Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Broken Shards of Pottery ❯ Random Variable ( Chapter 1 )

Many Thanks To: KittyKatu, Kitt Sseh, Neko-chan (Random insanity, not stupidity. ^.^ Don't worry, it made me laugh.), darkpoetrystar, Ocean (Ohh... 'enticing'? *blushes*), mew-magic5, dilanda, and Mokona. *glomps you guys* I really appreciate all of your comments! ^.^

And thanks to everyone who put this story in your favorites! *double glomp*

Dear Sis,

Hey! How ya doing? Sorry I can't come visit you today. You've probably heard about this huge party thing Kaiba's throwin, right? For all the duelists? Yeah, well, I'm going to that. Yugi and Anzu are comin too. It'll be a regular madhouse, I'm pretty sure, with all those duelists in one place. The good thing is that it'll be that much harder to run into Moneybags while I'm there.

I promise I'll try to be civil if I actually do meet up with him, though, cause I know how you feel about me gettin into fights, Shizuka. I can't promise anything, though. That guy really should get that stick out of his scrawny ass before it gets stuck there permanently.

I'm joking. Don't look like that.

Anyways, I'm givin this note to Honda to give to ya, and I'll make sure he reads it to ya out loud, k? And if he forgets cause he's too caught up with you I'll kick his sorry ass. That was another joke, sis. I already know you don't approve of my type of humor, don't worry.

I'll come see you in a few days, OK? Till then I'll let Honda keep you company.

Let me know if he tries anything funny, though.

Oh, and Yugi says hi.

Love,
Katsuya

Katsuya Jounouchi signed his name to the hastily-scrawled note with a flourish, then folded up the small slip of paper and stuffed it in his pocket. Making a mental note to drop it off at Honda's on the way to the fancy hotel where Kaiba's Battle City convention was being held, the blond turned to see Yugi Motou dash down the stairs that lead from the apartment upstairs to the first-floor game shop, hair in disarray and looking quite flustered as he struggled with a blue denim jacket that outright refused to go on properly.

"Jounouchi-kun!" The name came out as a muffled squeak as Yugi fought bravely with the inanimate object. "We're gonna be late!"

The blond glanced at the clock hanging on the shop wall, and indeed, it read six forty-five, nearly sunset. The convention opened its doors at seven, and it would take at least fifteen minutes to get there, threading through the crowd of other duelists as they would have to. Jounouchi shrugged casually, though the move was lost on Yugi. The jacket now had his head in a stranglehold.

"Nothing wrong wit bein' late, Yug'. Just means Kaiba won't be waiting to see us through the door." He smirked. "What a shame."

The shorter youth had finally bested his valiant opponent, and maneuvered his arms into their proper places in the jacket. "But, Jounouchi-kun-- I wanted to see what Kaiba has planned. It's supposed to be really spectacular. Besides, it's a good chance to study the other duelist's strategies." And suddenly, in the small pause between sentences, Jounouchi was no longer looking at Yugi.

The casual outsider, of course, wouldn't know the difference. Jounouchi was not just a casual observer, however; he had witnessed this strange transformation often since he had met the shorter boy, and though this presence that seemed somehow dark had once claimed to be Yugi, and had responded to that particular name, Jounouchi knew in his core that they were different entirely. Yugi had once referred to him as 'the other me', and Jounouchi had overheard Anzu calling him 'Yami'.

'Darkness'. It seemed to fit this odd youth, this person different from anyone the blond had ever encountered; the one with the strangely slanted crimson eyes and smooth skin still bearing the faded traces of a desert tan. This stranger was all the things Yugi wasn't, and never had been; confident, in control, poised, and-- Jounouchi snickered inwardly-- taller, though still rather short when compared to the others in their little group.

He wasn't, however, perfect. Jounouchi had witnessed how cruel the other could be firsthand. He was also brash, and willing to sacrifice almost anything to get what he wanted-- even if the sacrifice turned out to be a human life. 'Yami' was anything but perfect.

Jounouchi blinked, startled, as a warm hand was placed over his own. There was another difference between Yugi and his darkness, one of the smaller things nobody but Yugi's closest friends even noticed-- Yugi's hands were slightly callused, roughened by years of working on puzzles and games, while the other's were smooth as silk. The blond doubted that the darker half had ever done much physical labor of his own, which would definitely account for those almost-unnaturally smooth hands.

"Jounouchi-kun? Is something wrong?"

The blond shook himself out of his daydream and grinned at Yugi... Yami... whatever. "Sorry 'bout that. Guess I'm a bit tired."

Yami tilted his head slightly, looking at him. "You were staring. Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere important, buddy." He'd been staring? "So, we goin' or we stickin' around like a bunch of losers?

The crimson-eyed youth smirked, grabbing his deck off of the counter next to Jounouchi. "Going, of course. We're late as it is, so we'd better hurry."

The blond reached in his pocket to double-check on the safety of his note. "Yeah, about that..."

The place had been remarkably simple to sneak into. He hadn't even had to dodge the odd pudgy-rent-a-cop-with-a-gun ornamental, Malik mused sourly, slightly disappointed. Sure, he was all for covert operations and the like when necessary, but a little healthy violence and bloodshed wouldn't have hurt anything.

Irked, Malik patted his shirt pocket to make sure the two vials he'd brought were still intact, then set about straightening his windswept hair, tangled during the motorcycle drive to get there. With a small shake of his head he felt the straight blond locks fall neatly into place, and he made a vaguely self-satisfied sound in the back of his throat at the ease of which they did so.

For the second time in ten minutes, he let his mind dwell on the plan he had so meticulously constructed, which included all steps and probable reactions to those steps. It was remarkably simple compared to his other ploys, he had realized after going over it once, if a bit less direct than some. His sister had never accused him of being the most obvious grape in the bunch.

His first step was to locate the pharaoh and his groupies. If luck was even the slightest bit inclined to favor him, the one called 'Yami' would be relatively secluded. Malik slipped quietly into the large main room of the convention and let his gaze slowly scan the area. He spotted his victims easily. Gods-be-praised, the pharaoh and the blond stood alone in a corner, which also happened to be coincidentally located near a buffet table. Even more beneficial to his plans, the dark-haired female was nowhere in sight.

Now all he needed to do was wait for the perfect opportunity to slip the blond the potion. Since the two were alone, there would be no chance of the puppy seeing someone else the instant after drinking the potion. He would inevitable look at the per-aa, and then the gears of his plan would begin to turn. All he needed was the right moment.

As Malik settled down to watch the pair, he saw the blond separate from the pharaoh and head down the food table-- straight towards the punch.

The Egyptian smiled.

Beneath his jacket, carefully concealed, Katsuya Jounouchi cradled two darkly tinted bottles. He grinned mischievously to himself, slowly inching towards on of the punch bowls that graced the buffet table. It wasn't a real party until someone spiked the punch, he thought smugly. Not that Kaiba would approve.

Yeah, well, screw the bastard anyway. Jounouchi refused to let his mood be soured by thoughts of the prick. It was his party; if he wasn't keeping a close eye on things, then that punch deserved to be spiked. Kaiba probably wouldn't notice anyway; rich-boy likely had his own bowl of punch-- it wouldn't do to soil his mouth by drinking from the same bowl everyone else drank out of.

Still, Jounouchi thought idly, eyes darting around to see if he was being watched, seeing Kaiba drunk off his ass would have been amusing.

...He'd probably be a mean drunk, anyway. Not that the blond thought Kaiba could really top his usual bastard self just by consuming a little alcohol.

Stealthily, Jounouchi leaned against the food-laden table and reached into his jacket, producing one of the two bottles he had hidden. Trying to look as nonchalant as he possibly could, the blond slowly popped the cap and began pouring the contents of the bottle into the crimson liquid in the large bowl, careful not to splash.

Done, Jounouchi slowly lowered the now-empty bottle to the floor and inched it under the table, making sure that the stark white tablecloth hid any sign of glass. He turned and ambled away, but couldn't find it in himself to whistle cheerfully.

Damnit, it just wasn't as much fun alone. He usually did this kind of stuff with Honda, but, of course, he wasn't there. Honda was visiting Shizuka in the hospital. And who else was there? Yugi probably didn't even know the meaning of 'spike the punch' ("Is it some sort of game, Jounouchi-kun? *puzzled grin*"), and Anzu-- well, if he'd approached her with this kind of practical joke in mind, he'd have received that slightly disbelieving look she sometimes got, and been asked where he'd gotten the beer. That he'd lifted it from his father's stash didn't matter; he did it all the time, and it wasn't like his old man was gonna notice a couple of missing bottles. He was always too drunk to pay attention to the little things anymore.

Besides, Anzu wasn't around at the moment. The girl had struck off on her own a few minutes after arriving with them. Said she wanted to check out the cards and had headed straight towards the dealer room. Jounouchi wanted to visit there as well, eventually, because he'd heard so much about it. Supposedly, Kaiba had found all these Duel Monsters card shops and had convinced them to rent booths and sell their wares. Someone could probably find a lot of rare cards floating around. Of course Yami didn't really need rare cards, but it never hurt to look.

He grinned and glanced appraisingly at the nearest buffet table, piled high with food, all of it looking delicious. That the food was free would no doubt make it taste even sweeter in Jounouchi's mouth. Happily, he grabbed a plate and began to pile some of everything he could reach onto it-- everything except for food that looked even vaguely healthy, of course. If Kaiba was picking up the tab, why settle for anything less than total pig-out on junk food?

Sometimes he really loved his life.

Malik stole over to the food-covered table the moment he saw the blond pup make a beeline for the snacks. This was his chance, his one opportunity. All he had to do was hand the boy a cup of fruit juice laced with his own special additions while the blond was passing by. Simple, really. Remarkably so.

Darting a swift hand into his pocket, he carefully pulled out the two vials of liquid. Malik opened the first one, which held most of the love potion, deftly. With his free hand he removed the cork from the second vial, containing some sort of clear substance that could have been water, but wasn't. Summoning up the words of the incantation the book had clearly specified, he ever-so-carefully poured exactly one small drop of the clear liquid into the first vial, and spoke. The whispered words were fluid and graceful. They sent a chill of anticipation running down his spine.

"Sax f HAty n sp ba, HqA f in f Swt. SnH r f st-bi, I wr Hwt-Hr..." [1] Purple eyes watched gleefully as the contents of the first vial, which had once been a murky green, bubbled wildly as if somehow anxious to get underway, then cleared in one last rainbow swirl of colors. It was exactly as the spellbook had said it would be. The blond quickly ladled crimson punch into a paper cup, pouring the whole of the now-complete potion in afterwards.

He was only just in time, for at that exact moment the puppy had finally managed to fill his plate as high as physically possible and was carefully making his way towards the per-aa. Said crimson-eyed youth was leaning casually against a wall, ever watchful.

"Punch?" the psychotic blond genius (if he did say so himself) offered as the other youth ambled past.

Jounouchi paused, lowered the plate he was precariously balancing so that he could gaze over it and see who was talking to him, and blinked slowly at Malik for a moment. "Eh..." Amber eyes darted from Malik, to the offered cup, to another punch bowl farther down the table and then back again. The blond Egyptian had seen the other youth hanging around that particular punch bowl a few minutes earlier, and had thought nothing of it. Now he wondered, though none of it showed on his carefully pleasant face.

"...Sure. Thanks," The blond transferred the whole overflowing plate onto one hand, and for a moment Malik wondered whether everything would suddenly come crashing to the floor and create a nice mess of things. His doubts were in vain, however, as the other blond reached out and took the cup with the ease of long practice, pale fingers brushing against Malik's own tanned ones for the briefest fraction of an instant. Jounouchi grinned cheerfully at him. "I'm Katsuya Jounouchi."

"...There are those who call me Namu."

The blond shifted, re-balancing his plate. "Namu, huh? That's cool. So..." Amber eyes gave him a quick once-over. "You goin' as somebody, or is that yer everyday style?"

Odd sort of question, that. There were those attending the convention, he had noticed, that were taking part in an event called 'cosplay', in which they dressed up in a costume of their favorite duel monster, but he certainly wasn't participating in such a game. He had other games he was involved in.

Malik glanced down at himself, wondering what was wrong or out of place. He saw, as usual, a dark purple shirt that was short enough to show off his darkly tanned midriff, a pair of hip-hugging jeans, and a gold armband winding around his upper arm. Nothing unusual, was it? Perhaps he was a bit more eye-catching than most, but the other blond hadn't been referring to him in general, only to his clothing.

He pasted on a smile, hoping he looked vaguely polite. "...My normal fashion sense, I'm afraid."

"Eh. Well, I gotta get back," the blond looked away, towards the darkened corner where Yami stood, watching. "I'll talk to ya later, k?" And, without even waiting for a reply, Jounouchi was walking off. He didn't see the tight smile melt into a mocking smirk, nor did he see the malicious sparkle that flickered to life in Malik's eyes.

"Yes, we will..." the Egyptian muttered. Very soon, I should think, if the pharaoh has any mind towards your well being, Katsuya Jounouchi.

Though it seemed like some sort of modern miracle, Jounouchi made it over to his seat near Yami without spilling a single crumb of the food he had so greedily taken for himself. The blond liked to call that skill 'pure talent'.

"Want some?" He offered to his shorter companion. Yami gave a small shake of his head, eyes roaming the room for what felt like the thousandth time that night. The crimson-eyed youth was nervous; his very core was uneasy, and he had no idea why, though it might have something to do with the fact that the Rare Hunters had not shown their ugly faces for close to a week. Yami felt like the tension was pulling tighter, akin to a wound cord, and that soon, sooner than he would like, something would snap. All hell would break loose.

He just hoped he was prepared.

The blond shrugged nonchalantly, unaware of the direction of the darker boy's thoughts. "Your loss." He grunted, all attention now trained on his food as he attacked it with a vigor reserved for growing teenage boys. For the moment, the cup of punch lay, unassuming, on a small table set up for diners that the group had claimed for themselves.

Yami had always been dually amazed at the rate that Jounouchi could tuck away food. The first time he'd witnessed this strange phenomenon at one particular lunchtime with the group he had resorted to questioning Yugi, totally and utterly flabbergasted at what he saw. His smaller counterpart had smiled one of his almost-shy smiles and told him that most active teenage boys ate that way-- for them, it was the norm. To Yami, it was a mystery, one of the marvels of the modern world. Jounouchi could pack away in just one sitting what the dark-eyed youth couldn't handle in a week.

Said blond paused as if struck by a sudden thought, his plate of snacks almost clean. "Hey Yug'? Er... Yami?"

"Yes?" The shorter youth diverted his gaze for a brief instant towards the blond, then resumed his careful watch.

Jounouchi swallowed. This guy had always intimidated him a bit, and he didn't know if that was on purpose or not. "Are you and Yugi... I mean, is it all right if I talk to him...? Eh, what I mean..."

Yami, amused at the blond's sudden indecisiveness, felt a smirk tug insistently at his lips. "Yes, Yugi can hear you quite clearly. At the moment, we are... sharing, of a sort."

The blond blinked. That was sort of a creepy idea, to have someone sharing your body. It made him want to do an exorcism or something. "Ok. So... 'Yami', is it? How-- I mean, who--?" he stumbled over his words, feeling foolish. It was almost like asking your best friend who he was, exactly. It felt very odd, and probably sounded more so.

The crimson-eyed youth sighed, shifting so that he was staring straight at the flustered blond. "You are wondering who, or perhaps even what, I am, aren't you?"

Jounouchi swallowed at the intensity of those ruby red eyes. "...Yeah."

Exotically slanted orbs turned marginally sorrowful and were cast downwards, though Yami lost none of his outward poise. "I can't tell you that, Jounouchi, and it's not a deliberate evasion. I just... don't know. And I can't pass on information I don't possess."

"Oh." The blond stared down at his plate for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. "Well, when ya do find out, I'm first on the list, all right? I don't like bein' kept in suspense, ya know. Ya gotta let me know on these kinds of things." Appetite suddenly revived with a vengeance, he picked his plate clean and stood. "I'm gonna get some more grub. You want anything?"

The world-renowned King of Games had already turned back to his self-assigned post. "No. Thank you."

"Whatever." This guy never seemed to eat. No wonder he was so thin. Slightly appalled at Yami's lack of appetite, Jounouchi turned, eyes catching on a small object on the table. Punch. Right. He was thirsty, wasn't he? And someone had been nice enough to pour it for him, so he shouldn't let it go to waste. He grabbed the cup and started for the food once again, feeling satisfied.

Yeah, he was sort of thirsty, he realized. Some of that food had been dry. Cheap-ass Kaiba.

He downed the punch in one gulp, and felt liquid fire course through his veins. Vaguely, Jounouchi heard a crash, and realized that the other beer bottle he had been carrying had fallen to the ground and smashed into pieces, but that was the least of his worries.

Malik could only watch in horrified and dawning realization as the dumb blond flushed a dark red and dropped the empty plate and cup, stumbling directly away from the pharaoh-- and into the nearest bathroom.

Jounouchi stumbled, vision blurring slightly as he entered the bathroom, feeling sick. His insides were doing somersaults and his blood was burning in his veins, and all he could thing was that the beer he had stolen had been poisoned-- but he realized the punch given to him hadn't been from the bowl he had spiked.

He retched, feeling bile rise up in the back of his throat, and half-walked half-stumbled towards the trashcan stowed under the sinks. With one body-wracking heave his stomach began to empty it's contents into the bin, and he moaned. The blond absolutely hated being sick, especially when it came on this suddenly.

His insides gave another heave, and then another. Soon there was nothing left in him, and he could only reflexively dry-heave, feeling miserable. Sometime he really hated his life.

His head hurt, and his mouth tasted terrible. Stumbling dizzily to his feet, he pushed the trashcan back under the sink in disgust and made a grab for the cold-water tap on one of the sinks. A wave of nausea and dizziness over took him as he leaned down, and he had to keep his eyes tightly screwed shut as he thoroughly rinsed his mouth out.

The cold water felt soothing against the back of his throat, calming his stomach down, though his blood still felt overly heated. He desperately splashed water over his face in an effort to cool himself down, but it didn't seem to help. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Aw, did the poor Chihuahua eat a bad doggy biscuit? A fitting punishment for stuffing your face like some sort of overgrown ape."

Jounouchi froze, blood stilling in his veins. He knew that voice, all too well.

Slowly, steadying himself as he went, he twisted the faucet off and turned. In the sudden stillness of the bathroom, the blond found himself staring straight into the cold blue eyes of the last person he wanted to see when he was feeling so miserable.

Seto Kaiba.

[1] - Sax f HAty n sp ba; HqA f in f Swt. SnH r f st-b, I wr Hwt-Hr - Loosely translated, it means something like, "Transfigure his heart and soul; rule him by his identity (or his personality). Bind him to his affection, O great Hathor." Hathor was, I believe, the goddess of love and wine.

I've noticed you can always tell who my favorite characters are by my writing. They're either the main character or they get put through a veritable hell. Or both, actually.

I feel so sadistic. >.<

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