Transition

A/N: Just to warn you, this is weird. I mean, WAY WEIRD. Just bare with me, okay? A name guide is at the bottom is you need it!

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Title: Transition
Author: Shippo-chan
Beta: Jennie *glomp tackle hug squeeze!*
Rating: PG13-R
Genre: Uhh…Can I say that I’m not quite sure yet? Romance is one of them though…
Pairings: Samuel/Jojo and other common pairings…I think.
Summary: Every story has a beginning, middle, and an end. In the YGO series, there is a beginning and an end. So what’s missing? The middle of course! This story is to offer you a middle…A form of…Transition.

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“Jojo!” A young boy jumped up and down on a bridge as his dark mop of brunette hair swayed in the wind. “I’m over here! Hurry Jojo!”

Nine-year-old Jojo giggled in delight as he streaked along the barren, empty ground; he could just make out the form of Samuel up ahead. His pace quickened and his breath came in gasps. When he finally reached the blue-eyed boy on he bridge, he took a deep breath before allowing a foolish grin to spread over his face. “Hiya Samuel!”

Nine-year-old Samuel gave Jojo a quick hug before standing back and getting a good look at the boy. “They been beatin’ ya up a lot, Jojo? Ya look pretty bad.”

Jojo shrugged and looked down at his bruised body, dragging a hand through the golden tresses so uncommon for his kind. “I guess it’s all right. I’ve been beat worse than this, and them white folks are never gonna get any better.” He let out a whistle. “An’ look at ya’ll! You got a couple bruises yerself!”

“Not as bad as you. Pa almost never hits me, unless he finds me hangin’ round with the likes o’ you!” He dropped down onto the bridge and waited for Jojo to follow suit. But Jojo’s brown eyes were fixed straight ahead on something down the path. Samuel cranked his head around.

There, about a half mile from the bridge, was a man. He was quickly advancing toward them, his dark hair and storm gray eyes fixed on them. Samuel jumped to his feet and faced his friend.

“I’m sorry, Jojo,” he whispered, before backhanding the boy across the face. He skidded to the ground and stared up at Samuel with terrified and shocked eyes.

“Wha…?”

Samuel stood over the other boy. “You filthy, black nigger!” he shouted. “How dare you talk ta me that way?!”

Jojo scrambled up, still shocked. “Huh? What did you call me? Sam-”

Samuel punched him in the gut, knocking him down again. This time the boy opted to stay down. “I oughta git my pa to sell you an’ yer mama! A dirty, little slave boy should learn his place mighty quick!”

The man reached them and glared down at Jojo. “This little nigger givin’ you any trouble, boy?”

“No, Pa,” he said. “At least, nothin’ I can’t handle.”

“You sure?”

“Yessuh.”

“Fine then. Let’s go home.”

“Uh…Pa, I think I should take this little nigger back to the ranch.” He took a second to glare down at Jojo, and then returned his gaze to his father. “I’m a gonna make sure he don’ run off or nothin’.”

The man nodded. “Sure boy, but you be sure to git on home before yer late fer supper. Don’ want yer mama angry.” He strode away, giving Jojo a hard kick in the ribs as he passed.

Samuel watched intently until his father was out of eyesight. Then the look of determined hatred turned to one of misery and sorrow. He knelt down to take Jojo’s hand. He pulled the boy up and, after checking to make sure he was okay, enveloped him in a tight and warm hug. “I am so sorry, Jojo,” he sobbed onto his friend’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to. Oh Lord, did I hurt you?”

Jojo gently pushed the brunette away. “It’s okay, Samuel,” he said softly, wiping a tear from the other boy’s cheek. “I know ya didn’t mean it. You’da never done that ta me. If ya hadn’t, we’d both be in big trouble! I’da been whipped bad and you prob’ly woulda got the same! Don’t get upset.” Seeing his friend’s look of relief, he decided to lighten the mood a bit. “Yer a white boy. You’ll prob’ly be whippin’ me some day!” He chuckled at his joke, but Samuel’s gaze turned fierce. His hands fisted at his sides and he gritted his teeth.

“No. I will never be like the others,” he said. “I swear it.”

Samuel, I was only joking! I-”

“Stop!” Sam shouted. “I swear!” he said. “If I ever treat you like my dad, I’ll jump off this bridge, or my name ain’t Samuel J. Paterson!” He gestured to the river that laid a few stories below.

“And I’d just catch you!” Jojo shouted. “’Cause it’s no use dyin’ for the likes of me!”

Samuel’s hands relaxed and he looked down. “Yes it is, Jojo. You’re definitely worth dying for.” He continued when Jojo parted his lips to contradict him. “You’re my best friend and my blood brother. As long as I can meet with you, I have something to look forward to. If I ever did anything to ruin that, I’d have to kill myself.”

Jojo’s head dropped and he nodded softly. “But I’d still hafta catch you, because if you killed yourself, then what would I have to look forward to?”

Seto smiled and grabbed his friend’s hand. “Fine then,” he said. “Now let’s get on home ‘fore our mamas get mad.”

Jojo nodded and they took off down the path.

After leaving Jojo with his mom on the work ranch, Samuel slowly walked home, his spirits high. He pulled open the screen door and let it shut with a slam.

“Samuel, dear, don’t let the door slam like that!” he heard his mom shout from the kitchen,

“Yes’m!” he shouted.

After slipping off the brown sandals he wore in the summer time, the brunette strode down the hall and into the parlor. His younger sister, Molly, sat in the largest chair. At six years old, she wore dingy brown slacks and a white T-shirt. Over the T-shirt was a pinstriped brown vest. She had high cheekbones and slightly slanted gray eyes. A button-sized nose completed the utterly adorable face.

Samuel took this in from the feet up. When he reached her head, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Molly!” he shouted. “Do Ma an’ Pa know what you done gone and did?!” His gaze was locked on her head. The once long and waving black tresses had been cut, and her hair looked almost exactly like Samuel’s. Placed atop her head was the dirty brown cap that Samuel had worn when he was younger. “You’ve gone and cut your hair! Bet Ma an’ Pa are gonna wear you out good!”

She blinked up at her brother. “They already done it,” she mumbled. “Soon as they done found out I cut my hair, they went out an’ found the thickest switch they could. Daddy said he even crossed that ol’ bridge over yonder. Then they done wore me out. My whole backside’s gonna be sore fer months!”

Seto’s gaze moved to her arms where harsh bruising was visible. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, Molly was looking away, moisture visible in her eyes.

“’S’not fair,” she muttered. “Why couldn’t ~you~ have been the girl?” She continued before her brother could answer. “You’re more a girl then I’m ever gonna be! I shoulda been a boy!” Her head bowed and a tear leaked down her cheek. “I-want-to-be-a-boy!”

Samuel stepped forward and hugged his little sister. “We can’t choose our lot in life, Molly-bear,” he whispered. “We jus’ gotta take what comes our way, even if it means hurting ourselves and…and our best friends.” He paused. “If you wanna be a boy, then be a boy! You can’t help yer voice an’ body, but you can act like a boy, If’n that’s what ya wanna do. Don’ give up. The good Lordwill provide.”

She looked up at the ceiling. “You’re right, Samuel. The Lord will help me.”

Samuel released his sister and smiled. Apparently, a thought hit her, because she smacked her forehead and widened her eyes. “I jus’ remembered!” she said. “Pa said ya oughtta come see ‘im soon as ya got home!”

Samuel nodded. “I thought as much. I’m gonna head to his room. That’s where he is, right?” She nodded and he set off down the hall.

The Paterson house was peculiar. When you stepped in the door, you were in a hallway. There were two doors on each side, just a few feet in. On the left was the kitchen, and on the right was the parlor. A bit farther down were the bedrooms. On the left was Molly’s, and on the right was the parents’. Then there were two bathrooms directly across from each other. On the left was the one the children shared, and on the right was the parents’. The final two doors in the hallway were Samuel’s room on the left, and Mr. Paterson’s private office to the right. Then on the back wall was a small door that opened to a set of spiraling stairs that led up to the guest room. There was a door connected to the guest room that opened into the attic, which was situated right above the kitchen and parlor.

They had moved into the house when Samuel was three, and the young boy had desperately wanted the room upstairs. But his parents had insisted that the stairs were too difficult for a toddler to handle. Since that was out of the question, he asked for the big room next to the parlor. Again he was told no, that was to be his Mom and Dad’s. Frustrated, the small boy asked for the next largest, the one next to the kitchen. His Ma was pregnant at the time and had said that since it was the one closest to hers, and the new babe needed to be near its parents, he couldn’t have it. So the poor child had taken the tiny room in the back. Now, at nine years old, Samuel could easily stand in the middle and touch all four walls.

Samuel slept on a twin bed while Molly slept on a full. Samuel wore patched jeans when Molly wore new dresses. Samuel’s schoolbooks were tattered while Molly’s were pristine. Molly had a toothbrush while Samuel had a toothpick. Molly was pretty while Samuel was plain. Molly’s fingernails were clean while Samuel’s were dirty. Molly got apple juice while Samuel got orange.

Samuel grimaced as this thought ran through his head. His parents were horrible about favoritism, but that was almost okay. What bothered him the most was that neither of them cared. Not about him or about Molly. His mother was too tired and overworked and didn’t have enough energy to really take care of them. His father saw them as nothing but insurance of the safety of his ranch after his retirement.

Samuel had first realized this when he was around Molly’s age. Something small had triggered the realization, like a missing shoe or some such thing. But thinking back, Samuel could remember a hundred times when something like this had happened, and his parents simply didn’t ~care~. To be fair, his mom did love them, but was simply unable to take on any unneeded responsibility.

The neglect had uncovered Samuel’s fiercely protective streak. He had to protect his sister, for once she realized what her parents were truly like, she too would get depressed. The brunette hated seeing girls sad because it always made his heart hurt, and it felt swollen. He wanted to comfort them so badly. Samuel had served as much a father figure to Molly as their dad, and that was just fine. Samuel could handle taking care of his sister.

All of this passed through Samuel’s mind during the short walk from the parlor to his dad’s office. He knocked on the large oak door.

“Come in,” his father’s rough tone answered.

He opened the door quietly and stepped inside, head bowed. “Ya wanted ta see me, Sir?”

The room was large, with a desk situated right in the middle. There were filing cabinets lining two walls, a typewriter and the door Samuel had just stepped through on the third, and the final wall was taken up by a huge bookcase and a door that led outside. Samuel could see someone standing outside from the shadows cast on the door.

The man behind the desk gave him a gesture toward the chair. Samuel nodded and sat.

“Samuel,” his father said. “Awhile back, yer ma and I decided we’d start training you to take over the ranch at thirteen.”

Samuel nodded again. It had been a day he’d dreaded for as long as he could remember. “Yessuh,” he muttered.

Well, I decided I’d give ya yer first bit o’ training a few years early.”

Samuel’s eyes widened, and he could feel sweat start slide down his back. “Uhm…I…”

“Samuel,” his father continued. “I’ma gonna give ya yer birthday gift a few days early.” He spread his hands, as if rearing up for a grand finale. “Boy, I’ma gonna give ya yer firt slave!”

Samuel felt his legs go numb and his palms grow icy. “I don’t think…”

The man cut him off. “He’s waiting outside now.” He signaled to whoever was behind the door. A rough black hand pushed a small boy into the room.

Samuel’s father looked down at the paper on his desk. “Here ya go, boy. He goes by Jojo Wheels.”

Samuel’s body got very hot, then very cold, and he felt himself slipping off, until the world went black.

But, and instant before he passed out, Samuel could have sworn he heard laughter.

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Whoop, there it is! Hope ya enjoyed! (told ya it was weird) ;)

NAME GUIDE:

Samuel: Seto

Jojo: Jou

Arnold: Atemu

Molly: Mokuba

Ron: Ryu

Allison: Anzu