Three Days Grace

Interlude: Jounouchi

Every time he touched me, I promised myself it would be the last time. But that bastard got me caught up in his cycle. Not hurt-comfort, but the far more addictive circle of agony-ignore. I guess he knew I couldn’t just walk away from that.

Except, I did, finally. It wasn’t him that kicked me out, either. I left before he could have that particular satisfaction. Not soon enough…but not too late for me, either, so I guess it all worked out.

Damn thing is, now that I’m out, I got no idea where the hell to hole up. Sold my old pad when he… Well, when I left it.

Easy enough to leave any place. I don’t have enough worldly crap to tie me anywhere, ever. Only bond I really had aside from the one with sis was with Yuug’ and his group. And, well… For the most part, they’ve all vanished.

Took me all of two minutes to get out of that bastard’s mansion. Maybe another three to walk off the grounds; five minutes to escape one of the more twisted chapters in my life so far. Even less time than that to walk away from Yuug’. And now… I guess I’m heading back for him. Can’t think of anyone else forgiving enough to take me back, even if I hadn’t just up and left. Even with that guy living in his head, Yuugi’s definitely the most solid of the crew I got left.

Now if I just knew where to find him.

xxxxx

I can’t believe these people. I ask for the whereabouts of Moutu Yuugi, and all I get is blank looks.

“Moutu?” one whispers. “Wasn’t there some real estate agent called that?”

“Sir,” another asks, “are you looking for the realtor Moutu? We don’t know a Moutu Yuugi.”

What gall. I wouldn’t have been all that surprised if they hadn’t heard of me. Runner-ups don’t generally attract that much attention, and I got used to always playing a step below Yuug’. But not to know Yuugi? Obscene.

I don’t answer. Can’t.

I mean, I know dueling isn’t all the rage anymore, but didn’t it keep some loyal followers after the bastard’s last tournament?

I guess not, or someone might have known Yuug’. As it is, it’s nearing evening, and I’m still in limbo, torn between going back and spending a night on the streets.

Satin sheets, good food, comfort, safety – none of that’s available out here. I don’t really want to go back, but do I have much of a choice?

My feet start moving on their own, taking me back up the street, the way I came. Even this far away, I guess he’s still got me trapped.

I go slow, pausing not quite long enough to become a loiterer in all the shops. Just stand around after a while, not even pretending to look. Because one way or another, looking means feeling, and there ain’t no way in hell I wanna start feeling again.

Guess I hung out too long here. The counter woman’s glaring at me like if I don’t up and out now, she’s gonna do something to make it happen. I ain’t in a fighting mood. I just leave.

Wander up and down a few more streets, watch the light going away as the sun sets. Doesn’t get too chilly too fast, so I’m good for a while longer.

Partway through my wandering, hoping to find an alternate to ‘home’, I have an idea as I walk by the museum for what feels like the hundredth time. Not many willing to sleep with artifacts that make their great-grandparents look like toddlers, but I ain’t gonna be picky. Just hope it’s still open.

It is. A bit odd, I guess, but maybe security tapes are supposed to warn off intruders, or maybe the lookouts are being lazy. Either way, I’m in, and right about now, I don’t give a damn how I managed it.

xxxxx

Curled up with the paintings in the basement isn’t very comfortable. I had something of a close brush with security twice already, though. I’m not risking getting caught the night I’ve escaped. Knowing him, he’s glad I’m gone, but if I returned he’d do a damn good job of reminding me why I shouldn’t leave.

xxxxx

There’s noise. Soft, padding footsteps. I’m tense. My ears know those steps. What the fuck is that bastard doing here? How the hell did he know? I wouldn’t put it past him to have installed a tracking device or some super computer chip to read my brain. Dammit! And just when I got out, too.

But his steps aren’t coming into the art storage. They’re fading away, down the twisted mess of halls.

I’m too tense to go back to sleep, and it’s freezing anyway. Quietly, I get up and follow.

Damn curiosity. If you get me caught, I’ll kill you.

It’s not so easy to follow him out here. His steps don’t echo quite the way they should. I suffer a few close calls until I see that he’s pacing the length of the hall, pausing at odd intervals to check other offshoots or look at his watch.

The light when he checks it shines on his face, bringing out all the sharp angles. I have to close my eyes to keep from running out to hit that smug face. Even with them closed, I can feel him there. It’s like knowing there’s a wildcat waiting to rip you apart for its dinner…but only after it’s done playing.

Some invisible signal goes off and he gets tense, rising to his fullest height, nostrils flaring a bit. Anyone else might have compared him to a king stallion scenting danger. I know better. No horse ever got turned on by blood.

He starts walking again, slowly, but filled with purpose. I trail behind because I can’t think of anything else to do. And – dammit, yes, I’ll admit it – I don’t want to let the bastard out of my sight.

“For a duelist that’s impossible to beat by ordinary means, you sure are predictable in everything else you do.”

It’s hard to see through the shadows, but when I do, my jaw drops. What the hell is Yuugi doing here?

But he doesn’t call him Yuugi. A different name slips out, the one Yuug’ used to use before we all called the guy in his head ‘Pharaoh’.

“Yami.”

“Kaiba.

The deep voice that answers is definitely not Yuugi’s voice. But the guy still doesn’t turn around. I’m on the outside. What the hell happened?

There’s a weird tingling thing going on in the air. It makes it hard to breathe. I’ve got a reason to get out, besides just the bastard, now. I take it, groping blindly up stairs and hoping I don’t make enough sound to be noticeable.

xxxxx

I don’t know what the hell is going on downstairs that made my brain feel all fuzzy, but whatever it was, I don’t like it.

And Yuugi’s there, too…except, that really isn’t Yuugi. It’s someone else who looks exactly like Yuugi, ‘cept with a deeper voice. How’d the guy in here anyway? Was the front door unlocked for him too? Beyond weird…

I need a place to stay still, and no way am I holing up again in art storage. For one thing, it’s freezing. Modern art might be easy on the eyes, but it doesn’t make for good blankets.

xxxxx

I found it by accident. Yuugi’s house. I don’t even remember when he moved out of the Game Shop… Too long ago.

But I’m sure this is his. It’s got stabs of personality written all over it. I knock on the door. It makes a hollow sound. I don’t think anyone would have heard it, so I knock again and again, harder each time until I’m pounding. It’s only after my fist is sore that I notice the doorbell.

Even outside, I can hear the obnoxious buzzing. Moments later, the door jerks inward. Well, it’s not Yuugi, that’s for sure.

“Can I help you?” She looks confused and shifts so she’s partway behind the door.

Well, this isn’t awkward or anything. “Uh, I was looking for Moutu Yuugi – ”

Oh, right. No one remembers who the fuck he is anymore. Feeling dejected, I turn, ready to leave.
She surprises me by grabbing my shirt collar. He did that too. It’s an act of pure will not to growl at her.

“Oh, that boy who lived here before!” she chirps. “Moutu-san doesn’t live here anymore, but I know where he moved.” She’s making the strangest expression with her eyes.

“Oh.” It’s all I can think to say. She doesn’t offer his new address. After a few awkward seconds of silence, I ask, “Can you tell me?”

She blinks, the plastic grin disappearing for a fraction of a second. “Oh, yeah. Here,” she lets go of my shirt and props the door open with a foot. “Come in and I’ll get it for you.”

Even though she’s a chick and not brunet – or skinnier than paper – she’s still got me reminded of Kaiba. It’s how she moves, I think. Self-assured, and touchy-feely in an “I do/I don’t” sort of way.

Gives me the creeps, to be sure. Or maybe I’m just seeing things that aren’t there.

About two minutes after she’s forced me onto the couch – more or less in a sitting position - she returns bearing an index card with wavy writing across it. At least they don’t write the same. That would really freak me out.

“Are you a friend of Moutu-san’s?” she asks, plopping down next to me on the cough. Still a bit too close, although there’s at least an arm’s length between us and no other furniture for sitting in the room.

It doesn’t escape my notice that this is one of those love-seat things designed for two. I’m crammed against one arm, and she’s delicately perched on the other, curiosity filling big, green eyes.

I scratch at the back of my neck trying to ignore how uncomfortable this feels.

“Well, yeah. I mean, me an’ Yuug’ went t’school together an’ we’ve been buds forever.”

Until the last two years rolled around, at any rate, but mentally I excuse the white lie.

She nods. “So which one are you? I talked with him when he was moving out, and he mentioned friends… But no one came to help except his twin. I thought it was a shame.”

Her eyes aren’t too friendly right now.

I guess I can’t just run out the front door. Well, I could, but that’s probably not the wisest move to make. Trying to explain I was being held hostage and fucked senseless by Yuugi’s arch-rival probably won’t go over very well either.

That leaves lying, and though it hurts to dig it up, I’ve got an old one in the books.

“Yuug’ knew I wouldn’t be able to come. I – I’ve got – ” I had “ – a younger sister. She was having her eyes operated on.”

Three years ago, but does it matter?

“I had to be with her.”

Her expression softens a bit. “So y ou’re the one with the sister. Yuugi talked a lot about you. Called you his best friend.”

She shifts on the arm of the loveseat and looks at her hands. “Well, good luck finding him, then. I hope your sister’s eyes get better.”

That’s a goodbye, I guess, ‘cause she stands up then and pushes me towards the door, suddenly all business again. I start down the stairs, but stop when I hear her voice again.

“Hey, I never got your name.”

I turn and offer what I hope is a dashing smile. “Jounouchi.”

She does the dimple-thing again. “I’m Sasiuke. Tell Moutu-san I say hello when you find him!”

Then she disappears into the house, leaving me half off her porch, clutching a brittle sheet of paper with an address. Nothing else.

It’s dark. It’s late.

But… I guess it’s something.

xxxxx

The place is an apartment building. I don’t really feel like going door to door, knocking to find which one belongs to Yuug’. Actually, I’m a little surprised at the condition of the place. It isn’t as crummy as my old pad, but it’s nowhere near the 5-star residence he was in last time I saw him.

There’s a guy inside, smoking, when I go in. One side is completely covered in tattoos while the other lacks decoration entirely. IT makes an eerie picture. He’s the only person here, though.

“Do you know where Moutu Yuugi lives?” I don’t honestly expect much of an answer, but he surprises me.

“The punk with the weird hair and the twin?”

Since “weird hair” is about the most accurate description of Yuugi’s style that I’ve heard, I nod. The “twin” part I’m not so sure about, but I guess whoever was talking to Kaiba in the museum could qualify as a twin…

“Second floor, third door on the right.”

“Thanks.”

The man takes a long drag from his cigarette and nods.

I set off up the stairs. They don’t creak, but that’s only because they’re cement, not wood. Chunks are missing. AT least the whole building is cement. I don’t think I would have trusted a wooden landing.

Second floor… Second floor… Third door – right hand side.

I knock, wondering if this is actually the right place. Wondering what the hell I’m doing here. Wondering why I didn’t just go back to my own personal hell.

The door opens and a bleary-eyed figure with messed up hair peers out. Doll eyes gain sparkle and I feel like my ribs are going to crack when he jumps on me.

“Jounouchi-kun!”

I run my hand through his hair. He’s still so goddamn short that he looks like a kid. “Yeah, Yuug’. It’s me.”

xxxxx
Sitting in the middle of the living room/bedroom/kitchen that also doubles as a foyer and closet and basement, it’s hard not to feel right at home. Yuugi’s eyes are real big, and he’s sitting just a little too close.

It’s impossible to tell him to move when his eyes are like that. He’s a kid at heart.

And he wants to know where I’ve been. I can’t tell him. It’s sickeningly easy to sidestep the issue. He comes closer when I do, so his hand is resting on my knee.

I want to push it off, back out of reach, but I can’t because it’s Yuugi and he really doesn’t mean it.

The door opens then, and he scrambles to his feet, whizzing by to throw himself at an almost identical copy, latching on as if for life.

Burning red eyes meet mine over Yuugi’s head. It’s the double from themuseum. I’m sure of it. How man near-identical copies of Yuugi can there be in the world?

“Jounouchi.”

That’s his voice, for sure. A bit confused, a little shaken, but mostly relieved. Why?

“I was looking for you earlier.”

Earlier? How early? It’s got to be past midnight at least.

“I couldn’t find you.” Red eyes darken. “We need your help, Jounouchi.”

My help? My help?

What the goddamn, fucking shit in hellfire is going on? I thought I came here for help.

He doesn’t seem to have noticed that I’m obviously at the end of my own rope. He doesn’t seem to have noticed anything except to acknowledge Yuugi still clinging like a doll to his waist.

“We need a place to stay,” mingles with my rushed, “I need somewhere to crash.” Uneasiness fills the silence.

Yami – that’s what Kaiba called him, wasn’t it? – nods, eyes darting down to Yuugi’s who’s almost asleep on his feet. The taller version gathers the shorter in his arms and cradles him, rocking until light breathing becomes the only sound I can hear.

Yami dips to his knees and lays Yuugi down on the floor, snagging a jacket to drape over him. Then he’s standing again, looking at me. With a significant glance at Yuugi, he motions toward the door. I nod and follow him out.

The hall is dark, lit by the failing light of dying lamps. Yami leaves the door partly open and settles on the floor.

After a moment’s hesitation, I do the same.

“I’m sorry about your sister,” are the first words out of his mouth.

I’m startled. He knows about Shizuka? I didn’t even find out until a few days after it happened. Well, it had been nearly a year – I guess word filters out eventually.

“She was very brave.”

I didn’t come to reminisce, but anyone mentions Shizuka and I can’t help it. She was starlight to the core, no matter how corny that sounds. “Yeah…she was.” I can’t help but remember her coming after me in Battle City – after her real eye operation – when I nearly drowned. Or any of those other times when she was just around and made me stronger with her own belief.

“She saved Yuugi.”

Now that’s a story I haven’t heard. “What from?”

Yami gives me a strange look. “She saved his life, Jounouchi. She kept him from being killed.”

Something doesn’t ring quite right. “What?”

His eyes are burning into mine. “Shizuka saved Yuugi’s life at the cost of her own when Kaiba was trying to kill him.”

Shizuka - Kaiba?
“What the fuck? She died in a car crash!” That’s what he told me. That’s what – that’s…

Yami is shaking his head.

“Kaiba killed my sister?” It comes out so soft I’m not even sure I said anything, except Yami’s dark eyes are filled with pity.

“You didn’t know?”

“He – he…” But he couldn’t have. A year ago, when Shizuka died, he had been out of the country.”

“No.” I’m shaking my head, even though I don’t know why I feel I have to defend the maker of my hell. Misplaced loyalty, I guess. “No. He’s a bastard, but he wouldn’t stoop that low. He was gone when it happened, anyway.”

Yami’s eyes tell me differently. “She died at his last tournament, Jounouchi. Two years ago.”


______________________________
Author’s Notes:
In my timeline, Jou wasn’t there for the Ceremonial Duel where Yami and Yuugi split. Kaiba was, though.
NOT implying Yami and Yuugi are related. I just needed a slightly more normal explanation for Yami than “the guy who used to live in my head but now has miraculously obtained his own body which happens to look nearly identical to mine!”
“too close” – Jou’s developed person space issues from being around Kaiba. In the case of Yuugi, however, the space issue is real rather than imagined.