Chapter 1: Boy Meets Boy

I had been at the top of a hill when I tripped, lost my grip and my cycle began dragging me. I'd run out of gas an hour ago and walking home in the cold and dark was getting old. My attention had waned as I thought of all the ways I could end my self-imposed hardship and I failed to notice the change in the pavement height.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" I yelled as I tried to slow the vehicle to no avail. There was a time when a word that coarse wouldn't have been in my vocabulary, but now it was frequent.

Suddenly, there were extra hands helping me and three of us eased the motorcycle to the bottom of the hill.

"You cool dude?" It was Japanese but the speaker was blond, looked and sounded American — the rough, street kid type that good boys like me are far too often attracted to. The other boy was Japanese. Both were about my age — 17 or so.

"Yes, thank you." I answered. It was late and no part of town was a good one to be alone with strangers.

"You need a hand?" The other one offered.

"Yeah, which junkyard you hauling this piece of crap to?" The American laughed.

His friend hit him. "Joey! Where are you going? We'll help out."

"Thank you but it's not necessary," I deflected. "I have several miles further."

"Oh. Well, we're not far from here. Maybe you can fix it. Do you know what's wrong?"

"No gas." I answered simply.

"No prob. There's a gas station a couple blocks that way."

"No cash." I added.

The American shrugged. "We can spot you a gallon or two, that'll get you home, right?"

I protested, but they ignored me and we wheeled my cycle to the gas station.

"I'm Honda, he's Joey."

"Tak." I said.

"Please to meet you, Tak." No honorific but I wasn't surprised. The American wasn't the polite sort. He shook his head as I pumped one gallon of gas. "Seriously, this thing should be put out of its misery." He mimed shooting it.

"It's the only transportation I own." I answered, which was technically true; my father's corporation owned everything else.

They paid for my gas and the cycle started with no trouble. I thanked them profusely before heading home to the one-room closet I called an apartment.

I checked my emails and replied to everything, urgent or not. The trick to my little vacation was to not have anyone looking for me. My personal secretary, Mazaki, and I left the big city and came to a small town. Frankly, I hadn't even bothered to learn its name. There was nothing here, no reason for any executive to come here and perfect for what I wanted - nothing. Mazaki answered my calls and only contacted me if I actually had to make an appearance or something was about to go critical. That gave me time for the first time in my life to do nothing. I rode my motorcycle, played video games, hung out at the local mall and generally acted like a 17-year-old boy. I stopped wearing my trademarked dueling jacket or the western style suits my Father preferred and let my hair grow long. I went to a thrift store and bought five shirts and three pairs of pants for the whole two-month stay. No one recognized me.

That was a very good thing. My Father was out of the country and would be for another month. That meant I had another month to relax before I had to get home and go back to being the most valued son. As if I ever had been.

My brother and I were adopted. My Father, Kaiba Gozaburo, was making a photo op out of an orphanage donation and I challenged him to a chess game, swearing him on camera to adopt us if he lost. He's never forgiven me for beating him. He honored the terms and adopted us both but my new status has come with a heavy price. My Father expected only the highest and best from me. Anything less was worthy of severe punishment. He rarely left visible bruises but he was not averse to slapping, punching, caning, humiliating or whatever else he could think of when we were alone or he was drunk. The only thing Father and I agreed on was my brother, Mokuba.

Mokuba was the light of our collective lives. He was what made me go on when our biological family died and he won even Gozaburo's heart within days. Mokuba adored our Father and it was for his sake that I endured the man.

The Kaiba name and wealth had given me some rare opportunities and I demonstrated CAD abilities at an early age. Shortly after my adoption, I was working with Kaiba Corp designers on everything from weapon systems to home décor sims. But my personal passion was for games and especially dueling.

My first Duel Disk was so wildly popular that we were able to fund Kaiba Game Corp from it. It was my company; I owned 40% with my Father and brother owing 30% each. I spend most of my time either designing new Dueling tech or running the corp. But when I realized that I would have two months to myself, I decided to skip town and play hooky.

For the most part, it had been heaven. I got up when I wanted, ate what I wanted, associated with whom I wanted and wanted nothing more. Mokuba was in boarding school in France; once a week he called me and we caught up. Father only called if the stock price dipped significantly. Everyone else I handled issue-by-issue.

And it wasn't a complete waste of time. I was learning what Duelist actually thought of our products, how they really used them and what improvements were needed. I was learning how to manage cash — most of my life if I had to pay I simply used plastic. I was picking my own restaurants and doing my own laundry and all kinds of things that normal people do every day but I'd never even done once prior to this vacation. Mazaki had been invaluable during my first week.

Two days after I ran out of gas, I got 'paid' and was able to fill up my tank. I went back to the neighborhood where I'd meet Honda and Joey and simply hung out. Eventually I spotted them. They were carrying backpacks and wearing school uniforms.

I pulled up next to them. "Honda-san, Joey-san! I was hoping I'd find you."

"Hey, Tak! Still haven't put her out of her misery, eh?" Joey laughed.