The following afternoon, Jonouchi arrived at Kaiba Mansion with a box full of his entire wardrobe. He'd precariously strapped it to the back of his Harley, praying to whatever gods that would listen that it wouldn't teeter over and spill his threadbare and worn clothes all over the streets of Domino. His morning already hadn't gone as planned—his father had actually been up early for once, and so Jonouchi had needed to wait until his father had disappeared to who knows where to pack everything up—so he definitely didn't need any additional hiccups during his day. The last thing he wanted to do was piss Kaiba off for arriving too late.

Jonouchi was surprised that the front gate automatically opened for him when he pulled up, the security guard monitoring the intercom passing him through without a word. Kaiba must have informed them of Jonouchi's new status, apparently. Slowly rolling up to the entrance of the house, Jonouchi killed the engine and popped out the kickstand, leaving the bike to the side of the curved driveway.

Deciding to try his luck again, he hopped up the front steps and pressed on the door; it opened with a small creak. Grinning to himself, he adjusted his grip on the box and shoved his way in, kicking the door closed and pulling off his shoes with his feet. Jonouchi noticed several sets of house shoes laid out, and toeing those on, he took a cursory look around. No one came to greet him, so Jonouchi made his way upstairs, trying his best to retrace the path he'd been led on the day prior.

He got lost a few times, entering wings that looked completely unfamiliar and meeting a couple of dead ends. Just how big was this place, anyway? And who the hell needed to live in a place this big? Huffing, Jonouchi found his way back to the top of the staircase and tried again, his arms starting to ache.

When he arrived at a door that was slightly cracked open, the sounds of a keyboard faint against the reporting of a news anchor, Jonouchi inwardly sighed with relief. Bumping the door open with his hip, he barged into Kaiba's office. "Reporting for duty, boss."

"I'm not done quite yet. Take a seat; I'll be with you shortly."

Jonouchi snorted but complied, dropping the box down haphazardly beside Kaiba's desk and throwing himself into a chair. He shook his arms out and exhaled loudly—while he was in shape, clothes were deceptively heavy.

"You know, Jonouchi," Kaiba said as he broke the silence, "most of my employees call me 'Kaiba-sama' instead of 'boss'..."

"Should've written it into the contract, then," chuckled Jonouchi. He rarely used honorifics as it was—like Kaiba of all people would be gifted with one.

"Hmm. Maybe I should make you known as 'deadbeat,' then. Keep that happy nickname alive..."

Jonouchi rolled his eyes, allowing the comment to slide off him. "I thought you were supposed to be promoting my career, not sabotaging it."

"Fine. How does 'underdog' sound?"

He could feel his eye start to twitch, but Jonouchi tried hard not to blow up just after arriving. Kaiba was just trying to bait him, the fucker. "Hey, it's your marketing decision. Although I don't think it'll stick much after everyone sees my bite," he replied easily, flashing his teeth.

Snorting, Kaiba just rolled his eyes, continuing to type without missing a beat.

"You sound pretty confident over that," he continued, "Have you thought about what you're going to do about your deck since yesterday's little training matches?"

"Like I could afford to lose," Jonouchi laughed. He sat back and cupped his chin in one hand, contemplating Kaiba's question. "Hmm, not really. Although I do feel a little more comfortable with it, but it still isn't the same. You were watching the entire time—have any suggestions?"

"I have some ideas," replied Kaiba, "but it largely depends on your personal dueling style. Are you still striving to continue your gamble-based deck, or are you willing to try new things?"

Jonouchi tapped a finger against his chin, once more lost in thought. "No offense, but I think I want to keep it as close to my original deck as possible. Gamble cards are just my style, so I don't want to lose that."

"Is there anything you'd be willing to change, then?"

"I wouldn't mind changing up the monsters or adding some new magic cards. I think I have pretty good traps, though. I just don't want to end up with a deck that doesn't feel like...me," Jonouchi said.

"What about your clothes," Kaiba pointed out, eyeing Jonouchi up and down without even trying to hide his judgmental stare, "What are you going to do about that? Any ideas?"

Jonouchi quirked an eyebrow—was Kaiba for real? "I thought that's why I was here," he intoned, pointing to the box he'd unceremoniously dumped by Kaiba's desk. "You asked for all my clothes yesterday, so I figured you must have some sort of plan for me."

"I do."

Without explaining further, Kaiba picked up his phone and spoke to someone quickly before moving to stand right in front of Jonouchi. His eyes were intense: blue gaze set sternly upon Jonouchi's form before Kaiba boldly touched a lock of hair off Jonouchi's head, snorting before suddenly snapping his fingers loudly.

All of a sudden a host of servants rushed in, pushing three racks full of clothing, along with two large carts of boots, shoes, bags, belts, hats, and other accessories. Everything appeared expensive, and Jonouchi could make out more than one major label on the tags as he gaped at the stockpile before the servants quickly disappeared again.

"I made an educated guess over your size," remarked Kaiba, "but that doesn't matter. What doesn't fit can be tailored. You can have whatever you want here. I've already approved it. Once you're done, we'll go through what you have already."

Jonouchi stared at Kaiba, trying to process what had just happened. Still in shock, he walked over to one of the racks and absently flicked through the hangers of clothes. "Um, thanks? I don't know if I should be appreciative or creeped out by the amount of thought you put into this…"

The clothes were all things that would grab Jonouchi's attention at the mall but he never had the money to afford. They had a modern and urban flair without appearing too stuffy, still keeping his relaxed style but with a little more sophistication and much better quality. The jeans were slightly different than his usual style, though—they seemed to have a closer fit and lower rise. Pulling a pair off the rack, he examined the size—a perfect match—and eyed Kaiba. "So what, do I gotta try all these on now?"

"Whichever you plan on keeping, yes."

"Okay…" Reaching for the hem of his shirt, he tugged it up a few inches before stopping abruptly. "Wait, aren't you gonna...y'know, leave?"

Kaiba sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically like Jonouchi had been a child saying a silly thing. "We're both men, Jonouchi. Don't be such a girl. Besides, you have a lot of clothes to get through, and I'm not going to kick myself off my computer because you're all shy about being seen in your underwear. Grow up."

Jonouchi scowled at Kaiba, still a bit scandalized and slightly irritated at being called immature. He didn't recall signing his privacy away in that contract… "Fine, whatever," he grumbled, tugging his shirt off and tossing it over the top of his chair. He reached for the first shirt on the closest rack, examining it before pulling it off its hanger.

"You don't need to make such a show about it either," snickered Kaiba as he flashed his eyes up quickly and smirked.

Snorting, Jonouchi pulled the shirt on, smoothing it across his torso. "Yeah, I should charge you extra for it."

Kaiba didn't reply. His focus returned to his computer, eyes stuck to the screen as the sound of light typing continued.

Feeling a little more at ease now that Kaiba didn't seem to be paying much attention to him, Jonouchi decided to get on with the little fashion show. The faster he was able to work his way through the racks, the less time he had to spend traipsing around Kaiba's study in his underwear. He slipped out of his house shoes, kicking them aside before hesitating, fingering the top button of his jeans. Deciding to just get it over with, he popped the button and unzipped the pants, brusquely pushing them down and stepping out of them, leaving them pooled on the floor.

Glancing up for a second, Kaiba took a quick look right as his continuous typing suddenly stopped, the rhythm breaking before he caught himself and began focusing on his work again. When Jonouchi turned and looked at Kaiba confusedly, the latter's face was neutral; there were no signs of blushing, nor did his eyes look anything but indifferent.

He must be over-sensitive, then. The slight pause in Kaiba's typing caught Jonouchi off-guard, but Kaiba appeared to be doing nothing more than working on his computer—he was intently looking at his screen, fingers clacking against the keys.

Whatever. Grabbing a new pair of jeans, he bent to step one leg into them. As expected, it was a little harder to get into these—the material clung against the muscles of his calf, and he had to tug the leg up in stages before he got it to his knee. He stepped into the other leg with trepidation, duplicating the process before fixing Kaiba with an exasperated look. "Kaiba, I'm sure you noticed, but I don't exactly wear shit this tight. I mean, geez, I can barely get these up my legs."

"But you did get them on," Kaiba snarked. "As long as you don't get fat anytime soon, I don't see a problem. Besides, skinny jeans will make your ass look better. Don't complain so much."

Jonouchi snorted loudly, wiggling the jeans up over his hips with some effort. He was relieved he was actually able to zip them closed. "Psh, as if. You didn't tell me that selling my ass was part of your marketing scheme." He brushed his hands over the front of the pants, bending his knees a little to test the stretch and running his hands over the back pockets.

"It's more a personal taste of mine, you could say..."

"Huh," Jonouchi remarked and he continued to test out the pants, "Well, some of us guys prefer our balls to have some space to breathe." If this was what cotton felt like, Jonouchi sure as hell didn't know how Kaiba dealt with wearing skin-tight leather on the regular.

"And some just go commando," remarked Kaiba as he finally looked up and laughed, his eyes flashing darkly at Jonouchi before he folded his arms and dropped his chin into the palm of his hand, "Not that I'm suggesting you do that. What you do with your genitals is none of my business, but I'm sure you'll find some way to cope with the change."

Jonouchi felt a shiver trill up his spine. "Ugh, I really didn't need to know that," he muttered, turning his face away from Kaiba. "But I guess these aren't so bad, just different." It seemed the general shift in fashion was toward tight-fitting pants, and Jonouchi was sure Kaiba wouldn't make him look like a clown. He would get used to it.

"I guess this shirt's okay," he said, mainly to himself. He pulled it off and tossed it over the rack, reaching for the next.

"You're so wide in the shoulders, I had to buy American brands for them," said Kaiba as he looked up again briefly, "although I frequently do the same thing for my own clothes. I'm surprised your hips are narrow enough to fit Japanese jeans."

"I guess it comes with being half," Jonouchi surmised as he slipped the shirt over his head, "You get a mix of both here and there. My old man's pretty broad."

"Fascinating."

Jonouchi hummed under his breath as he continued to work his way through the selection of clothes. He was surprised most seemed to fit him well—only a few button-down shirts needed any tailoring, and only two pairs of shoes didn't fit. Kaiba was freakishly good at assessing based off observation, apparently. Jonouchi got all the way through the last rack when he noticed that the last piece was a formal business suit.

The light gray material was substantive yet soft. The white Oxford shirt had been pressed and starched, and Jonouchi nearly snorted when he noticed its subtle sheen. A black silk tie had been selected to finish it off. Stripping out of the ensemble he currently had on, Jonouchi slipped the shirt on first, not really caring that he was standing around in his boxers. The pants came next, and although the fit was trim, they were comfortable while still being stylish. He threaded the belt through the loops, nearly snorting again when he noticed the KC emblem on the buckle. The jacket soon followed, and then Jonouchi draped the tie over his neck, staring down at it while holding both ends in either hand. Crossing one side over the other experimentally, he fiddled with it before becoming frustrated and letting out a long sigh.

"Come here, you oaf."

Kaiba got up from his chair and gestured Jonouchi over like someone's irritated mother, his eyes displaying a crossed expression as he sighed loudly. Once Jonouchi was standing within arm's distance, he closed the gap and expertly did the man's tie, weaving the tails over each other and securing the knot into place. Once Kaiba was done, he lightly flicked Jonouchi's hair before waving him away and returning to his desk chair.

"I suggest you figure out how to do that yourself, since you'll be expected to come to Kaiba Corporation's formal functions."

Toying with the dangling cloth, Jonouchi inspected the suit before turning back to Kaiba. It was surprisingly comfortable—no wonder Kaiba didn't seem to mind wearing them all the time; his own must be unbelievably nicer than the one Jonouchi was currently wearing. "So, how do I look?" Jonouchi asked, spreading his arms out to the sides.

"Infinitely better than you did before," Kaiba answered without hesitation, "Not in small thanks to my help."

Jonouchi merely gave Kaiba a flat look before turning his attention back to the suit, criss-crossing his arms back and forth in front of him, bouncing a little on his heels. "I've never worn a suit before, so I'm not really sure how they're supposed to look and feel... It's a little strange."

"Sometimes strange is good."

"I suppose." Moving forward to Kaiba's desk, Jonouchi bent to open the large cardboard box beside it. "So now that I've gone along and played dress-up, I guess it's your turn to go through these," he said, taking out a few items.

"Well, now that you know what you can have, you tell me what you want to keep," answered Kaiba with a sigh. "I'm not going to go looking through your nasty clothes. Use some common sense and figure out for yourself what's worth keeping."

Lowering his eyes, Jonouchi sneered at Kaiba, "If you were going to have me look through these myself, then why the hell did I have to drag them all over here in the first place?"

"So I can give my consent afterward."

Groaning, Jonouchi shuffled back over to the racks of clothing. "Since I'm getting this whole makeover thing, I guess this means I shouldn't even bother changing back into my old clothes, huh?" He grabbed a pair of light jeans that were a bit looser-fitting than the rest and a random T-shirt, carefully removing the suit and putting it back on its hangers.

"I don't have a problem with what you wore here, Jonouchi. But you have to ask yourself, what's the reason for keeping them when you have better things now? Your old pants were worn-out and fading, and your shirt barely fit you. Besides just being difficult, what's your reason for keeping them, hmm?"

Kaiba looked up, his eyes intense and searching for a good explanation. Jonouchi immediately felt uncomfortable under that gaze, his eyes shifting back towards his heap of old clothes before he swallowed. His throat felt dry.

"...Because they're mine. Do I have to have a better reason?" Jonouchi had bought them with his own hard-earned money. Had selected them—some even during outings when Atem had still been around. They might've been cheap, crappy clothes, but they had memories attached to them—every rip, hole, and stain.

"Fine. Be difficult, then. Just don't wear them while working," instructed Kaiba dismissively.

Jonouchi felt anxiety well in the bottom of his stomach. Great, second day on the job and he was fucking up already. "No, it's fine… You're right. Most of this stuff's old or full of grease, anyway," he said quietly. He changed into the new clothes wordlessly, returning to his box after he was done. Jonouchi rummaged through it, pulling out a hoodie, two T-shirts, and the green jacket he'd worn during Duelist Kingdom, where his whole adventure as a Duelist really began. One shirt had been a gift from Shizuka, the other the one he'd worn during Battle City. He dug around a little deeper before recovering his sneakers. They were old but still in relatively good condition, only slight fraying around the knife slit in the tongue, but most importantly, they were his lucky charm. "I'll just keep these."

Kaiba said nothing. He turned his attention back towards the monitor in front of him, his eyes giving away his slight irritation as he began to type in earnest again. Really, Jonouchi was thankful for the new clothes. It was the kind of thing he'd always wished he could afford himself, but dealing with Kaiba's attitude was wearing.

Also, what would his father think when he started walking around looking like some uptown yuppie?

He'd just have to deal with it when the time came. Jonouchi was used to deflecting his father's attention, and besides, he was an adult now. He wouldn't have to justify himself so much (at least he hoped), and if looking like an uptown yuppie meant five-hundred thousand yen in his pocket each month, Jonouchi could adjust. Not that his father had to know that…

Grabbing a random backpack off a shelf, Jonouchi stuffed his old items into it and set it upon the chair. "So…" he began nervously, "are we done here?"

"Yes."

"...Okay then." Shouldering his bag, he eyed the racks of clothing once more. "Is it okay if I leave these here for now? I can take a few things, but I don't think I can manage carrying all of this back on my bike." That, and his father would definitely question him if he showed up with a box full of expensive clothing, not to mention a freaking suit from Express, of all places.

"Pick a room here and keep it there for later. I don't really care what you do."

Jonouchi grabbed a few items off the racks and packed them into the backpack, as well. "Seeing as I have no idea around this maze you call a mansion, how about a little help? Unless you want me peeping into all the rooms in this hallway," he asserted.

"There's a free room to the left of this office," sighed Kaiba, "Just pick that one. Unless you can't handle four feet down the hallway, you won't get lost."

Fighting the urge to make an obscene gesture at Kaiba, Jonouchi dropped his bag and hooked an arm around one of the racks, wheeling it over to the designated room. It took him a good five minutes to relocate everything, and Jonouchi almost regretted not keeping at least one pair of his old jeans—he was still acclimating to the tightness of the new ones, and the restriction made manual labor difficult.

Returning to Kaiba's office, he reclaimed his bag, touching two fingers to his temple in a mock salute, "See you later, then."

"Yeah, I'm sure I will," snickered Kaiba as he briefly smirked just when Jonouchi was walking halfway out of the door, "but hopefully with clothes on the whole time, for your sake."

Jonouchi was more successful on his exodus from the mansion, only making one wrong turn before quickly realizing his error. Strangely, he still didn't see any staff members, and so he silently let himself out, pulling on his shoes and shutting the door behind him. He was glad that he didn't have to balance a heavy box on his return trip home, but leaving more than half of his new clothes behind only meant that Jonouchi would have to make a number of return visits to Kaiba's house.

The thought actually didn't bother him so much. His past few interactions with Kaiba had been pleasant, overall. Kickstarting his bike, Jonouchi slowly made his way back onto the main streets of Domino. Despite Kaiba's rather gruff attitude, Jonouchi truly was grateful for the new clothes, even if he hadn't had the opportunity to pick them out himself. They still had matched his personality and taste, and Jonouchi acknowledged that Kaiba must have put considerable thought into each piece.

It wasn't until Jonouchi had arrived at his neighborhood that Kaiba's parting words finally struck him as odd. What did Kaiba even mean when he said "with clothes on," for Jonouchi's own sake?

He decided not to ponder too much on it. Probably Kaiba just trying to fuck with him yet again.

No one was home when Jonouchi stepped inside his apartment. For once, the neighborhood was relatively quiet. He didn't hear sirens or any loud screaming echoing through the alleyway, and lying on the broken sofa he'd picked up at a pawn shop, Jonouchi relaxed and shut his eyes.

Kaiba had given him so many clothes. There were more than he knew what to do with. Somehow he'd need to transfer everything home and manage to hide it from his father. No doubt, Jonouchi senior would act out if he found all that designer name crap in Jonouchi's room with the tags still on. He'd probably think Jonouchi had stolen them.

Or worse.

Sighing, Jonouchi combed his hands through his hair and grumbled. If only he lived by himself. Now that he had the money, he could move uptown. Central would be nice, and he could afford a decent apartment. A simple studio would be enough for him, but leaving his dad would be wrong. They didn't get along, but he was all Jonouchi had.

Jonouchi hadn't realized that he'd dozed off until he was awakened by a sharp stinging in his right cheek. Eyes flying open, he grabbed his face with one hand and flailed around with the other. "What the fuck!" The stench of cheap whiskey assaulted his senses. Double fuck.

"Oyaji, what the hell! You can't just go around smacking people like that," Jonouchi scowled, rubbing his face. Sitting upright, an envelope slid off his chest and onto the floor, but he ignored it. He had bigger issues to deal with than sating his curiosity.

Jonouchi senior was stumbling around the small apartment, muttering darkly to himself. Jonouchi watched him warily, unsure if it was a smart idea to engage or not, or even if he wanted to. Sure, he could always lock himself in his room, but there was no guarantee his father wouldn't bust the door down or have the cops called on him for trying. Taking a deep breath, Jonouchi decided to just face the problem head-on and hopefully get whatever had his father in a mood over with.

His father was crouching in the kitchen, head and shoulders almost entirely inside the cabinet underneath the sink. He'd knocked several items over and disemboweled much of the contents of the cabinet itself, various bottles and jars askew, cleaning fluid slowly seeping across the kitchen floor.

"What're you…" Jonouchi started but was interrupted by a sharp guffaw, his father shimmying backwards and out from under the space. He was chuckling almost menacingly, and Jonouchi swallowed hard when he noticed what his father was clutching to his chest.

He thought he had cleared out the apartment long ago when his father had first sought help, but clearly long-term rehabilitation had never been one of his father's goals.

Cracking open a can of cheap beer, Jonouchi's father drank deeply from it before wiping his mouth on the back of his arm, the other still grasping onto the six-pack possessively. Jonouchi grimaced. He would have one hell of a time prying those out of his father's hold, if he could even manage that.

His father's eyes narrowed, finally focusing on Jonouchi. "I'll tell you what, son," he began, his mouth twisting up into a smirk, "never fuckin' trust a woman." He paused to take another swig from the can, tipping it towards Jonouchi in a mock-toast. "Bitches are all banshees that'll bleed ya fuckin' dry. Even when they're done with ya, they'll still try to lead you around by the balls."

Jonouchi sighed, cocking an eyebrow. "Yeah? What now, get played by some hooker again?"

Jonouchi senior snorted loudly, slapping one of his thighs as he laughed boorishly. "Hookers are one 'n done, son. They're th' safest kinda woman, but don't trust 'em, either." He crushed the can in his hand and tossed it aside, reaching for a new one. "No, your father," he emphasized the title, "is getting played by the biggest fuckin' whore of 'em all—the one you think is safe and even fuckin' take down the aisle." He snorted around his drink.

"What does Kaa-san have to do with any of this," Jonouchi ventured hesitantly. He was pretty sure entertaining the enraged tirades of a drunkard probably wasn't the smartest thing to do.

"Tch. Fuckin' cunt thinks she can control me...use me...after she threw me away like fucking trash. Kiss my fuckin' ass…" his father grumbled.

Feeling his blood begin to boil, Jonouchi had had enough. He tried not to take what his father said to heart, and he was used to bearing the brunt of his father's anger, but it was another story altogether for his father to insult his mother like that in front of him. She was still his mother, even if she had abandoned him as well.

"Alright, I think you've had enough," Jonouchi said, stooping down to yank his father's arm. But his father was a deadweight, refusing to budge. He still gripped the beer can tightly, its contents sloshing onto Jonouchi's new shirt. Irritated, Jonouchi smacked his father's hand sharply, flinging the drink onto the floor.

That had done it.

With almost hyper agility, Jonouchi senior sprang forth, shoving Jonouchi back hard and then twisting his fists onto Jonouchi's shirt. He loomed heavily over Jonouchi, beady eyes narrowing to slits. "The fuck you think you are, kid?"

"The person keeping a roof over your head, you stupid-ass drunk."

Sure, it was his father who was pinning him against a wall, and he was stronger than Jonouchi could remember, but he wasn't going to let his new clothes become ruined. Not from the drunken idiot who stole his money and used his things and then disappeared for days because he got fired from a job.

Jonouchi was sick of it. He grabbed his father's wrists, twisting them hard enough until the grip was loose, and then once he was safe from having his shirt collar ripped, he gave his father a swift punch under the ribs and knocked him in the back, successfully grounding him.

Jonouchi senior fell like a ton of rocks, hitting the floor hard as a groan echoed in the room. His eyes were closed, and for once, Jonouchi didn't feel so bad about putting him there. Maybe now that he was passed out, he'd shut up and go to sleep.

Sighing, Jonouchi pushed back his hair again before bending down to grab under his father's armpits. He hoisted him up onto the couch and took off his shoes, placing them by the front door. He frowned; his father always ignored the house shoes. Why, Jonouchi never quite understood.

"Why did I have to get such a useless drunk for a father?" he mused out loud. There was no answer besides loud snoring.

Rolling his eyes, Jonouchi returned to the large six-pack that sat in the kitchen. He grit his teeth, almost tempted for a moment to just drink all of them himself just for having to deal with his dad, but he knew better. Opening the tops of the cans, Jonouchi dumped all the contents out into the sink before throwing them into a bag for returning back to the grocery store. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd get a few cents out of them.

Once finished, Jonouchi locked himself into the safety of his bedroom. At least now his dad couldn't surprise him awake by attacking him in the middle of the night. But by the looks of things, it appeared that Jonouchi senior was down for the count and wouldn't be up until morning. By then, he'd be sober and embarrassed at having acted out the night before, and Jonouchi would be met with half-apologies before his dad would disappear for work or wherever he decided to go that day.

No wonder his mother got sick of his father. Jonouchi could hardly deal with the cycle himself anymore.

But in the morning, Jonouchi awoke to an empty apartment. The couch was vacant, and checking his father's room proved the same. Jonouchi was surprised that he hadn't heard his father leave, but at least his old man had gathered enough sense to lock the door behind him.

He'd probably scuttled away back to the bars, to drink and gamble away money he didn't have. It was frustrating to deal with, but Jonouchi was determined to not let it ruin his day. If his father wanted to add to his already long list of poor life decisions, then fuck him.

Dropping onto the couch, Jonouchi pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and counted downwards from ten, exhaling slowly. When he opened his eyes, a strip of white by his foot caught his attention, and he half-heartedly fumbled around for it until it was in his hands.

Oh yeah, it was what his father had smacked him with the previous night. Flipping the plain envelope around, it took Jonouchi two reads before it dawned on him who the sender was.

Kawai.