the damn thing to boil faster.
His father snorted loudly. "Still playing that children's shit? Waste of fuckin' time. You think you can really win?"
"I have before," replied Jonouchi as he averted his gaze from his father's scrutinizing eyes, "The prizes are more than what I make in a month. It's good for us."
"Big head you got there," his father tsked. "Let me tell you somethin' 'bout winning, son—it don't last. You fill your head with those big dream of yours, and I'll tell you where it'll get you. Crashing to the bottom of the goddamned pit," he said viciously, giving Jonouchi a look that bordered condescension and pity. "You think you're really a winner?" he continued, "Look around you. What d'ya fucking see?"
Jonouchi narrowed his eyes before snorting, "This place might be shitty, but this is all I can afford right now. When I get more wins under my belt, it'll be different. I've already come so far-"
His father laughed, a low and hoarse rumbling that reverberated through the tiny room. "You can dream of all the 'ifs' and 'whens,' but that ain't gonna change reality. Just look at you," he reached out and flicked the collar of Jonouchi's jean jacket, "playin' dress-up, tryin' to blend in with those prissy city-boys." He waved his hand, letting his wrist go limp for emphasis. "You think you've got them fooled, but they'll sniff you out like the street rat you are," his father spat, slowly closing the distance between them.
Jonouchi stood his ground but inwardly flinched away. He stealthily turned the knob on the stove, the flames shooting up the sides of the kettle.
"You've got nothin' to say 'cause you know it's true," his father taunted. "You ain't nothin' but a low-life half-breed, just like th'rest of us, so don't you try actin' like you're better. You might've won in the past, but let me make somethin' clear to you: you ain't no winner. Here, in this country, we are not winners. And the faster you learn that, the better it'll do you."
They stood in silence for a while, tension palpable in the air. "Sure, Oyaji," Jonouchi finally mouthed quietly, eyes still trained on the stove.
A high-pitched whistle broke through the air, and Jonouchi wished it had come five minutes earlier.
He poured the water slowly, still feeling his father's heavy presence looming beside him, and Jonouchi cursed his stinging eyes. His father always had a way of cutting him down, past the marrow, right to the organs inside. It didn't matter that he was now an adult; his father made him feel small. Small and weak and hopeless and vulnerable.
The elder Jonouchi had stumbled over to the couch, so Jonouchi wordlessly brought over the steaming mug before collecting his items and gingerly placing them inside his bag. "See you later," he said to the room. He didn't get a reply.
Just like Jonouchi had assumed, Kaiba was sitting up in the stands in all black, looking disinterested right as the final match was about to start. Despite telling himself that he had the Duel in the bag, Jonouchi couldn't get his father's words out of his head. He felt anxious, despite his opponent being less experienced than him, and he'd seen the guy compete before. His deck wasn't particularly difficult, but Jonouchi had to deal with the loss of some of his gamble cards.
Now it was show time. Taking one last sweeping look around the crowd, he didn't see any of his friends around to cheer him on. The only familiar face in the stands was Kaiba, and turning his attention away from him, Jonouchi chided himself internally for even taking note of that. As if Kaiba wouldn't appear at a Duel Monster competition, even if it was only a regional championship.
Did he come for business or just to psyche Jonouchi out? He wasn't sure. It seemed like a silly thing to do and a waste of time, if it was the latter. Kaiba had to have better things to do than hang around watching high schoolers play card games against each other, since the matches weren't really that highly-rated, and none of the big-name professionals were even competing.
If it was a larger competition, Jonouchi would have had a better reason to feel so nervous. Going against some spunky senior who got lucky with a handful of decent trump cards wasn't something worth sweating over.
The match started, and Jonouchi quickly got the upper hand. It was apparent that his opponent was inexperienced, and Jonouchi took down two of his monsters with ease. It wasn't enough to make him relax, though, and he caught himself feeling drawn to the spectator at the top of the stadium rows. He tried to focus.
"Do you really think you can win?"
Jonouchi was caught off-guard, and his opponent managed to unleash a trap that wiped out his field, along with a good chunk of his life points. He mentally berated himself for falling into a false sense of security. Even though the kid was an amateur, he was still a Duelist, and Jonouchi knew he had to get his head in the game. He eyed his hand, trying to come up with a strategy, but he felt like a fish out of water. The ban list had forced him to rehaul his deck extensively, and although he'd studied his cards for days before the tournament, it still didn't feel quite right.
He just needed to think.
Hoping to regain some footing, Jonouchi played a monster in defense and a couple of magic cards face-down. After a few turns, Jonouchi managed to bring his opponent down so that their life points were now equal. He didn't have much in his hand to work with, though, and Jonouchi cursed his bad luck.
"You got lucky. That's all."
His eyes snapped open wide, jerkily moving up to locate the black-clad figure in the stands. It wasn't the time for this. It wasn't the place for this. But Jonouchi felt his heart start to race, a cold chill traveling up his spine, his hands hot and clammy against his cards. He shook his head, drawing a confused look from the kid before him. Jonouchi usually thrived on the cheers from the crowds, but now he felt like he was under a microscope, being picked apart under their watchful gaze.
"They'll sniff you out like the street rat you are."
The cheers grew, mutating into a deafening roar, until all Jonouchi heard was silence.
Well fuck that.
He could feel the anger rising and surging through his veins. Jonouchi laughed to himself a little for being so stupid. No one except Yugi had ever believed in him before. He would have to just believe in himself.
With his resolve renewed, Jonouchi was able to gain some more ground on his next draw, even cornering the kid enough to inflict direct damage. He unleashed a chain of magic cards, but just when he thought he had victory within his grasp, the kid surprised him. One trap card was all it took to undo Jonouchi's efforts, leaving him vulnerable, and everything seemed to fast-forward after that. There was a blinding flare of light, and when it subsided, both Jonouchi and the kid wore matching looks of surprise.
The zero in front of Jonouchi's face flashed in time with the dull beats of his heart.
"That was a really good Duel."
Jonouchi could hear his opponent talking, but the words didn't register. He just stared at his Duel Disk for a second longer than he should have, blinking a few times before the realization of failure finally soaked in. It wasn't like he hadn't tried hard, but Jonouchi knew he had allowed his self-doubt to get to his head.
He glanced up at the stands. Kaiba was no longer in sight.
"Yeah," he finally replied, breaking the silence, "it was a good Duel. Congratulations, kid, you definitely gave me a run for my money."
"Nah man, I totally thought you had me there. I just got lucky, is all," and before Jonouchi could react, the kid grabbed and shaked his hand enthusiastically before running off to get his picture taken.
At least he wasn't an ass about it.
The second place prize money wasn't that much. A mere one hundred thousand yen compared to the first place prize of five hundred thousand, but Jonouchi couldn't really complain. He made more in one day than he would have in two weeks, and that was something to be proud of. At least his father was wrong about dueling being a waste of time. It was paying the bills better than his garage job was.
It just sucked so much losing when Jonouchi knew he should have won that Duel. His cheeks burning, he knew it would bother him for some time before his disappointment would finally subside. At least none of his friends were around to watch him screw up like that.
"You shouldn't have lost your nerve like that."
The familiar and duly unwanted voice sent Jonouchi's hair up on end, and whipping his head back, he scowled when he found Kaiba standing right behind him, his face neutral but eyes giving away his clear disapproval.
"You've gone against much worthier Duelists before, Jonouchi. What was that?"
"Kaiba, if the only reason you're here is to make digs at me, you can keep them to yourself. I'm already doing a fine job of that, trust me," Jonouchi replied tartly.
"I'm not here looking for a fight," Kaiba answered back curtly, "I want to know why you just made such an embarrassment of yourself going up against a complete amateur. I thought you were better than that?"
Jonouchi ran a hand through his hair and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He never got headaches, but it seemed like life just wanted to dump everything on him today. "What do you want me to tell you? We all have bad days. Isn't that what my win against you was—just a bad day?"
"You don't have the excuse of being ill, Jonouchi. If you had won that Duel, you'd be a seven-star by now. Professionals aren't allowed to have 'bad days' in publicly-ranked matches, and you're smart enough to know that by now."
Jonouchi's lips pulled back into a feral grin. With how badly his day was going, he figured he might as well go for broke—there weren't many ways it could possibly get any worse. "You know what, Kaiba? You don't know a damn thing about me. You can go fuck yourself," he spat, turning on his heel to stalk away. He didn't need this.
"I told you I didn't come here looking for a fight, stupid," Kaiba called out as he crossed his arms and sighed rather dramatically with a roll of his eyes, "I have a business proposal for you, if you're not going to be too thick-skulled to cooperate right now."
Jonouchi stopped in his tracks, his fists balled tightly by his sides. He turned his head, not far enough to look behind him, but enough to let Kaiba know he still had his attention. "And what could you ever want from the likes of me?" he said, not really caring but unable to let it go.
"I think you have potential, if you'd just get your head in the game."
Wait, had he heard Kaiba right? Jonouchi's heart skipped a beat, the feeling sinking to his stomach and settling there uncomfortably. He flexed his hands, slowly opening and closing his fists before he turned fully around. "What about it?"
"Do you want to know my proposal or not?" asked Kaiba as he dropped his hip and shook his head like Jonouchi was a confused child who needed further explaining on something that was already a rather simple concept, "I'm looking to sponsor someone. Two-year contract of five hundred thousand yen a month with a three-month-long probationary period. If you don't want it, I can always offer it to someone else. I'm not going to break my back trying to get you to sign it."
Well that was unexpected. Jonouchi gaped at Kaiba, still not quite believing his ears. "But I'm only a six-star," he said dazedly, "You said before-"
"I'm my own boss; I can do whatever I want. Are you interested or not?"
He caught himself before he mindlessly signed his life over, remembering Honda's warning. Crossing his arms in front of him and shifting his weight to one leg, Jonouchi inclined his head and asked, "What's the catch?"
"You play whatever tournaments I sign you up for and win," Kaiba answered in a neutral tone, "That's all there really is to it. And of course, you'll be promoting Kaiba Corporation and take part in whatever commercial work and media I need you participating in, as well as wearing company logos and listening to whatever advice I give you in regards to your deck.
"But there is no 'catch.' This is a business deal, Jonouchi. That's all."
Jonouchi's eyebrows furrowed, his face squeezing together in concentration. Something about the whole deal just didn't sit right with him. Why him, and why now? There were a million questions he wanted to ask Kaiba, but he knew the other was losing his patience.
"You have forty-eight hours to decide," Kaiba interrupted. "If you want the contract, come to the Kaiba Corporation Legal Department. If not, I'm giving it to someone else. Now unless you have anything further to say to me-"
Kaiba turned heel and stalked away, walking much too fast for Jonouchi to say anything in response.
Standing in place, Jonouchi dumbly watched Kaiba retreat into the bowels of the stadium. He was still too shell-shocked to say anything, so he kept his mouth shut and headed toward the exit in deep concentration.
Forty-eight hours to determine the course of the rest of his life. Any smart person would've snapped at the opportunity, but Jonouchi knew Kaiba. Would the money really be worth it? He'd tried countless times to befriend the bastard, only to be burned. Could he really trust the man with his dueling career?
In short, yes. Kaiba was an accomplished Duelist—one of the best in the world. He knew what he was doing, and no one could best him in business matters. But Jonouchi was unsure whether he wanted to become one of Kaiba's investments, or what that all really entailed.
Taking out his cell phone, Jonouchi scrolled through his speed dial before punching the call button. He held his breath as three rings passed, then exhaled in relief as he heard a click. "Hey man, you free? There's something I need to talk to you about…"