It wouldn't be a story with Joey in it if I didn't have him involved in a fight.

Come on now.

We all know how this works.

.

Seto, Noa, and Joey were sharing tempura vegetables and cold noodles. One moment, Noa was making Joey cough up his lungs with laughter by half-remembering a joke he'd heard at Kaiba-Corp, and the next moment they were surrounded. Despite the fact that he was barely conscious anymore, Joey was the first to notice the threat approaching; that said, Seto wasn't far behind. Both boys had strong instincts and sharp hearing, and it crossed Noa's mind—later, once he had the time to consider the day properly—that they were cut from the same cloth. They were nearly the same person, except Joey happened to still live in a poor neighborhood.

But Seto hadn't forgotten his roots. There was a reason why he was able to talk to Joey so deftly, so naturally, that even his more insidious plots—which all amounted to tricking Joey into accepting their help—never took long before he was convinced.

Seto remained casual; he pretended not to pay attention. All the same, Noa saw his brother slowly, carefully, removing his loafers. Noa thought about asking what Seto thought he was doing, until he also removed his socks and stood up. Seto took a familiar stance, and Noa realized he'd done this to make sure he had enough traction on the grass.

Joey didn't bother with this; he simply rose to his full height and shook his arms.

"Oi, oi," Joey said, slipping his hands into his pockets while three boys from Phoenix Gate came stalking up to them. "Nobody told me we were havin' a party today. I'd have brought my fancy hat."

"Stay out of this, mongrel," one of the boys snapped.

Seto rolled his eyes. "Here we go."

"Friends of yours?" Joey chirped.

"Oh, sure," Seto said.

Noa gestured to one of the boys with his cane. "That one braided my hair last weekend. We had a sleepover."

Joey snorted laughter.

"Shut up!" The boy who'd called Joey a mongrel seemed to be the leader of this little troupe, and he didn't like being made light of.

"Oh, a'yuh," Joey said. "You got it, hoss." He offered up a jaunty little salute.

Leader didn't bother with any more words; he decided in that moment that his victims weren't worth the effort. He growled and gestured sharply, like a mob boss. Flunky One and Flunky Two both stomped forward; the fight was on.

When Flunky One made an immediate move toward Noa, Seto slipped in between them like a serpent. Flunky Two held up his fists and shuffled up to Joey, clearly believing him to be an easy target. If he understood half as much about Joey as Seto had known from the first moment, he wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake.

He clearly didn't.

The grin dropped from Joey's face; he was serious now. It was a transformation that made Noa think forcefully of his mother. Joey Wheeler was eleven years old, just a boy like his new friends, but he wasn't a stranger to a fight. He was in his element now. There was no other way for Noa to think of it: this was what Joey was made for.

In this moment, he was a warrior.

All the same, Seto was the first to move.

Leader was trying his damnedest to act as dramatic as possible. He snapped his fingers, clearly the signal for his boys to attack, but Seto was first. Before Leader even had a chance to lower his arm, Seto sent his fist into Flunky One's gut. While Flunky One hacked out what was left of his breath, Seto dropped to the ground and swept the other boy's legs out from under him.

Joey's game face lifted just long enough for him to laugh. "Whoop!" he called out. "Looks like your boys aren't on top of things!" He tossed his head back and cackled.

When Flunky Two threw a punch, Joey whipped to the side and snapped his right foot up into the other boy's groin. He twisted, smooth as a dancer, as Flunky Two stumbled forward and fell onto his knees; Joey's other foot careened into Flunky Two's temple and knocked him flat onto the grass.

Moments later, Flunky One crumpled in a graceless heap.

Joey rolled his shoulders; this was just the warmup. He didn't look victorious; if anything, he looked disappointed. He turned his attention to Leader and raised his eyebrows.

"What's next, big man? You got any more goons hiding in the bushes?"

.

Noa didn't know how to fight. He wasn't anything close to an expert when it came to defending himself or anyone else; that said, one thing he had learned throughout his life so far—thanks to coming from a family like his—was how to maintain a poker face. He kept his attention on Leader, leaning on his cane for balance; even when he noticed the fourth Phoenix Gate student come sneaking toward them, like he was outright waiting for Joey to ask that question, the eldest Kaiba kept his gaze straight ahead.

Flunky Three wasn't honestly stealthy enough for what he was trying to do, except for two things: Seto had tunnel vision, and Joey was barely paying attention.

"You think this is it, mongrel?" Leader demanded. "You think you're gonna walk away from this?!"

"I don't think you're in any position to ask me that," Joey said. "From where I'm standing, it don't look like your boys are gonna help much. So, like, unless you've got something else hidden up your fancy sleeves, there, I dunno where you're getting this attitude from."

Seto didn't speak; he didn't have the same level of experience as Joey so clearly did, so he was too focused on keeping himself on-task. He was like a beast—a dragon, Noa thought suddenly—on the hunt; he was waiting for an opening. Any opening. Once he had it, he was going to pounce.

Nothing close to training or proper technique prompted Noa to act; it was the sudden, panicked realization that Flunky Three had a knife tucked into his hand.

Noa kept his eyes on Leader, waiting, waiting; his chest was tight, his heartbeat was thundering against his ribs. He licked his lips, hoping against hope that Leader was so wrapped up in the story he was crafting that he thought Noa was afraid of him. And he waited. Waited.

Waited.

Now!

Noa kicked his cane up with one foot, took it with both hands, and swung with every bit of strength he could muster. This little device he'd been given to help him walk cracked against Flunky Three's nose; blood sprayed like a spigot, and the would-be assassin stumbled backward, dropping his weapon to grasp at his face with both hands.

"Fug!" Flunky three wailed.

Seto tackled Flunky Three to the ground; they both collapsed to the grass. Seto pinned the other boy with his knees and punched him once, twice, thrice. He stood up, face curled into something savage and disgusted, while Joey strolled over to the discarded blade.

"Oh-ho?" Joey said, picking it up. He held the knife tweezed between his fingers. "You meant business, didn'cha? Gotta give you credit. Sacrifice two of your boys to line up your third for the kill shot? Advanced. Strategic. Wouldn't think you capable of it. Yeah. Yeah, that's good. That's real good." The blond brawler, all seventy pounds of him, raised his eyes at Leader. "Too bad you fucked it up."

Seto wiped his mouth with his arm.

"What were you asking?" Seto asked, his voice low and raspy. Both fists were smeared with blood. "Do we think we're going to walk away?" He growled low in his throat. "I think I have a better question: do you think you're going to stop us?"