Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

Thin Line	By : Rroselavy Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 8050 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: I don't own or profit in way from Yu-Gi-Oh.

Chapter 9
He was out in the city with Mokuba. Not content with pedestrian Domino, Mokuba had ordered the chauffeur to take them into Tokyo. 'At least I won't run into anyone I know.' Jou thought. He missed his friends, but he wasn't sure what he was going to tell them about ... about this new situation with Kaiba. He smiled to himself, imagining the look of shock on their faces.
All morning Mokuba dragged him in and out of game arcades, video and music stores, stocking up on game cartridges, DVDs and CDs. The money Kaiba had handed him was tucked deep in his pants pocket. He was back in his own clothes, they were about three shades lighter and cleaner than he ever remembered. He resisted the urge to pick up a Keane CD that he coveted, Mokuba saw him put it back, and bought it surreptitiously.
He loved Tokyo, it reminded him a bit of New York -- the crowded streets, the bustling tourists, the international feel. He thought wistfully about Kaiba's impending trip there. 'Don't go there, Jou,' he said to himself.
Mokuba's shopping spree done, they set about looking for some clothes for Jou. He hadn't been clothes shopping in a store for years. Since they'd been in Japan, he'd only visited second-hand stores for anything. He felt self-conscious. "Mokuba, can you help me pick something out?" They were in an American GAP store, he remembered the chain when he lived in New York, at least that was something.
He stood in front of the cubbies filled with jeans. He had no idea what size he was. Mokuba sensed his hesitation. "Jou, I'll get someone to help us."
"Umm, okay Moku."
He tried on armloads of pants and shirts before settling on three pairs of jeans, a couple of button-up shirts and a long-sleeved pullover. He bought some socks and underwear, and looked down at his beat-to-shit sneakers. 'Those too.' He sighed, as Mokuba dragged him to a Footlocker. As he was paying for new sneakers, he noticed an ad for the Yankees.
"Shit, the Yankees are in town?" He was incredulous.
"Yes," the clerk responded, handing him change, "it's an exhibition game with the Giants."
"Oh man, that would be so cool ..." he thought about the Sunday afternoon games he'd spent in the Bronx with his grandfather. Sitting in the bleachers calling out in Japanese to the great Hideki Matsui, how the left-fielder had nicknamed him 'Brooklyn' for his curious New York-accented Japanese. He smiled at the reminiscense.
"Hey Jou, it's early, we could go if we want," said Mokuba.
"No way. I'm sure it's sold out!" Jou replied.
"So?" Mokuba scrunched up his nose, "We have a Skybox. That is, Kaiba Corp. does. I'll call Seto, and see if we can use it today. Sometimes he lets clients use it, though, so it might not be free."
Mokuba talked for a moment, and then closed his cell phone. "Seto says it's no problem. He'll have tickets left for us at the box office."
Being at the ballpark was amazing, but- although the Skybox was luxurious- Jou wished that they were out in the stands. The Yanks were slaughtering the Giants, and the crowd thinned a bit after the eighth. "C'mon, Moku; let's go down to the field level," Jou urged, spying some empty seats by the visitors' dugout. He still had a fortune in his pocket and figured that, if they were caught, he could bribe the usher.
Ryuichi was on deck, and Jou called out, "Hey, Ryuichi; hit one out!" The great hitter turned, recognizing the accent, and he spied the boy.
"Brooklyn?!" half questioning, half disbelief, a smile cracked his face.
"You know him, Jou?" Mokuba was impressed.
"I used to shout at him in Japanese from the bleachers at the Stadium," Jou said, waving to the hitter.
Ryuichi strode to the plate, hit the first pitch out of the park, and rounded the bases to the wild applause of the remaining crowd.
They watched the rest of the game from their new vantage point and, when the Yanks came off the field at the end, Ryuichi motioned to the boys.
As they came down toward the field, he lobbed a baseball to Jou. Catching it, the blond looked at it and smiled. On it was written "Brooklyn -- All the Best, Kamachi Ryuichi."
"Hey Mokuba, here; this is fah you."
"Really? Thanks Jou! You're the best!" the young boy's eyes shone.
Before they headed back to Domino, Jou wanted to stop and pick up some groceries for dinner. He asked the chauffeur if he knew anywhere that sold European groceries. They headed over to the Nissin in Azabu-Juban. Mokuba was drowsily leaning against Jou, and the blond hugged him close. As Mokuba slept in the limo, Jou shopped quickly for some veal shanks and arborio rice; he would prepare a feast for Seto tonight.
Riding back to the Kaiba mansion, Jou let himself fantasize about dessert.
* * *
Kaiba was relieved when Mokuba called, asking if he and Jounouchi could use the skybox. Now there would be no chance they'd be back before he left for his appointment. He didn't want to tell the other boy what he was doing, didn't want him to know anything until the contract was signed. He tried not to think about the details, it made him sick to think that Jou's father would happily sell him off into what he thought was the slave trade. It didn't surprise him though.
He wasn't worried that any physical harm would come to him, but he had one of his bodyguards accompany he and his lawyer anyway. The section of the city Jou lived in was awful -- rundown tenements, streets filled with refuse, drug dealers and prostitutes roaming freely -- Kaiba couldn't help but feel conspicuous in the limo, but he certainly wasn't going to park his own ride and leave it unattended.
The apartment building Jou lived in was very rundown. Grafitti and scratchiti covered every surface. The security lock on the front door had been broken, the door swung freely. The elevator was broken, so the three trudged the four flights in silence. He couldn't believe the squalor Jou lived in.
He was trying hard to mask his rage, but his lawyer could sense the tension in his body.
"Mr. Kaiba, sir, you know it is very important for you not to lose your temper during these final negotiations."
"Of course I do."
"Perhaps it would be better for you to wait downstairs in the car. I can call you when things are finalized."
"I thought you said he was ready to sign."
"Well, yes sir, I did. But if he recognizes you, he may want to renegotiate."
The nerve. The elder Jounouchi had no idea how lucky he was that Kaiba was being generous. He'd just as easily eliminated the problem altogether. But this was Jou's father, and for whatever reason, Kaiba knew Jou still loved him. He also he a morbid curiosity to see the hellhole Jou had called home.
Down a dimly lit hall they found the apartment. The lawyer rang the doorbell. There was no answer. Impatiently, Kaiba knocked. There was furtive movement from inside.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" There was annoyance in the voice.
Kaiba steeled himself as the door opened. "Oh!" the man's scowl brightened, "You must be Mr. Morimoto?!"
"Yes, Mr. Jounouchi, as you requested, I've brought my client with me to sign the contract."
The door opened to allow them in. Kaiba looked around at his surroundings, the apartment was dingy, but yet, someone had been taking care of it somewhat. It was broom-clean, except for a pile of empty beer cans next to a decrepit La-Z Boy. As Kaiba scanned the room, he noticed masses of duct tape taped on walls, his eyes narrowed as he realized the tape covered holes, some at head level, others lower. Whoever had done the patching had been creative, outlining shapes of stars, crescent moons, and even hearts. On the wall next to the kitchen doorway, he spied a smeared handprint of what could only be dried blood. He felt his stomach turn with revulsion.
"Please forgive the mess," Jounouchi said obsequiously, "the boy hasn't been home to clean ..." his voice trailed off and he looked toward Kaiba. "But I suppose you know that?" he said, emphasizing you in a way Kaiba did not like.
He gave Jou's father a withering stare, and sensed his fear. "I don't see where that is any concern of yours," he said flatly, willing the emotion from his voice.
"Well, it is at least, until I sign him away." Jounouchi's eyes narrowed as he appraised the bodyguard who stood silently in front of the door. He was pointedly blocking any exit or entrance to the apartment. "Who's he? And why is he here?" he demanded.
Kaiba did not like the belligerence in his voice. Again he willed himself emotionless. "It is one of the requirements for a man of my stature," he lied. He could smell trouble, but maintained his game face.
"Mr. Jounouchi, I've brought the contract for you to sign," the lawyer interrupted, "I trust you will find it in order." He held out the contract out for the other to exam.
"Well, I've been thinking perhaps my son is more valuable than I originally thought." He looked at Kaiba "He can be a good dog with a firm master. Once he learns his place, he can be very obedient." He grinned lasciviously at Kaiba. "Besides, I've had another offer," he continued "One that seems far more attractive. Someone who's assured me my son will be well taken care of, who knows how he needs to be handled."
Kaiba's eyes narrowed dangerously, but the insult from the old man's lips hit him like a body blow. How could he have guessed that the insult he taunted Jou with was the same? "You have?" he asked, ignoring the waiver in his voice.
"Yes, it appears my boy is highly prized. To have two powerful men in a bidding war. I must admit if I knew he was that valuable, I would have considered this long ago. He was never worth much to me. Just a whiny mouth to feed. Can't even tell you if he is mine, his bitch of a mother told me he was, then she went and killed herself, left me with a kid I never wanted."
Kaiba could tell he was being baited. With all the patience he could muster he asked evenly "And who has this other offer come from?"
"Someone who I believe you know, Mr. Kaiba." He answered with a triumphant smile, "Mr. Otogi." Jounouchi was proud he was able to divulge the fact he knew he was negotiating with Seto Kaiba, richest man in Japan, and that he'd trapped him into a bidding war. 'Little piece of shit is good for something.' he thought to himself.
Kaiba took a deep breath. That bastard Otogi. He was being played now, but one thing was certain, he would not be leaving this apartment without that contract signed, no matter what.
"Look old man," he sprang at him, grabbing Jounouchi and pushing him up against the wall. "I have proof of what you've done to Katsuya, if I share this proof with Otogi, I am sure his offer will be rescinded. I know his tastes," he lied, and they don't include victims of incest and child abuse." He saw the older man's eyes widen in horror. "Or perhaps I should just go to the authorities with my proof. I understand child molesters are very popular in prison."
"W--What are you talking about? Whatever Katsuya told you, he's a lying piece of shit! The little bastard, he'd say anything to make you feel sorry for him!"
"Is that so?" Kaiba let go, and pulled his Blackberry out of his pocket. He was quickly regaining his composure. "Let's read my physician's report, shall we?" He paged through his inbox. "Here it is, 'Evidence of sexual assault. Evidence of child abuse. Recommend removal from abusive environment.' I have some accompanying photos as well, here look," he shoved the screen into the other man's face. The photo was cropped from Jou's jaw to his lower torso. The flash had illuminated his skin as a ghostly white, the bruises looked awful. Captured in two-dimensions rather than on a body in motion, they were even more sickening. The other man's face blanched, and Kaiba noticed a shudder run through his body.
"As a matter of fact," he continued in a dead serious voice, "if it were up to me, I would have found a much better use for $250,000 you've demanded. That kind of money, in the right hands, would ensure that you never existed." He smiled viciously at the stunned old man. "Unfortunately, for some reason I cannot fathom, your son still loves you, or at least wants no harm to come to you."
There was an uneasy silence in the room, it seemed as if time was standing still. As he waited for his words to sink in, Kaiba reflected that he probably should have had his lawyer negotiate some kind of stipend rather than a lump sum. He could tell that this man was not long to the world, now he would be out $250,000. His only solace was that anything left in the estate would automatically go to Jou, as Kaiba was certain there would be no will. His lips curled in an evil smile.
"So I recommend you do two things, sign that contract, and accept that your son is dead to you." He glared hard at the old man, his body filled with hate. In a sick way he wished the old man would give him a reason to make good on his threat.
Jounouchi was sweating profusely now. He didn't remember raping his son, but he couldn't deny he'd had those thoughts lately as Jou had struggled underneath him. It could very well be a bluff, but the menace in the room was not. It dawned on him that his life may truly be in danger. The bodyguard's hand slid under his coat to a bulge in his waistband.
"Mr. Jounouchi," the lawyer's voice was reasonable. "We have the money, in cash, as you requested." In a single motion he swung open the briefcase he was holding, revealing stacks of crisp currency. "I think you can see it is in everyone's best interest to execute the contract."
Shakily, silently, Jounouchi signed the contract. Seto breathed a sigh of relief. It was done, Jou was in his lawyer's custody now. Seto had arranged that Jou would be emancipated when he was. As school was over, and graduation was on Thursday, that was only a few days away.
"I'd like to collect Katsuya's things now." he said, striding through the living room, toward a hall he guessed would lead to Jou's bedroom.
"His things," Jou's father repeated, "he has no things."
Kaiba wheeled. "What do you mean by that?"
"They're gone," the old man replied, eyes downcast.
He found Jou's bedroom at the end of the hall, noticed the door of its hinges. The room was completely destroyed. The bureau that had once held clothes was splintered apart. The closet had been emptied out, the innards of board games scattered, books torn apart, pages sifted into shards of CDs and jewelboxes that littered the floor. The mattress where Jou had slept had been upended, it lay over the worn blankets that had once covered it. Ripped, crumpled pictures were strewn about. At his feet was a relatively unharmed photo of Jou with his little sister Serenity. He picked it up and pocketed it, feeling the sting of tears, the disbelief at his surroundings. The wall by the door had a head-sized hole in it, he realized that this is where the old man had last attacked his son.
He strode back into the living room and eyed the old man malevolently. "Where's his passport?"
"His passport? Jounouchi echoed, "I got rid of that a long time ago," he said quietly.
Kaiba strode back down the hall, into the old man's bedroom. Methodically, he began to trash it. He vaguely heard a howl of protest, stifled by the calm voice of his bodyguard. He dumped out the dresser, strewing clothes on the floor. He ripped all the bedding off the mattress, adding it to the pile. He knew that he could never make up to Jou what had happened in this hellhole, but he took great satisfaction in dumping out the old man's possessions and kicking them about the room. He attacked the closet, pulling out boxes off the top shelf. As he did so, a shoebox emptied its contents at his feet. Looking down, he saw a pile of mail. All the envelopes had been opened, letters stuffed back in haphazardly. He picked up the top one and turned it over to see the address. It was an American address, written by a boy's hand -- Jou's hand. A letter to his grandfather. The stamp on it was uncancelled. Underneath was an envelope from the American address, written to Jou. Hurriedly, he picked all the letters up and stuffed them into one of the large pockets of his trenchcoat.
When he was done with the room, he continued through the apartment until there was nothing left unopened, undisturbed. But he could not find Jou's passport. Apparently the old man had not been lying. They would not be going to New York together after all.
He came back to the living room, glancing around at the hell Katsuya had lived in one last time. He leveled his gaze at the old man, "Remember what I said to you. Your son is dead." He turned on his heel and left, lawyer and bodyguard trailing behind.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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