Chapter 5

Media

Ryo slowly recovers his senses, the numbness on his fingers becoming a gradual prickle as blood gets back to his limbs. His gaze fully opens to the ceiling, where some lamps are imbued, the icy carpet underneath his whole body.

A faint breeze blows from the side, he can hear the sound of paper flapping, his head fluffed by some sort of pillow, his overcoat covering him like a blanket up to the neck.

Who…?

He turns his head to the side, he can see Rie's legs very close, her knees, his eyes roaming up, meeting up her concerned blue orbs. She stops swinging the pamphlet to ventilate him, her eyebrows furrowed up as he stares blankly at her. He supports his elbow on the floor, then sits up in a single move, his coat falling onto his lap.

"This again?" he rubs his hand slowly onto his forehead, messing his hair along. "How long was I out?"

He gapes, remembering again, he'd never be able to get a sound answer for that question. Her hands fling in the air aplenty as if asking whether he's fine.

With a scoff, he grabs his piece of clothing and stands up, her fingers latching around his arm firmly, trying to help him.

"Let go of me. I can stand on my own."

She recoils instantly as he starts dressing himself, his eyes roll in an annoyed tone, identifying the surroundings: there's a cushion of couch on the floor, it was the one he used as a pillow, besides the fact she undressed his coat, it seems she wasn't strong enough to pull him up to the couch.

Is it just exhaustion? Stress? Am I having those episodes more frequently because of my bad habits?

It started some weeks ago, he also had a sudden loss of all senses. By the time he woke up, he was on the ground and he predicted only a few minutes passed. Then, it happened again last week, for a longer time and now.

Could his body not handle the amount of underground duels? No, even if this is the case, he can't just stop, not until he's back into the major league, at least. A slight tug on his sleeve drags him out of his daydreaming. Rie hunches her shoulders confusedly as if to ask again about him.

"Would you stop grabbing me?"

He voices himself visibly bothered and uncomfortable as his brows angle down more to reprimand her, she steps back startled, averting her gaze frustrated, whirling around and walking away. Is it much to ask if he's okay? That insipid face of his is starting to get on her nerves.

Letting out a dull sigh, he plops onto the couch, massaging his temples with some fingers until a muffled noise hits the table ahead of him, he's taken aback by it.

Rie just slammed a glass of water there, so furiously that some droplets flew to the sides. He can understand all the words she had to say by her expression alone as she squeezes her eyes full in contempt for his early rudeness: "Drink some water, moron."

She takes a seat across from him, on the padded chair, folding her arms together, pouting and staring crankily at him.

"I'm fine," he replies uninterested, taking a sip of water.

Leaning on, he opens the briefcase atop the table, taking a deck out of there. Is it possible he'll spend yet another night looking at his cards? How much in love with them can he be?

A short huff escapes her nostrils but soon her brows undo all the angry knots, giving place to worry. She doesn't need to be a doctor to know it's abnormal to just collapse out of nowhere, on top of that, he has those deep lines under his eyes as if he hadn't slept in ages, which considering the place they are, makes sense.

Those men in black appeared at her workplace and requested her cooperation, took her to a car and here she is, at this hotel for the second day in a row. What she can't understand is what a duelist is doing in the underground. He isn't indebted too, is he? Or he wouldn't be paying for her. Then why?

After a few minutes of sitting, to make sure he wouldn't pass out again, Ryo propels himself up with both hands.

"You stay right here. I'll be back soon to talk."

Her arms unfold, anxiety pouring out from her posture as she follows him with eyes. He strides to the bathroom, she can hear a click of it being locked after. Does this mean he will finally explain himself? Not much was said by him last night besides the verbal agreement.

The sound of water running makes her flinch, she lies both hands on the armrest of the chair, looking at the source. Is he taking a shower?

I want a nice shower too… I didn't even have time to go home before coming here…

Melting on her seat, her head lays on her arms while listening to the calming, muffled noise of the water cascading, bored at the nothingness of the room. She opens her coat slightly, looking at the set of pink lingerie of the day, and if she thought the last one was bad with half of her buttocks sticking out, this one can top it with more skin free for show. She sighs in dismay.

Once more, she had to choose among the lesser evil. Can she even marry after being seen in such immoral clothes yesterday? More than that, can she even have a normal life after getting involved with this shady mafia and being labelled as a sex worker? They have those unsightly pictures to keep a leash on her.

Snuggling herself under the coat again, her nape bends up, looking at the ceiling. Maybe she could bring some change of normal clothes and perhaps a few books to read too since this might be the perfect way to spend her time. She wouldn't be able to sleep anyways.

No matter how much of a duel nut he is, he's still a man, right?

Her gaze swaps back to the table, his briefcase is still there, open like a treasure chest, taunting her. A pinch of curiosity glimmers in her eyes. Her feet unconsciously and sneakily lead her there, as if put under a spell to check it out.

No, no, Rie, you should stop.

She sways her head disapproving of her own actions, her fingertips grazing on her lips almost trying to rub out words as she thinks deeply.

But he said he's a pro duelist, right? I wonder how the world of pro dueling works… I never paid much attention to it. Haru was also blabbering about it.

Before she knows, she sits on the couch, the seat deflating with her weight, making a sound of air blowing out.

What would a pro duelist even carry around?

Sliding the case her way, she inspects it. There's a plain duel disk occupying almost all of the bottom area, an obvious choice, she conjectures. Then, to the side of it there's some velvety dark-blue padding and a strange metal collar with a spike on each side. She gulps, looking at the red glassy looking circle in the middle of it, gasping surprised upon seeing the upper half of the case was also filled with similar collars of different sizes.

What is this?

Her hand hesitates, its shadow looming over the collar as she approaches it with her fingers, taking a hold of it. It's heavy and seems to be made of pure, dark-grey metal, she concludes after lifting it up to her eye-level, arching a brow and moving it around to see it from different perspectives. This doesn't look like it has anything related to dueling.

"You shouldn't touch it."

Ryo's frivolous, placid voice soars from right behind her, a chill creeps up her whole spine, letting go of the collar instantly, it strikes her toes hard, she grimaces in pain, her foot curling back as a slight current of electricity flows. Her feet instinctively bend up the couch, her mouth opening in a soundless yell.

"Do you have the habit of spying on people's belongings?"

He criticizes in a berating tone, with crossed arms and a stern frown. Shaking off his head as he comes around the couch and takes the collar from the floor, putting it back on its original place, whacking the briefcase closed.

The towel around his neck almost falls off, his hair is still dripping wet, she didn't even hear him coming or when the shower stopped.

It takes a millisecond to remind himself that her lack of screaming is due to her issues. His gaze landing on her figure, she's still petrified, her hands stopped midair, sheer terror carved in her expression.

She knew it was too good to be true that this man would just pay her debt. Electric devices? What is he thinking of doing with that? And why is he carrying it around like it's part of a duelists' must-haves? That added to his collapsing out of nowhere and the fact he has huge ties to the underground to even have options such as buying services from the pleasure industry. He can only be insane.

Is he going to test something unspeakable on her? No one would notice if she died anyways, not like her fifteen year old brother could do much to find out what happened to her after she dies and her father doesn't care.

Her thoughts are disrupted by a muffled chuckle, Ryo's chest stuffing with air, puffing up and down, his hand coming to his stomach. He had to get a hold of himself while laughing as if her panic was the funniest piece of comedy ever.

"Did you think I-" he stops between laughs, hardly containing himself.

Is he mocking me again?

Her shoulder slump as the tension dispels, hearing him laughing lowly, but coarsely.

"Don't you worry, those aren't for you," he continues between sniggers, startling her as he could read exactly just where her thoughts were going.

For who are they, then?

Her nose crinkles, puzzled at him. He takes a deep breath, to speak again, this time more collected, all the previous amused humor vanishing from his face as if it hadn't been there to begin with as he gazes into her eyes.

"This is what you get for messing around. Do not touch my belongings without permission, do you get it?" she nods in uncertainty, wary of his temper changes.

His glare lands briefly on her, running away right after as if he couldn't keep it for long, a flash of the pictures he'd seen earlier that day surfacing, he wishes he wouldn't have seen those. Rubbing the towel onto his freshly washed hair, attempting to shoo off those thoughts, the smell of shampoo and humidity spreads in the air.

"Do you have no survival instinct?" he starts dryly. "Attacking someone who had a weapon, winding up here. And you dare mess with someone's belongings while not knowing how they'd react. You'll end up dead in this underworld if you keep going like this. Learn some discretion."

Says the guy who just fell literally onto my hands. I could be a murder.

Lowering her unsettled gaze, she embraces her own legs, shrinking under that scolding tone of his, he drops onto a seat at the other opposite of the couch.

"I got your contract ready, you'll need to come here only for as long as your debt is unpaid," he switches the topic expertly, getting her attention. "You can just bring your own stuff here too, like clothes or so…"

He spares a glance up and down, analyzing her coldly. She fastens the coat entangled around her at all times, scowling at him in response, almost offended by him.

"Or a cellphone," he adds, putting his own onto the table, pushing it her way. "Isn't it important for you to communicate?"

Taking it as a sign he's lending it to her again, she grabs it reluctantly, her hunched shoulders as she types so intently are kinda cute, but her conflicted, feebly irked expression tells she doesn't have kind words to tell him.

[I'm sorry for messing with your belongings,] is what she writes, but her crooked brows don't show any vestiges of regret at all.

"Don't do it again."

[And I wasn't trying to harass you.]

"What do you mean?"

[I'm not "grabbing" you because I want to harass you,] she quotes spitefully. [I will never be able to call out your name, you know? I need to touch people to call their attention, tug or pull their shoulder on clothes. It's not harassment!]

It strikes him again. Communication works very differently with Rie. He never had to deal with someone who couldn't speak, it was always people who could, but did not want to, people who wouldn't even try to approach him to say a word. Ironically enough, even though she can't speak, she's the one talking the most. Closing his gawking jaw, he observes as she frantically and grumpily types.

[Plus you fainted not long ago! Is it abnormal to help someone who just passed out cold to get up?! If it bothers you so much, though, I'll keep my distance. We don't need to talk or interact. At all.]

For someone who says they don't need to talk, she writes very fast. Also, he forgets she's not one of his fans, what's with not even knowing his name and profession. If she was any of those swooning fangirls, she'd either have passed out after meeting him in person or made a move on him, no doubt.

[Lastly, I don't have a cellphone.]

"In this day and age?"

He casts shade on her statement with a glance alone, she bites her lips, as if unwilling to admit, but honesty is all she can reply to him with.

[I sold it last month to help pay the bills.]

"That can't be good," his vague, unfazed tone only adds to her anxiety.

[And you should see a doctor, fainting like that isn't normal,] she risks throwing in the advice. [Also, you're looking skinny, you should eat more.]

"Oh, I'm flattered you do pay attention to my body type," he spits sarcastically.

T-That's not it! I wasn't…

Her face flushes instantly, her hands frantically moving as she reinforces a "no" with her head. Her words came completely off, but she's not flirting.

"Were you looking at me while I was asleep?"

With an energetic shake of her head, she tries to deny it, but he's unconvinced, letting out a huff. Squinting her eyes in pure shame, she winces, how does she explain she noticed his slim build when he accidentally plopped onto her? And that's not the main point, but the fact his looks seem overall unhealthy? There's no good way to say that without being misinterpreted, right?

Great, Rie! Now you made yourself look like a weirdo.

"Don't try anything funny with me."

Frowning at her, establishing the boundaries there, stretching a hand to ask for his smartphone back, he let his guard down because of her innocent and seemingly harmless appearance, but that was careless. She returns it without any complaint, and he resumes the briefing:

"I'll have the staff know they should let you bring your own belongings, and you can bring anything in, if it's not something that will disturb or harm me, of course. My conditions remain the same: don't bother me," he gives emphasis to the last sentence, to make sure she understands. "I won't ask anything else of you."

Turning on the TV and zapping through the channels, he stops when the sound of voices hooting and screaming happens, the screen showing a stadium, it's the reprise of a duel that took place earlier today. One he missed. Crossing his legs one over another, his stare is transfixed there.

She tries to see what's so interesting about it, but it's only a duel stadium, there's a duelist waiting on one side. The crowd goes crazy at the entrance of the contestant, announced by the narrator: Edo Phoenix.

Isn't that the other guy from…?

She takes a side peek at his expression, he's so concentrated in it that she can almost feel an aura pouring out of him. Are all duelists this intense? Well, it's his job, after all. Not like she would know since she doesn't even have a permanent job.

[And here it comes! One of the best Elemental Heroes!]

The narrator's voice from the TV brings her eyes immediately to the scene as a monster is destroyed, getting immersed into the reprise.

Hours ago,

On the side of the screen,

Kaiba dome overflows with guests, people have big signs with the names of their favorite duelists, some hearts and cheering words; the whole noise makes the ambience sound. Edo tugs on his tie, adjusting it, a confident smile on his face when he holds his hand out, his silver bangs shoved to the side:

"Phoenix Enforcer! Attack!"

The other duelist, a black-haired young man screeches as his open field is attacked by the burly half-green, half-red monster whose wings spread as he flies towards the target. The duelist flinches, scared at the hologram as if it would cut his flesh, screaming and squinting his eyes when it slashes him with sharp claws, like he felt real pain, his life points decreasing to zero.

He falls to his knees while Edo is applauded and cheered upon, raising his hand at the spectators, a bright smile as he greets around. Closing his eyes as he walks past the loser, going to the sides of the stadium, as soon as his figure is overlapped by the shadows of the side-stage, an assistant runs alongside him, offering a bottle of water.

"Thanks."

He says politely, uncapping it and drinking while walking across the long, grey corridor made of concrete, steps halting when his pockets quake, he bobs his head signing for the assistant to go ahead, and with a nod, the man rushes out.

Edo pulls out his flip cellphone that had been put on silent mode before the duel, his blue eyes narrow seeing the name on it and answering to the call, resuming his walk at slow steps.

"Saiou, the ending was exactly like you predicted, though, given the level of that duelist, it's not that impressive."

[You should concentrate on going to the duel academy now. Like I've told you, there's much for you to learn there.]

"Sure. My week is booked and I'll have an autograph session next week before I can travel and attend classes again."

[Not in classes,] he remarks.

"Right, it's about the people I meet there, but, hey," he leans onto the wall for a moment. "I've been wondering for a while, Saiou: why do you suppose your predictions say so?"

[It's unusual for you to be intrigued.]

"It may be a useless question to ask, but I was curious."

[On a personal level, I think we all have plenty to learn by interacting with different people, and by doing so, we can unlock more of our potential as people. Like when we first met and befriended.]

"Wow, that's a better answer than I expected," he scoffs, not in derision, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You're right. The classes are complete basics, but I guess I'm looking forward to releasing more of my potential as a duelist, whatever that means."

[I'll see you later, Edo.]

"See you later too."

He shrugs off, ending the call and going out of the somber corridor to the artificial lights outside, waving and smiling at the cameras, hearing the flashes as pictures are taken and a swarm of reporters comes around, many microphones invading his personal space.

This exposition to the media is a tiresome part of being a duelist in the pro leagues, but he has to do his best and keep up the image. The journalists ask questions, one speaking over the other, until a single speech shuts everyone down:

"Mr. Edo Phoenix," the woman reads a note written beforehand, switching glances between it and the teenager. "Accordingly to some sources, you were seen leaving the house of a young woman late at night yesterday. Who is this mysterious woman, a lover?"

Edo's expression freezes, no emotion bursting out, his eyes, however hide the seething fury, as he was trained to never let his true emotions come up in the camera when those situations happen. They have to be kidding, the only person he visited last week was…

"Is that true?!"

A fuss occurs as more and more reporters question the same thing, pictures of him being taken as bodyguards come and try to placate the people, almost touching the duelist and forcing him to reply. And all he can think of amidst the chaos, after having such a tiring day is:

I hate tabloids.

A few days later,

Rie is squatted down on a storage room of sorts, her short jeans pants a palm above the ankles appearing along her white shirt, an apron tied around the front, embroidered with the brand of the convenience store she works at: a trio of red and green lines above each other.

She takes some boxes from the ground and organizes them on the long and tall brown shelves both in front and behind her, a metallic door many meters to her right. It's been a few days and she was called again to that fancy hotel only once after that, nonetheless to say, she didn't communicate past the short conversation with that duelist, he was really zealous about watching duels and even watching old matches by putting in some DVDs on the player hidden inside ne of the doors of the TV rack. Maybe duelists have it harder than she'd imagine for a profession revolving around card games.

It works for her too, but what are his reasons for paying humongous amounts of money just to "have peace" as he stated? Her eyes look at the tag on one of the boxes, until a voice startles her, coming from the entrance:

"Hey, I've brought something!" a man in a similar, but bigger apron than hers drops a huge stack of books tied together with a rope, a thud as it falls, spreading a cloud of dust to the sides. "This one pile is just trash, though. Some old magazines the owner gathered to throw away all at once! It's burnable! And there's more."

He comes a few time, bringing a bunch of stashes, buckling his lips inward in pity and opening his arms to show all the work.

Nodding, she wobbles her hands to dissipate the dirt floating around before picking up the first stash with difficulty, her eyes squinting as she blows out air, carrying it towards the door, opening the knob with her elbow. Sunlight from outside basking the whole alley, a trashcan by the left of the door.

Without much thought, she comes close and drops the weight, repeating the process until all of them are out. Wiping the sweat with an arm before stopping for a moment, she can hear the cars in the background, and the constant, muffled chatting of people from the main street perpendicular to the alley.

Why does he even gather this many before throwing it away?

Her gaze lingers on the stash of paper, blinking in awe, her lips splitting in a short breath when she sees the cover, kneeling on the ground. It's a profile image of Ryo Marufuji standing proudly, his gaze cast ahead determined, but he's using different clothes and it talks about a duel in the pro leagues. It's very outdated, though, four months ago.

Looking around, she snatches the magazine, the owner was going to throw it anyways, it's not stealing, right? The headline at the cover isn't the friendliest: "Fallen from grace: Kaiser Ryo, the disappointment of the decade?!"

Could they be more dramatic?

Skimming through the pages, she stops by the article featuring Ryo, reading it in her mind.

"After a brilliant start in the pro leagues, Ryo Marufuji (18), popularly known as Kaiser Ryo was undefeated for ten consecutive duels, but as a stellar rise comes, a stellar fall follows. During his first duel against another pro-league newcomer, who'd been on the run for at least twenty duels, Edo Phoenix (15), started an endless decline in his career, losing the next five duels in a row, as both fans and promoters start to believe he's beyond recovery. Known as the perfect duelist, a promising star goes from the most expected and appraised duelist hailing from the duel academy, to the biggest disappointment of the year, or rather, the decade!"

She hisses at it exasperated, this really should be going into the trash. How can they write something absurd like this? She can barely check the rest. However, as upsetting as it is, she never saw Ryo's face in screens or advertisements for duels after his defeat to Edo Phoenix, and as much as she'd be inclined to believe those tabloids love lying, there's no denying his name is nowhere. She gulps at the thought.

Does that mean his career derailed and that he couldn't fix it anymore? Is that the reason he was there in the underground? Is he trying to get ties to come back or…? What is he even doing there? Every single minute she was in that hotel room, his attention was solely dedicated to his dueling. Whilst he wasn't the kindest, and a sarcastic or an emotionless robot for most part, all he told her and scolded her for is true.

Even a guy like him has his own struggles to overcome… Eh?

What has happened to him ever since then? The image of Kaiser Ryo she sees printed and the current "Hell Kaiser Ryo" juxtapose in her mind. His older self looked positively confident while his actual self seems rougher and somewhat unhappier. Did he involve himself with the wrong people? She cringes at the thought. Not that she's in a better position.

The metal of the door behind her creaks. "Hey, Rie, why are you still here?!"

Gasping, she closes the magazine, hugging it tightly in reaction. Her colleague raising a brow, coming around and folding his arms.

"You're a fan of those duel magazines? Sheesh," she smiles wryly at him, nodding yes, out of options. "If you like it so much, you can buy newer ones with a discount since we're workers. Now, let's go inside. You have to finish storage duty before your shift ends, okay?"

Affirming briskly with her head, she follows him inside, as she works, her mind is distracted with the discovery. After her shift, she mechanically dresses up for her next job, the same uniform she was using that day in the locker room, this time, for a bakery and café.

Past midday, there she is, sitting on a train, on her way to her next job, the apron from the convenience store tucked on her backpack. The vehicle shakes, but her eyes remain fixed on the lines of the article.

"Is the duel academy a reliable school? Despite the high rates and the generally positive reviews by parents, considering the failure of a duelist they've been educating, it is inevitable to question their methods and curriculum."

All written there is so sensationalistic and obnoxious, she frowns at it. Ryo lost six duels counting the one he had against the other young duelist and the media was barking all over him for that, even comparing them as his opponent was not only younger but seemingly more skilled.

He's her age too, all the pressure and all the ill-intended comments of media and fans has to have had an effect on him, right? No way he'd breeze through it mentally unscathed, not considering how he had this very big slump in his dream career.

For someone like him who exudes confidence in his posture, how must it have felt? How many more of those bad articles were written before and after he started losing? And for how long did his loss strike continue? Did he resort to underground because he had no choice, or like her, was he blackmailed into it?

The more she reflects upon it, the more she can't help but feel this bothersome cramp in her chest, her brows coiling up in pity.

Even if I tried to ask directly what happened, he wouldn't answer, would he? I'd look nosy…

They haven't been friends or anything, they're just strangers, but if she's having this agreement, it wouldn't hurt to know a bit more just which kind of man he is, would it? And so far, she doesn't like where this whole "duelist of the underground" tale is leading to.

She has to get to the bottom of this, and maybe, she could repay his favor by helping him too if that's even feasible, so they would be even. Her head throbs, pinching her temples between two fingers, she closes her eyes, maybe reading it for too long wasn't the greatest idea. Regardless, she has to find out more on which circumstances he's in now, but…

Where do I start from?

After entering through the glassy door of the store, accompanied by glass walls with the brand of the bakery printed onto it, she greets the workers tending to some wooden tables left and right of the main space. The clean white ceramic ground is being moped briefly by a worker on the right; on the opposite side of the main entrance, all the way to the back, there's the main counter for ordering the goods, a transparent display showing a variety of cakes, sweets, sandwiches and salted snacks.

Crossing the room, to the back door at the back of the counter, to leave her stuff in a locker for the workers, she halts. A sudden flip of switch occurs in her head as she hears the sound of the TV supported by a black frame on the left, a thunderous explosion.

[Would you look at it?! He crushed his opponent! And indomitable strength! Here he is, a fallen star, reborn today as Hell Kaiser Ryo!]

"Can someone change the channel?" one of the workers bows his head backwards to ask, a tug on his sleeve. "Ah, you…"

The pink-haired woman is stunned for a moment, pointing at the screen, hunching her shoulders, he raises a brow.

"Don't you know what that is? These are the minor leagues, but no one cares about it, and that guy is hella creepy anyways."

Rie watches the scene as the holographic smoke came out, there he was standing, such a devilish smirk she wondered if he enjoyed seeing his opponent down. At the hotel he always had this most inexpressive semblance, but looking at him on the screen, it's hard to believe he's the same person from those old pictures in magazines.

What happened to you during the last months?