Jounouchi Katsuya walks down the empty dark street, hands in his pockets, and a furious look on his face. Why is Kaiba Seto like that? Not even the death of his lover fazes him in the least? What kind of person is Kaiba, anyway?

The night is dark, and Jounouchi finds that he likes it that way. When he was alive—the first time? Is he still alive now? —he used to revel in the light. The sun would bring out the light in himself, and the way it shone on everything he saw just brought his spirits up no matter what his mood. But now it seems as if his entire life has turned into a negative photo. The light that comes from the tall streetlights is more than enough brightness for this new Jounouchi.

Looking down at his own hands, he sees the same things he had seen the years before that fateful day. Those were his hands, weren't they? They felt like his hands. They had those calluses from work around the house. There was that scar from when Honda missed when cutting pie. The bloody cuticles from his merciless teeth. He can't see the dark color of his skin from the lack of light, but he knows it's there, from his days in that hateful sun.

Then why can't Kaiba see it? How can he not recognize the same hands that had caressed him, held him? That he had kissed, licked, held? These are the same hands, damn it! He finally seems to realize that he's stopped walking, and is simply standing on the sidewalk, staring at his hands.

Then he sees the dark limousine that's rolled up next to him silently. The windows are tinted black, and Jounouchi can see his own surprised expression reflected in them. He's draw impulsively to it, and puts a warm hand on the car door's smooth, cold surface. The window rolls down and he can dimly make out the shape of a man in the darkness of the interior of the car.

"Hello, Katsuya." What? Who does this man think he is, to so coolly use his first name? As if they're close friends?

"Who are you?" Jounouchi asks suspiciously, lifting his hand from the car. It leaves a light mark that begins to fade immediately. Jounouchi takes several steps back, slowly, waiting for the man to answer.

"You do not recognize your own father?" A chuckle comes from the car, but it's a sinister, cold laugh. Jounouchi shivers despite his jacket, and finds himself afraid. He hasn't felt like this in so long a time that at first he's unsure as to what the feeling puddling in his chest is at all. Not much scares the jaded Jounouchi Katsuya.

"You're not my father." Jounouchi moves away a bit further, only to find himself bumping into something hard. He turns his head and smells the sharp tangy aroma of sweat. What's going on?

"Fine, not biologically. But who do you think brought you back to this wondrous form once again? You really do have a magnificent body. Healthy, and in perfect condition for my plan. Unfortunately, though, if you decide to make this difficult for me, I'll have to ruin that lovely visage a bit. Not too much. I don't want to deliver Kaiba damaged goods." Another laugh, and he feels a thick, strong grip on his upper arm. He's strong for his age, but this man is strong for a lion. There's no way he is escaping this dilemma unscathed.

Then again, logical reasoning is Kaiba's forte. Jounouchi is the jump-right-in-and-get-your-ass-kicked sort. He tries to pull his arm away from the iron grip it's in, only to hurt himself in the process, and fail in budging the other man. "Please, Katsuya, don't fight Mr. Barker. He's not a very patient man, you'll find." Jounouchi ignores the man's distracting words and turns to punch the man in the jaw.

He's pushed to the ground roughly before he can so much as lift a fist. He lands face first, and slides on the sidewalk a few inches. Several parts of his body smart painfully, but he pushes the pain away into the back of his mind. He lifts up his fists once he's up, waiting expectantly for the man the approach and attack. He's not expecting the blow to the back of head. Right before everything goes black, and his thoughts fade to nothing, he hears the sinister chuckle again.

"Tsk, tsk. You really are my son. Who else would be as painfully stubborn?"

Kaiba glances up at the beep. It takes him a few seconds to realize it means that he's gotten an email. He almost decides to ignore it and leave it for the next day, but he's not that great a slacker, in truth. So he opens his laptop slowly, and clicks on the little envelop button.

Dear Kaiba Seto, reads the email. Kaiba immediately knows it's not from one of his employees, and they're the only people with his email to begin with. Have you enjoyed the little gift I sent you? If you'd like to see more of the same, please contact me. And do not make an attempt to contact any authorities. Don't underestimate me, Kaiba Seto. What? How did this person get his email? Is this a stupid joke from that American toddler who likes to consider herself a hacker, Hawkings? Another beep announces the arrival of a second email. Kaiba opens this one with a slightly moment's hesitant.

Dear Kaiba Seto, I'm sorry for being so impatient, but I want an answer soon. Well, I hope you did enjoy his visit, because his next visit won't come cheap. Don't worry; I don't plan on having you pay hourly for him, like some common whore. I was thinking more in a kidnapping kind of way, even though I started out with him to begin with. Or bet yet, an auction. Kaiba feels his hands tightening into fists instinctively. Someone's trying to hurt his puppy? No one gets away with animal cruelty if Kaiba has anything to do with it . . .

So, Kaiba, how about it?

Kaiba growls as at the screen. This isn't Hawking's style, really. Anyway, Hawkings was brainwashed by Yuugi, wasn't she? She went to college, too, he heard. Genius girl would be too busy making friends and loving them to worry about how to possibly bring the puppy back from the dead. And all that friendship garbage would really hinder her from blackmailing him, too.

Which reminds him . . . should he tell Yuugi?

Yeah, the same Yuugi who'd been crying hysterically at the funeral. If you had seen him you would have thought that his life was now over, the way he was carrying on. But then again, Yuugi had always been that sensitive type, the innocent one that has to be protected by the others forever. How would he respond to having his best friend back again?

He'd do anything. Even if there's the change that this 'Jou' isn't even real. Yuugi's loyal—and clingy—that way.

No. No need to make Yuugi more distressed than absolutely is needed to. No need to include anyone else, in fact, not even Jounouchi's own family. At the funeral, he saw Jounouchi's father snap. He kept saying that he only wished he'd known his son better . . . if only, if only . . . it would not help that man to see his son again, just to be reminded of his past mistakes. He's trying to make it all up to his daughter. That's all he can do now.

And Shizuka . . . she'd never forgiven him for taking Jounouchi away from her. In her irrational mind, Jounouchi's lessened attention towards her would have eventually ended in him abandoning her. And Kaiba was the reason for that lessened attention. No, he can one-handedly handle this hacker. He's go enough talent to go face to face against such a skill-full opponent. And in turn find out that disturbing truth about the leprechaun.

After a few clicks of his mouse, he begins typing. How much do you want?

Jounouchi Katsuya has been in the dark, dank room for such a long time . . . it's completely pitch black and it feels to Jounouchi that it's smothering him all his sense. Everything feels the same, rough and dry. Everything smells the same, even his hands smell like the stone that lines the ground and floor. He's hungry, but his voice will only echo in this place, and return to him. He can't eat the rock, either . . . he's tried.

The only thing that seems to change are the sounds. Outside, muffled screams ring through Jounouchi's ears. He wants to cover them up, but he isn't sure he would even be able to find them in this inky blankness. They don't sound human, these cries of pain and anguish. They don't sound like animals, either. What are these things that make these noises? There's an explanation for this, only one he can think of . . . but he won't allow himself to think of it. It's too much. If he admits to this explanation . . .

No.

His name is Jounouchi Katsuya. He's nineteen years old. He has blonde hair and light brown eyes. He's five foot seven. He's—

"He's bailed you out, Katsuya, just as I knew he would. It took him about an hour, though, to get everything worked out. 100.000.000 yen for me, and you for him! For a day, of course. You don't come cheap." It's the same voice from the limousine. That drawl, that cackle that he lets out after he's done speaking . . . it's odious. Jounouchi just wants to get his hands on the man so he can strangle him. How dare he do this to him! He's not his father. His father is at home . . . how is his father? He hadn't even asked Seto about his family, his friends.

Jounouchi hears a door swing open and his eyes burn as the light shines through. He cries out in pain and scuttles away from the little. "Oh, dear Katsuya, are you not going to answer me? Don't hide, little one. Don't you want to see your precious Kaiba again? Feel his body against yours, his voice in your ears, his scent in your nose?"

The makes Jounouchi feels as if his desires are insignificant. He wants all those things, but the man makes them feel small, stupid. He crawls towards the door anyway. Before he reach the outside on his own, he feels a strong hand lift him to his feet. The light is still blinding him, though less than before. He cannot make out the man's face, yet.

"Come along. I must freshen you up before I send you on your way to Kaiba." He's pulled down the bright hallway and wonders how this light didn't shine beneath the door. On and on they walk, until Jounouchi just about thinks he's going to collapse. He can't take this, the light's still too bright and the man's cologne is too powerful and—

"We're here, darling."

The room isn't as bright as the hallway and he look in without his eyes crying out in pain. It's empty except for a long, plain white table in the middle of the room with two chairs on either side of it. Seated on the chair facing him is a beautiful young woman. Her hair is long but seems to hang limply off her scalp, if someone shot it with a twelve gauge.

Her expression is . . . she doesn't seem to rally have one. She looks at him, but doesn't seem to see him. It frightens him, and he wants to leave. Either that or put her out of her misery. Is it possible that . . . she really doesn't feel anything?

"Ah," the man lets out a loud sigh of remembrance, and places a hand on the woman's shoulder. "This is my very first model. I keep her around to remind me of my first wonderful achievement." He looks down at the woman with a sick mix of happiness and pride on his face. Jounouchi has an overpower urge to shove this man's face into a boiling pot of iron. He's about to try the next best thing and bash this man's face in when said man chuckles.

It wasn't just any chuckle. It made Jounouchi's blood freeze in his veins. He couldn't move. Don't take it the wrong way; he wasn't paralyzed with fear or surprise. He just couldn't move. "Silly, silly boy. You think I would give you complete independence? You are a perfect specimen, and I am not going to let such a beautiful creature such as you do anything . . . undesirable." This man could control him?

Jounouchi finds himself sitting in the chair across from the android. For the first in his life he feels completely alone and defeated. He can't even control his own life. Kaiba was right, he wasn't Jounouchi Katsuya. The Jounouchi Katsuya whose memories he had was never this weak, this powerless. Although he doesn't know it, his face nearly mirrors the android's; devoid of hope and life.

That took a long time, now didn't it?