Stumbling into Victory 7
Jonathan YukawaBrockton Bay, NH, USA
I hefted a stock pot in my mitted hands as I shuffled out of Sean’s car. It was a chilly forty-two degrees, but that worked out for me. Luke and Sean eventually convinced me into coming to this frat party.
If nothing else, it seemed like a decent way to close out my spring break. I didn’t get to hang out with my flatmates enough.
“Can’t believe you made three liters of mulled wine, dude,” Luke said as he got out behind me. “You know you didn’t have to, right?”
“I had a recipe I’ve been meaning to try out. Besides, I feel awkward if I visit someone’s house empty-handed,” I replied with a carefree shrug. “It’s conditum paradoxum, a Roman mulled wine recipe that dates to 20 AD.”
“Sounds fancy. What’s in it?”
“It’s dates, honey, black pepper, mastic powder, and ground spikenard and a bit of saffron. You just stir it in a half-decent pinot and you’ll get something drinkable.”
“I have no idea what half of those are but sure, dude. I already paid you for my share, right?”
“Yup. Thanks for pitching in,” I said sincerely. The wine was cheap, but some of those additives were not, not if I wanted to bring enough to the party to count as a contribution.
The party was at a classic frat house. It used to be a set of same-y row houses that the university took over a few decades ago. At least, according to Luke, who actually knew the guys who lived here. I didn’t even know the name of the frat.
We went inside and I set down the mulled wine before my friends introduced me to their friends. I recognized a few of the guys from my classes, though we hadn’t talked much. For the most part, these guys knew each other either from frat or intramural baseball.
We played darts and bitched about how shitty it was that we only had a week off until someone inevitably brought out the weed. Now that I thought about it, the weed was probably why Luke never tried for anything past intramural. Any league higher level than that would test for drugs.
I drank and took small puffs when the joint passed my way until I built up a dull buzz. The evening faded into a pleasant haze as more people arrived. At some point, I found myself playing beer pong against Rory, the mayor’s son. He also happened to be Triumph, the newest graduate of the Brockton Bay Wards program.
I was surprised that my flatmates knew him, but apparently, he and Luke had been friends since little league baseball. It was trippy as hell to see a hero smoke a joint; not even medical marijuana was legal in New Hampshire. Then again, it certainly beat the alternative.
“Drink, Jon,” he said, arms crossed with a satisfied smile as the ping pong ball made its way into my last cup.
Triumph was a much more relaxed guy than in costume. Then again, it could have been the weed. I found it hilarious that the professional hero smoked more than anyone.
I couldn’t blame him. Not only was he a hero in the shithole that was Brockton Bay, he was also the mayor’s son. That meant he got dragged around for every public relations op so Mayor Christner could look like the ideal family man for the cameras. Rory probably needed this to take the edge off.
I laughed goodnaturedly and chugged the cup. Luke punched me lightly on the arm before passing me the joint. “Yo, I thought you were good with your hands.”
“I’m good at making random shit. I don’t really handle my booze well, though,” I replied. If my increased ba helped with my fortitude, it wasn’t enough to be noticeable yet.
“Eh, it’s cool, dude. You want a glass of water? You’re looking pretty flushed.”
“I’m good, man. I’ll get it myself. I think I'll go find a place to nap if you don’t mind. If I forget, can you get the pot back?”
“Sure, man, I got you.”
I looked for a glass, but so many people had arrived by now that I couldn’t find an unused one. So, I just refilled mine with mulled wine and picked up a few dinner rolls. The starch would help soak up the alcohol.
The row house had a big backyard with a big ol’ fire pit in the middle. The guys who lived here held cookouts pretty regularly in the summer. It had only recently been freed from the New Hampshire slush and a few guys were talking about lighting the fire pit.
I headed outside and claimed a lawn chair, sipping at my glass with a lazy smile. The cool air felt nice compared to the overheated interior. The body heat alone made it stuffy and not everyone knew how to apply deodorant.
I was already starting to feel sleepy and I’d only had the equivalent of two beers and two glasses of wine, barely anything for a college party. I’d always been like this, a sleepy drunk who preferred a cozy couch over socializing.
‘Yugi never developed a taste for alcohol, either,’ Atem said in my mind. ‘Joey and Tristan on the other hand…’
‘Heh, that doesn’t surprise me. They do seem like party boys,’ I mused. ‘Were you a big drinker in life, Atem?’
‘I was. Although, at the time, it was a matter of necessity. Water was not always clean so milk or beer were very popular choices. As the pharaoh, I was fortunate enough to have honeyed wine if I preferred.’
I perked up at his words. It was always fascinating, hearing such things from someone who’d lived in that era. ‘Ah, that’s true; alcohol is antimicrobial and wine was probably imported.’
‘Yes. I did develop a taste for fruit wines because of it. Your mulled wine is quite nice, actually.’
‘Are… Are you drinking in my soulscape?’
‘Of course. You didn’t think you could leave me out of the celebrations, did you?’ he chuckled. ‘Although, I admit parties were very different back in my day.’
‘Is that right? I would have thought drunk boys dancing like idiots was a timeless part of the human experience.’
‘You have fewer contests of strength or magic for starters. And no, darts and beer pong do not count.’
‘Fair enough. Say, what were they like? Those magic duels. I mean, I know that shadow games are a big deal, but you didn’t always wager your soul, right? Did you ever have monster fight clubs just for fun?’
‘No, we did not wager souls for party favors,’ he said dryly. ‘When I said magic was performed in festivals back in my time, I was not talking about such high-stakes games. Most of the time, they were ceremonial performances or rituals led by the priesthood. In that sense, a “party” back in my day was almost akin to a religious celebration.’
‘So no monster fight club?’
‘Hmm… I did hear that some of my palace guards had a few wagers of that nature amongst themselves. In the name of training, of course,’ he said, chuckling.
‘Of course,’ I laughed with him. Turned out, army folks were the same no matter the era. Not every guardsman had magic, but those who could probably got a kick out of it when circumstances allowed. ‘You never attended one? Maybe called it a “readiness inspection?”’
‘Alas, I was far too important to be invited to such things and I would have felt guilty imposing. It was not easy for the pharaoh to associate with those beneath my station, even if I personally wished otherwise.’
‘That makes sense. They probably thought you had more cultured tastes.’
‘Quite.’
‘Did everyone have a special spirit? You know, like your Dark Magician or Kaiba’s Blue-Eyes.’
‘The word you are looking for is “ka.” Every spirit bound to a stone tablet can be called a ka, but the most powerful of us did have unique relationships with certain spirits. Most others, such as my elite guard, simply used what they had available, as you do.’
‘Did you ever use monsters for something silly? You know, not war or honor duels.’
‘I was the pharaoh. I’m afraid I was far too busy for frivolities,’ Atem said with an awkward cough. He was dodging the question without outright lying, that sneak. As if sensing my skepticism, he deflected, ‘However, I have it on good authority that Seto loved to fly atop his dragon. He was not quite so stiff as people assumed.’
‘That sounds incredible. Riding around on Blue-Eyes probably put a lot of things into perspective,’ I said. I certainly wouldn’t mind riding dragonback, especially a dragon that didn’t need to be fed.
‘I’m sure it was. Would you like one? A bound ka of your own.’
That caught me off guard. A spark of excitement drove away the wine-buzz. ‘I can? Of course I would. I didn’t think I was ready.’
‘You will not be able to bind a powerful ka just yet.’
‘Is that what the levels of Duel Monsters cards are?’
‘That is one indication, yes, though I would not judge a spirit on that alone.’
‘How does the binding work? Do I just wish for a card and get it? I have a wishlist if I get to choose.’
‘If you made a haphazard attempt to seek out a spirit, the best possible outcome would be that you could not reach them. To put it simply, your connection would not be strong enough,’ he explained. ‘However, you could attempt to bind a spirit that has already answered your summons.’
‘Silver Fang. Or any of the monsters I have now. But that makes no sense. What’s the point of having a specific ka if I can already summon so many other monsters? How is a bound ka different from Silver Fang or Firegrass?’
‘Being closely bonded to a spirit would permit you to “filter” your search, if you will. To put it in terms of Duel Monsters, you would be able to seek out booster packs that house cards of that archetype. Further, cards which support the attribute or type would be more likely to fall into your hands.’
‘So I can move on from the Legend of Blue Eyes booster? I don’t think I have any card that has an archetype like that, though.’
‘Then you will have to wait. We can move to a new booster pack if you’d like, though the odds will be far more random.’
‘Maybe. I’ll think about it. Thanks, Atem.’
‘Think nothing of it. Advising you is merely my job.’
I dozed in and out of consciousness. At one point, one of Luke’s buddies came out with a liter of kerosene from the local 7-Eleven to get the fire started. It was perfect, cozy without being stuffy or humid.
The next thing I knew, I awoke to Sean giggling like a child. I blinked blearily up at him before registering the permanent marker in his hand. Behind him were Luke and Anne, who’d arrived some time during my nap.
I slapped it aside with a grunt of annoyance. “There’s a dick on my face, isn’t there?”
“Heh, sorry, bro. Couldn’t help myself,” Sean said, utterly unapologetically.
“Fine, whatever. I’m comfy. You can make it up to me by getting me pizza. It arrived, right?”
“Aight, I got you,” he said, giving me a lopsided grin before heading back inside.
I turned to Luke and Anne. “How bad is it?”
Anne took a seat next to me. “Eh, not that bad. Luke made sure he used the washable marker.”
I nodded and offered him a fist bump. “Yup. Luke's a bro.”
“And you still can't handle alcohol.”
“I wouldn't say that. Jon had four glasses before you arrived,” Luke added, taking a seat as well.
I held up my now cold glass. Shrugging, I polished it off. Mulled wine was best warm, but wine was wine. “Yup. That. Besides, I can handle alcohol fine. It's the people inside that I find annoying.”
Anne laughed and clicked her glass to mine. “Let me guess? You let Luke drag you around a bit then came out here to nap like an old man?”
“Bingo. You know me well, Anne. How's life? Did you visit family for spring break?”
She let out a frustrated groan. Next to her, I could see Luke zoning out of the conversation. “Don't even get me started,” she said. “My little sister grew up to be such a drama queen. It’s always something with her.”
“Is this the same sister who told you that I'm probably an ABB gangbanger?" I asked dryly, already knowing the answer. She'd said a lot worse.
I'd only met Emma once, back when Anne and I were dating. Anne knew I didn't have family in the city and, being traditionally Japanese, didn't celebrate Thanksgiving. Seeing how I had no commitments, she invited me to her family dinner. It was the single most awkward meal I'd ever had in either lives.
I hadn't had my alternate self's memories then, but I still felt the judgment from Alan and Emma. Alan spent the evening implying that I was using Anne for money and Emma straight up told Anne that she shouldn't go anywhere alone with me or meet any of my friends.
I'd never wanted to punch a girl more in my life. Suffice to say, I didn't go back. Now that I thought about it, I wondered if one of the reasons Anne had been chill about breaking up was because of pressure from family.
Anne visibly winced. I remembered laughing it off at the time, but she still felt guilty about it. “Ah, yeah… I still feel terrible about that. She’s such a little shit. I don’t know what her deal is.”
“Nah, it's good. I told you before, you don't have to apologize for someone else's actions,” I said, lightly punching her arm.
After all, I now did know what Emma's deal was. A part of me even understood. Back when we were dating, she and Alan must have had their incident mere months before, during the summer. Given Emma didn't exactly get therapy, I could see why me dating her sister was so triggering.
Didn't mean the little shit didn't piss me off, but I understood. I pitied Anne. She had to watch her little sister crumble without any idea why it was happening. She was told that Alan and Emma got mugged and was saved by Shadow Stalker, but didn’t know the psychotic influence Sophia had on her kid sis.
I listened to Anne complain about her family for a while longer before heading home. She sometimes ribbed me over being a sleepy drunk but she wasn’t much better at holding her wine; she was just more extroverted about it than I was. Hell, she didn’t even really enjoy wine. She confided she only drank in social situations because she thought it looked classy.
Now that I thought about it, I never did get that pizza from Sean. He was a pretty chill dude, but he was also drunk and high. Nothing personal, he probably just got distracted talking to someone and forgot.
Just as well, there was a decent dive bar and pizzeria nearby that served a slice and a canned soda for two bucks per combo until two in the morning. I grabbed a slice of the Godfather, their equivalent of a meat lover’s, and ate as I walked home.
I was fifteen minutes away from the dorm when I remembered that the frat house still had my stock pot, but shrugged. Luke or Sean could get it for me later. Just as I was starting to appreciate the peaceful night, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number.
My first instinct was Coil. He must have found my identity via Lisa, or maybe by having me followed at a distance. Then I remembered that I was, loosely speaking, on friendly terms with him at the moment.
Sure, I planned on slitting his throat at the earliest opportunity, but he didn’t know that. Making a hard push by attempting to blackmail me in my civilian life made zero sense if he considered me an asset.
Thus reasoned, I reassured myself and picked up the phone. “Hello? Who’s this?”
“Jonathan? Hey… How’s it going?” came a voice I’d recognize anywhere. She usually sounded more confident than this, though.
“Alice? Alice Matsuri?”
“Ahaha… Hi… It’s been a while.”
“Three years. We haven’t talked since senior year. What’s going on? You on spring break, too?”
“Break? Yeah, I guess you can say that,” she said. There was more nervous laughter. I was starting to get worried. I remembered Alice being the quiet kid, but also unbelievably headstrong and stubborn. “Say, you went to Brockton U, right? Are you still there?”
“I am. Why? Did you become a cape nerd in my absence? Want Laserdream’s autograph?” I teased. She tended to clam up if pressed so I had to coax her into talking if I wanted her to say anything.
“Fuck no. I just…” I heard something hollow and metallic bounce, probably a can of diet coke; she had a bit of an addiction to the stuff. “God, fuck, you’re never going to stop giving me shit for this.”
“That’s… Alice, do you need help?” I asked gently. As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I messed up.
“Fuck no! I don’t need help, Jon. I don’t need anyone’s help,” she insisted. That sounded more like her. She was the girl who’d sit in a burning building and tell the firefighter that she was just getting a tan.
“Alright, I get you. Say, what’s up, then?”
“I… I’m calling to let you know that I’m in town, that’s all.”
“In town? You went to…” I froze. A sinking pit formed in my stomach. “Cornell…”
“Yeah? Yeah, I did,” she said. She then word-vomited so swiftly that I almost didn’t catch it, “IdroppedoutofcollegebutIhaveajobnow.”
“Huh? Y-You dropped out?”
“I have a job!”
“In Brockton Bay,” I said skeptically. Dots were connecting. I didn’t like the picture being drawn. What were the odds?
“Y-Yeah, so? D-Do you want to catch up or not?” she demanded, voice high and fragile.
I could imagine her face already. Petite, pale cheeks flustered red. Eyes wide in that hyper-focused way she got when she was stressed. Brain running a mile a minute. Alice Matsuri didn’t get anxious. No, she got manic, and god help anyone in her way.
She was genuinely brilliant, smart enough to get a full ride to Cornell. She was also the most impulsive person I knew when she got like this. She didn’t have intrusive thoughts; she had intrusive actions. Usually, those actions got her in trouble and either her parents or I had to bail her out.
And she only got like this through persistent stress. Like during SAT season, when she didn’t sleep for two days. She almost stabbed a girl from the yearbook club with a pencil because she asked if she could take a picture of our study group at the library.
There was also that time in tenth grade, when she failed her driver’s ed and couldn’t get a permit. She tried to prove the DMV wrong by taking a joyride on her cousin’s scooter. If I remembered right, she crashed into her own mailbox while her parents were out. I got a new wooden post for the damn thing before her parents came home, though Mr. Matsuri noticed the difference and she was grounded anyway.
I wished this was as simple as exam stress. No, I had a good idea of what was causing my childhood friend to go into a self-destructive nosedive like this. Cornell, a trigger event. Lung, a “job offer” she couldn’t refuse. And knowing her parents, she definitely hadn’t told them yet. They wanted the best for her, but “strained” didn’t even begin to describe their relationship.
My childhood friend was Bakuda. Pre-memory me sure knew how to pick ‘em. Or maybe this was one of those destiny things that Atem talked about. Maybe the shiny, gold bling currently stored in my soul should have been a hint, but I now knew for certain: I was an anime protagonist.
“Of course I’d love to catch up with you,” I said soothingly, knowing damn well that I was standing on a landmine. I couldn’t run either, she already knew I was in the city, so there was only one thing to do. “How about we meet up on Sunday? We’ll have lunch and chill like old times.”
“We can do that,” she said, marginally calmer now. The Alice-bomb wasn’t defused quite yet, but this was the first step. “Can… Can you make me snacks again?”
I thought back to what she was talking about. She was half-white, half-Japanese. Her dad didn’t care enough to introduce her to Japanese culture much, probably because it earned no merits on college apps, so that role had fallen to me.
“Dango?” I asked. It had been one of my “phases.” Before I moved on to recreating survival food, I’d been on a Japanese street food kick for a while. “You liked those the most, right?”
“With the sweet bean stuff. Not the red one. The red stuff is gross.”
“Red beans are the sweet beans. Wait, do you mean kinako?”
“I don't know what it's called.”
“Toasted soybean flour blended with sugar.”
“Yeah, that. Make me some?”
“Alright, Alice. I’ll see you then,” I said.
I cut the call and stared up at the sky. I couldn’t see the stars, too much light pollution, but I knew them to be cruel, uncaring beings.
I stuffed the now-cold slice in my mouth and hurried along. I needed a plan by Sunday, one that’d keep my childhood friend from having the mother of all manic episodes.
X
My next tutoring session with Aisha went well. She stubbornly refused to do her homework until I bribed her with a test batch of dango. I was teaching her that she could goad me into giving her shit, but as long as she did her work, that was progress as far as I was concerned.
I then spent the rest of Saturday working on my cape life. I listened to Atem's lectures about magic, shadow games, and the structure of the soul. Much of it was information the manga and anime failed to cover, the kind of lore buried in snippets and hinted at in card art that few paid attention to.
Except, this wasn't just lore trivia anymore. Atem described an entire system, even covering secrets that were ancient even in his time. Orichalcos was real apparently, as was Atlantis.
This was mostly academic to me at the moment, but wouldn't always be so. Soon, I'd have my own partnered ka and my magical training would begin in earnest.
I also made plans for Coil, and now, the ABB. I prayed to whichever god would hear for Alice's safety and sanity. Those two crashing down on my shoulders felt overwhelming, but I didn't want to abandon my childhood friend either, especially not since I knew where that road led.
I'd take cues from my predecessor here. Joey was a bully who turned out to be more loyal than any other. Even Kaiba could set his rivalry aside when it mattered. As Atem was keen to advise, even a bad friend was a friend.
Author’s Note
Kudos to the one who recognized Alice. Your fanon knowledge is impeccable. Bakuda has no civvie name afaik, but she's often called Alice and she is from Boston.
As for why I'm going the childhood friend arc, why not? I've written so much Worm that I felt like doing something new. Trust me, I (sorta) have a plan.
Animal Fact: Tigers have striped skin. No, not fur, skin. And like your fingerprints, they're completely unique to each tiger. Yes, people have shaved tigers.
On an unrelated note, zebras do not have striped skin. They’re actually black, with white underbellies. We know this because scientists examined zebras during embryonic development and saw white stripes emerge in a black background. White stripes are formed through a lack of melanin in select hair follicles.