Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Sasae motte Touhou ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

JoeysGal: I must warn you, the chapters in this fic are going to be short and sweet. It's not going to be a long story, and I probably won't time to update too often, but I just wanted to give it a shot anyway. I don't know if the title makes sense; it was a rough translation on a website I found (Rena - I'm sorry, I lost your email about the title suggestion). I also tried extremely hard to make my character as anti-Mary-Sueish as possible… thus it being written in first-person POV. There is a possibility that her name will never be revealed. I always seem to find that the moment your female OC utters her name, you can just about hear the sound of your readers clicking the “back” button in their internet browsers. So without further ado, here is my latest work of YGO fiction. I take any type of criticism, but I genuinely think you guys are going to like this one… please let me know what you think!

 

 

“Sasae motte Touhou”

Written and edited by: JoeysGal

Type: It's just a story.

Genre: Romance/Comedy, mainly.

Rating: If you think you're old enough to handle foul language and a bit of smut, be my guest.

 

Chapter One

 

 

 

 

It was one of those days, one of those cold, miserable spring days that lead you into a false sense of security, being that the past few days had been warm and, well, springy. You were about to shove all your winter clothes to the bottom of your drawer and suddenly you realise it was probably a good idea you didn't, because today was cold, like the first frost of the winter, and everyone starts saying “looks like winter's on its' way” so many times that you actually don't bother waiting for the weather to come on television because you know that every day for the next three months is going to be the same: cold.

 

It was also one of those days where you hesitated to get up in the morning; thought about calling in sick just because you didn't want to get out of the warm depths of the cocoon commonly known as your bed. For me, I didn't have much of a choice. The holidays were almost over - a harsh reminder that I had at least a thousand dollars still yet to save before I could buy a one-way ticket home. My determination to return home was dwindling, as it seemed impossible to save anything you earned and live independently in this beautiful but expensive country known as Japan.

 

A friend of mine had landed me a temping job in a lawyer's practice in which her father was a partner of. However hideous it could be sometimes, it earned me my keep and ever-so-slowly my savings account balance increased. I was fresh out of high school and in desperate need for some source of income. Living in Japan for the past three years had been amazing; I had met some of the best friends I could ever ask for, seen sights so beautiful that they made me break down and bawl, eaten some of the best food I had ever tasted and gotten so spectacularly drunk, waking up thinking “damn, I feel like shit. But damn, it was worth it”.

 

I was somewhat of a novelty, working here at this practice. Being fluent now in Japanese and also English definitely had its oddities. Clients would walk into reception, gawk at me for a moment, and then politely ask me if I could understand or speak Japanese. Reassuring them that I did, they appeared somewhat embarrassed and took their seats. It wasn't until today - this stormy, freezing cold March day - that things at work began to get interesting.

 

“I need some typing done, urgently.” Yokita-san - the practitioner for whom I primarily worked - said, somewhat flustered, as he slapped a thick pile of documents onto my desk. “My client will be here in…” he checked his watch. “Now.”

 

“Thanks for the heads' up.” I muttered as he walked away. I looked down at the draft copy of the contract with Yokita's writing on it and began typing. It wasn't until I noticed who the contract was actually for, that I realised why Yokita appeared to be so on edge.

 

As if by magic, the elevator doors opened and a man who appeared to be in his early twenties walked through. I could tell merely by his appearance that he was a man not to be messed with; despite the fact he seemed so young. He was clad in a fine-quality black suit, shiny black leather shoes and smelt - not overpoweringly so - of Giorgio Armani. Dark hair was cropped and styled to a perfect business-like manner, yet trendily so, with what looked like a slick of styling product through it.

 

There was absolutely no mistaking that husky, somewhat guarded voice, “I am here to see Yokita-san at eleven o'clock.”

 

Hiromi - the portly, middle-aged Japanese woman who answered the phones - looked as if she were about to spontaneously combust. Her face reddened and she couldn't stop smiling as she scurried off to find Yokita-san and let him know that his client had arrived.

 

Seto Kaiba made himself comfortable on one of the couches in the reception waiting area. I was somewhat stunned myself, knowing that one of the biggest business tycoons in the world was sitting about three metres away from me. I almost felt a little bit overwhelmed. Seto Kaiba was a celebrity, after all, famed none other for his intelligence, money and good looks. He looked even better in real life, I realised, and the moment he looked at me for the first time, my heart about leapt into my throat.

 

Those eyes… They were his trademark. They had women and men alike going weak at the knees, and though he was known around the globe for having striking blue eyes, there was nothing quite like being able to witness them first hand. I almost felt privileged, before the more realistic side of my brain reminded me that he was even more notorious for being known as an arrogant, snobby jerk with too much money and the personality of a slug. The type of slug that eats your lettuces that you tried so hard to grow.

 

With that thought firmly in mind, I went back to typing furiously. This was no reason to get fired, after all.

 

Yokita-san came striding into reception with a confident smile on his face. Kaiba obviously took this as his cue and stood up to greet him.

 

“How nice to meet you, Mr. Kaiba. Do you take coffee, or tea?” Yokita asked, clearly kissing his ass.

 

“Coffee. White with one, thank you.”

 

Yokita quickly approached my desk. “Could you make us some coffee? And bring those contracts in with you too, please.”

 

Like I had a choice. “No problem.” Smiling sweetly.

 

Kaiba glanced at me once, nodding his thanks, before following Yokita-san to his office. His expressionless face unnerved me a little. But from the scant information I knew about the man, it was understandable. Not that I really wanted to think about feeling remotely sorry for him. He had everything, didn't he? He didn't need my pity, that was for sure.

 

Making the two coffees - a task I had become accustomed to since I had succumbed to the habit myself at the age of 16 - I swooped up my documents from my desk on the way past and rounded the corner to Yokita's office. It appeared they were in deep conversation about the purchase of a building in which Kaiba planned to buy, restore, and use as a museum-slash-shrine for everything and anything related to Duel Monsters - his specialty. Anyone who didn't know about Kaiba's obsession for the game and technology must have been living under a rock for the past… five years, give or take. I wasn't even living in Japan five years ago and I knew about the Chosen One and his empire.

 

“Your coffee,” I stated, setting the drinks down on Yokita's desk. “And your contracts.”

 

An hour had passed before the door to Yokita's office finally opened. There were a few words of gratitude exchanged between both parties before Yokita saw his client off. Kaiba Seto walked - one might almost say glided - gracefully into the foyer. I regretted to say that he startled me as he halted on the other side of my desk. I glanced at him curiously, blinking.

 

"Can I help you...?"

 

"You make a very good cup of coffee."

 

I nearly snorted. Thank God I didn't. "Um...sure…"

 

"I wondered if you might be interested in working for me. I could do with a cup of coffee like that every morning." His voice was cool and collected.

 

A most absurd thought came to mind. "You want to hire me because I make a good cup of Joe?"

 

He closed his cerulean eyes, smiling somewhat amusedly. "I think I could offer you a better opportunity than this place could, just quietly."

 

I imagined how good it would look to have "secretary - six months - Kaiba Corporation" splashed onto my CV. I would get hired anywhere in the world after having worked at Kaiba's company, wouldn't I? Imagine it, using the Seto Kaiba as a reference for my next job I landed at home. Nobody would ever believe it. "What would I be doing?"

 

"Why don't we discuss that over dinner?"

 

I felt like a vice had just been closed over my chest; this I was definitely not expecting. "Dinner?" I croaked. "Uh..." I looked into his confident, unwavering expression. "Okay."

 

"I'll have someone pick you up at seven," He said. "I'll need your address."

 

Tonight! I thought. Fuck! With my heart thumping like a male gorilla in mating season, I fumbled to find a pen and scribbled my address down on a piece of scrap paper. He folded it neatly and put it into the pocket inside his suit jacket.

 

"I'll see you tonight. Dress nicely."

 

Before I had time to fully comprehend the meaning of that statement, Kaiba had walked effortlessly through the elevator doors. I sat, staring at those doors for what seemed like an age, the phones ringing off the hook. What did he mean by 'dress nicely', anyway? Casual? Classy? Cocktail? Formal? Black tie? Birthday suit? It would help if I knew where we were apparently going.

 

Hiromi stared at me. "He asked you out!" she suddenly blurted, as if I didn't already know.

 

"Yeah..." I replied slowly, still waiting for it to all sink in myself. "I just don't quite believe it."

 

**

 

JoeysGal: So? What's the verdict so far? Let me know in your review! Ta ta.