Stumbling into Victory 3

Stumbling into Victory 3

Jonathan Yukawa
Brockton Bay, NH, USA

A week passed. I was starting to get used to my new schedule. Which, to be clear, did not mean I enjoyed it. My ideal life was a quiet one, with plenty of free time. To me, “free” wasn’t the same as “lazy.”

I wanted the freedom to explore the things that captured my interest. I wanted to cook a Victorian era minced meat pie or try out cerulean pottery from Korea. My history major gave me the chance to explore some of those interests, for as long as they interested me.

Unfortunately, such idyllic days were behind me. I had class five days a week, though not quite as many as in high school. I also worked part-time as an assistant librarian for four days a week. The shifts weren’t long, and I usually got to do homework when it wasn’t busy, but it was still work. My hobbies didn’t pay for themselves.

Now, I added three days of gym to my schedule. And when I wasn’t doing that, I was busy with schoolwork or putting some of Samuel’s workout tips to practice. Of course, I had to throw in magic practice under Atem, the shit that’d hopefully keep me alive long-term. I didn’t have much ba right now, but those sessions would naturally lengthen as my soul expanded and I gained energy to burn.

All told, my days were annoyingly full. I could name several peers who were even busier than me, Rory Christner, Crystal Pelham, and Anne Barnes among them, but they were the type-A, objective-oriented sorts who chose this kind of schedule for themselves. 

‘You’re doing well,’ Atem encouraged as I pounded pavement towards the dorm. It was a nice cooldown exercise after getting my shit kicked in by Samuel.‘You’re more adaptable than you think you are.’

‘Thanks, I feel like shit,’ I grumbled.

To be fair, he was right. My persistent bitching aside, the gym had swiftly become a place of familiarity. By now, I’d met several of the regulars: There was Samuel, the huge, Samoan man in his late twenties who’d become something of a coach to me; Yusef, a Lebanese fellow with a hell of a reach; Lelani, a nineteen year old Hawaiian lady who for some god-forsaken reason came to this city; and Keith, a sixteen year old kid who attended Winslow and had the world’s most obvious crush on Lelani.

Then there was Brian Laborn, the big boss’ son. Meeting him had been the plan, but I’d only run into him once on Saturday morning. We said hello and he showed me a few, basic combinations before doing his own thing. He had that pinched look on his face, the kind quiet sorts got when they felt like they were drowning but were too “manly” to ask for help, not that I expected him to open up to a stranger like me.

I knew he got money from Coil, but he also had to launder that money somehow to show the caseworker that he had a legitimate income stream and could provide for his kid sister. I doubted Coil would ever solve Brian’s problems, though he likely could quite easily. Why lose such an easy means of leverage?

Then there were the more opaque requirements. Caseworkers ensured that children had a “suitable learning environment,” but what the hell did that mean in Aisha’s context? It wasn’t as if either parent or Brian could treat her mental issues. It was largely a vibe check, one that Brian automatically failed because he was just seventeen.

So yeah, I could admit; he had good reasons to be stressed. He was a lot busier at seventeen than I’d ever been in either of my lives.

‘There isn’t some magical way to give Brian custody of Aisha, is there?’ I asked Atem as we headed home for the day. I’d long since told him about many of the people I knew.

‘Not easily, no,’ Atem replied. ‘You would need to permanently alter people’s memories or mindset into being more accepting of Brian’s claim over his sister’s custody.’

‘The Millennium Rod would be useful right about now.’

‘I would caution against the use of hypnosis or other forms of mind manipulation. You know what they say about the road to hell.’

‘Yeah, I know, good intentions and whatnot. I was mostly joking.’

‘Good. now, are you ready for your second pack?’

I nodded brief greetings to a few of my dormmates and headed inside. They were watching a baseball game in the communal living room.

I tossed myself onto the bed. The last time I pulled a pack, I promptly knocked myself on my ass. I figured this way, I could use the pack pull to get a head start on resetting my sleep schedule back to something functional.

‘Lay it on me, pharoah.’

‘As you wish.’

The Legend of Blue Eyes White Dragon card pack flashed in my vision. Now that I was looking for it, I could almost see the pack tear open as if it was really in front of me.

I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. Eyes heavy, I stared blearily up at the cards: seven monsters, three spells.

Silver Fang, Dissolverock, Tyhone, Hard Armor, Witty Phantom, Frenzied Panda

Hinotama, Fissure, Machine Conversion Factory

That was quite good. The Machine Conversion Factory was worthless to me, seeing how I had no machines to begin with, but the other two spells seemed useful.

I immediately set Hinotama and Fissure alongside Trap Hole and Umi. Over the past week, I tested my power a bit more. I learned that I could remove a card from my board altogether, not just send it back into my soul “face down.”

Atem likened it to sending a card to the Graveyard, effectively freeing up space in my soul. That was good, because even a “face down” monster was a connection I had to maintain, if on standby. When I intentionally severed a connection like this, I learned that I could reforge this connection the next day, roughly around sunrise. 

Spells and traps were much the same. Once used, they could be “redrawn” and “set” a day later. Trap Hole allowed me to point and create a pit in the ground, roughly twice my height in depth. It could be used to trap someone, or in tandem with Umi to drown them if I was feeling particularly asinine.

I’d have to figure out what exactly my two new spells could do outside of a card game. Still, a rain of fireballs or giant crack in the ground were bound to be useful, even if I could only use them once.

‘Silver Fang, now there is an old friend,’ Atem said, chuckling nostalgically. ‘The old wolf has been a constant companion of both mine and Yugi’s. I am eager to see him again.’

‘Will he remember you?’ I asked curiously. I remembered seeing the card used by Yugi in the Duelist Kingdom arc, and a few times beyond that, even. ‘For that matter, if I ever draw Dark Magician, should I call him Mahad?’

‘No, Silver Fang will not remember me. It is but a template of a spirit. There are many wolves like him. But Dark Magician… Mahad gave his life for me, combining his ka and ba together. He might be a special case.’

‘Got it, so some cards will have more powerful personalities than others.’

‘Indeed. I admit to feeling nostalgic. Silver Fang had been a reliable friend for many years.’

‘I’ll summon him. You can… I don’t know, play fetch with him in my soul or something.’

‘As you please, Jonathan.’

With the last of my ba, I called the great wolf to the material plane. He was fucking massive, more like a dire wolf than anything a person could find in the wild today. In the cramped space of my room, he appeared even bigger.

The white wolf studied his surroundings with a quiet intensity. His golden eyes met my own. Then, as if to dispel all stereotypes about wolves being fierce predators, his face split into a wolfy grin, tongue lolling out happily. I’d never seen a creature switch so fast from majestic to adorable, but he pulled it off.

“Hey, bud,” I said softly. That really had been the rest of my ba. I doubted I could win a fight against my eight year old niece right now. “Mind keeping the geezer squatting in my soul entertained?”

‘I resent that statement,’ Atem huffed. ‘I look younger than you, I’ll have you know.’

‘Maybe, but you’re still older than dirt.’

‘And I am not “squatting” in your soul. I dwell in the puzzle. Your soul is more akin to an apartment next door.’

‘Fine, fine, I shall apologize via puppy. Have fun, Atem. I’m going to conk out because summoning a spirit right after pulling a pack was exhausting.’

‘Very well, Jonathan. Good night.’

X

Atem was right, as usual. Silver Fang quickly became my favorite duel spirit. It wasn’t a powerful card even by the standards of early Yu-Gi-Oh, but there was something glorious about a doggo that was big enough to ride. I tried that with Turtle Tiger the other night, but the shell made it pretty uncomfortable.

I finished sorting the books and tried to focus on my essay. Working at the library was great for getting classwork done, especially since people my age tended to not want to ask a classmate for help. I had enough distractions without my peers.

Just when I was starting to hit my stride, my phone vibrated, breaking my concentration. It was from Sabah, or rather, Parian. I’d reached out to her on PHO to request a costume.

Unfortunately, the text basically told me to fuck off. She was a lot politer about it, but that was the gist. She explained that even if I planned to be a hero, her neutrality was contingent on her refusing to take sides. It wasn’t just about not getting into fights or claiming territory; she just outright refused cape interactions of all kinds.

I let out a sigh of exasperation. Part of me wanted to track down Sabah to introduce myself. Recruiting her would be a nice start to my hero career. She had a useful power and cared enough about civilians to protect them even through the Slaughterhouse arc. She was far from perfect, but I considered her one of Earth-Bet’s few decent parahumans. And truthfully, as of right now, she was probably stronger than me.

Problem was, she was also something of a recluse. We weren’t in the same department so it’d look rather odd if I sought her out for no reason. Worse still, one of the pressures that caused her trigger was a pushy boy. The last thing I wanted to push that button.

It sucked that I wouldn’t have Sabah’s help, but that didn’t mean I could put off the banalities of building a cape identity. At the bare minimum, I needed a name, costume, and base of operations. That abandoned shipping garage didn’t count.

Figuring that I wouldn’t be getting any work done on my essay, I began pondering name ideas.

‘Would it offend you if I called myself Pharaoh?’ I asked Atem. He was, after all, the pharaoh, the OG King of Games before Yugi managed to win their duel.

‘It would be a little strange, yes,’ he admitted. ‘I would not take offense, but Yugi and his friends called me that for so long. The word is as much my name as Atem.’

‘That’s true; you didn’t remember your real name for a long time.’

‘If you must have a name to hide behind, why not simply King or Monarch? They mean the same thing.’

‘Hmm, I don’t know. They don’t sound right. How about Heika?’

‘It is the address for emperors in Japan, correct?’

‘Yeah, it basically translates to “your majesty.” On second thought, maybe not. Naming myself Heika just so everyone will call me “your majesty” sounds arrogant as hell.’

‘It does, yes,’ he said wryly.

‘How does Seimei sound? It is the name of a famous court magician in Japanese history. He was a real person, but people kept adding stories about him until he became something like a Japanese Merlin.’

‘Then I would advise against it. I cannot recall a spirit that takes this name specifically, but names have power, especially when spoken by one who is mystically inclined.’

‘Got it, so no calling myself Horus, even if the puzzle has the Eye of Horus on it.’

‘Doing so would be unwise. What is wrong with your name?’

‘I told you, I need a mask so dickheads don’t go after my family. It helps that my parents are in Boston, but still, that’s just forty minutes on the freeway.’

‘No, I mean your Japanese name. You go by Jonathan so most people don’t even know it exists.’

‘Katsuya? It means “to overcome.” It’s actually a pretty good name for a cape.’ I considered it, then shook my head. ‘No, that’s still a risk. My full name is a matter of public record.’

‘Then we will have to think about it some more. In the meantime, if you must have a costume, can you not simply make your own?’

‘I plan to. I used to visit ren fairs pretty frequently, in both lives. Sewing is one of those random skills I picked up. I just would have appreciated having Sabah’s help. It’d save time if nothing else.’

‘We must play the hand we are dealt, my friend.’

‘You’re right.’

I spent the rest of my shift brainstorming a costume. As hilarious as it would have been to dress up as Kaibaman, no one else would get the reference. I checked, there was no Yu-Gi-Oh, not even via an Aleph import.

X

“One-two, weave, Yukawa!” Samuel shouted from ringside. My head rocked back, disrupting my admittedly amateurish combination.

Today was one of the few times I saw the Undersider. Brian had been holding the focus mitts for me. He occasionally took swings at me to keep me alert. They were half-hearted on his part but still hurt a fair bit. 

I shook my head and raised my gloves again. After a second to gather myself, I dove right back in, this time with my head lower. That lasted another fifteen seconds before the mitt found my face again, planting me on my ass. He was an intense kid, and didn’t quite know his own strength.

“Time! Get off the ring, Yukawa,” Samuel shouted as he slid a water bottle across the ring to me. “Cooldowns, then hit the showers.”

“You good, man?” Brian asked, hand outstretched.

I took it and let him pull me up. We left the ring so someone else could use it. “Yeah, I’m alright. Still getting used to this. You hit pretty hard, dude.”

“Sorry about that. I’m used to going a bit faster.”

“All good. I’ll just have to get faster to match you, I guess.”

He shook his head. “That ain’t it, man. You punch plenty fast. Your footwork’s pretty okay, too.”

I grabbed a jump rope from a nail on the wall. Cooldown exercises were important. “Then what’s the problem? It feels like you’re moving a lot faster than I am.”

“That’s because you fixate. Like–” he cut himself off, trying to form words to explain what had been drilled in his head since he was a child. He took a step back and mimed a jab. “See my fist?”

“I see it.”

“Well, that’s all you see. It’s like the rest of me disappears. When you’re punching the mitts, you’re going through combinations in your head, right?”

“Right. Jab. Cross. Hook. Your dad said I should stick to the basics.”

“Good, that’s what you’re supposed to do. But you do it without thinking about what I’m doing. You’re so committed to doing that combo that you don’t even notice when I’m setting up to interrupt you.”

I frowned. Thinking back, I could see what he meant. “Okay, I hear you. How do I fix that?”

“Get hit more,” he shrugged apologetically. “Look, it sounds bad, but that’s just how it goes sometimes. It’s easy to say you should add more dodges into your combos, but it’s not that easy to do, you know?”

“Experience is the only thing that’s going to teach me, huh?”

“Exactly. Keep it in mind, but you want to do it without thinking. Shadow boxing helps.”

“Got it. Thanks, Brian. You’re a pretty good teacher.”

“Tell Alec that,” he snorted.

“Who?”

“A friend of mine. I’ve been trying to get him into boxing but dude’s allergic to exercise.”

“Sounds rough.”

“Yeah… Hey, Jon?”

“Yo.”

“You’re smart, right?”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“But you’re in college.”

“As a history major. I’m not about to cure cancer or whatever.”

“What are you going to do with a history degree?” he asked, puzzled. He was wrapping his hands so he could go a few rounds with Samuel.

“Work at Fugly Bob’s and tell people french fries aren't historically from France,” I replied glibly. “For real, though? I’m not sure. Dad wants me to go to law school, but I’m not really down for that.”

“What’s wrong with law school? Lawyers get cushy offices and they make bank, right?”

“I’m not good at focusing on things that don’t catch my interest. I pick up random skills, try different hobbies, then move on when I learn how to do it.”

“Isn’t that true for everyone?”

“Like, I know how to crochet, flintnap obsidian arrowheads, tie sailor’s knots, all sorts of random crap I thought was cool to learn. Most of it’s worthless knowledge, but I enjoyed learning them.”

“So you have ADHD? That thing where you can’t focus on anything for a long time or you get antsy and shit.”

“Heh, probably. Not so much that I can’t force myself through it, but I really don’t want to. It’s actually how a lot of my hobbies started. My grandma had me fold origami when I was a kid to help me focus.”

“Damn, wish I did that with Aisha.” At my mock-confusion, he clarified, “Kid sister. She’s thirteen, huge pain in my ass.”

I nodded sagely and stroked an imaginary beard. “Ah, so a normal kid sister.”

“Yup. She can’t sit still to save her life.”

“Sounds like a handful. Good luck with that, Brian.”

X

The rest of the week passed and spring break began. Most of my free time was eaten away making a costume for myself. In the end, I pulled a few things I had lying around from my hobbies.

There was a time when I visited ren fairs fairly frequently, sometimes traveling down as far as Maryland. Then there was my “caveman phase,” as mom called it. Both the flintnapped arrowhead and pemmican ball were remnants of this time. I was glad that this version of me shared so many of my “phases.”

I settled on a long-sleeved doublet decorated with brass filigree. It was a deep, oceanic blue, so dark that it was almost black. Below, I chose tear-resistant, gray canvas pants and a pair of leather work boots. Both the doublet and pants were baggy enough that I could wear additional layers for warmth, or hopefully, armor.

The outfit was brought together by a thick, gray overcoat. It added an extra layer of protection and had a big hood to help hide my identity. That, and pockets. I summoned things from my soul, but that didn’t mean a few essentials wouldn’t go amiss.

Throw in a classic domino mask and the Millennium Puzzle and my outfit was complete. All told, I thought it looked alright for a first attempt. I had a lot more in my closet than I’d first expected. 

‘What do you think?’ I asked Atem.

‘Looks functional. The filigree matches the puzzle so that’s nice,’ the pharaoh noted. ‘I’m afraid my knowledge of fashion is rather limited.’

‘Fair enough. I don’t look like a villain, right? That’s really all I care about.’

‘What does a villain look like? Pegasus wore tailored, red suits. Kaiba wore lots of white. Marik was the only one who wore hooded cloaks like you.’

‘Huh… True that. I guess we’re fine with this, then.’

‘Do you plan to make your debut this week? It is spring break, correct?’

‘That’s right. I figure it’s as good a time as any,’ I told him. I set my costume aside, folding it all into the corner of my closet.

‘So be it. Would you like me to open a pack now?’

‘Yes, go ahead.’

I settled into bed and sighed as the expected wave of exhaustion hit. This was my third pull, the start of my third week as a sorcerer. It could have just been my imagination, but I felt that I was getting used to it.

Dark King of the Abyss, Trial of Nightmare, Tripwire Beast, Kumotoko, Fireyarou, Man-Eater Bug

Stop Defense, Remove Trap, Mystical Moon

I allowed myself a satisfied smile. These were pretty good cards, with a lot more flexibility than I’d seen from the card game. I’d have to make some additions to my “board” in the morning.

After that, I had to think about my first outing as a cape. Which neighborhood did I want to patrol? Did I want to reach out to the heroes at all? Or maybe, I’d be better off targeting a known gang for credibility, maybe even make some money off loot.

Myriad plans whirled in my mind as I allowed sleep to claim me.

Author’s Note

Sabah’s in too many of my fics. I like her a lot, but not this time. Besides, the trope that people can just hit up Parian for a costume is pure fanon. She’s actually almost completely isolationist towards all factions pre-Leviathan.

Not gonna lie, had I not written The River King, I would have gone with “Monarch” or some other royal-esque name. I do try to avoid similar names among my protagonists though, especially since I have so many Worm fics. Seriously, Bryce? Blake? I have no idea what the fuck I was thinking. I sometimes get those two confused.

I’ve never boxed. My knowledge of boxing is very limited. Also, obligatory plot hook for Brian and Aisha.

If you have any ideas for a first outing, or card uses, let me know. Suggestions are always welcome so long as you keep in mind that I reserve the right to ignore everything you say. 

It’s been two weeks since he became a cape and he’s had three pulls. I’ll eventually have so many cards that it’ll be impractical to list them all. Then, I’ll probably organize them into “decks” for easy reference.

For now though, here they are:

>Board<

• Link Monsters 1-2: Empty

• Field Spell: Umi (Set)

• Monsters 1-5: Firegrass, The Furious Sea King, Kagemusha of the Blue Flame, Silver Fang

• Graveyard: Empty

• Spells/Traps 1-5: Trap Hole, Hinotama, Fissure

• Extra Deck: Not yet created

• Deck: Not yet created

>Full Card List (27)<

Monsters: 

• Dissolverock x2

• The Furious Sea King

• Turtle Tiger

• Kagemusha of the Blue Flame

• Firegrass

• Silver Fang

• Tyhone

• Hard Armor

• Witty Phantom

• Frenzied Panda

• Dark King of the Abyss

• Trial of Nightmare

• Tripwire Beast

• Kumotoko

• Fireyarou

• Man-Eater Bug

• Flower Wolf (Fusion)

Spells:

• Umi

• Mountain

• Hinotama

• Fissure

• Stop Defense

• Remove Trap

• Mystical Moon

• Machine Conversion Factory

Traps:

• Trap Hole

Animal Fact: The optical nerve of a chameleon is roughly three times longer than the shortest path from its eye to its brain. This is what allows it to rotate its pupils one hundred eighty degrees.

If we tried to do that, we’d tear the nerve. This is because the optical nerve is attached at a fixed point in the back of our eyeballs. Rotating the eyeball so the pupil is fixated on something without moving the neck naturally moves this fixed point away from the brain, straining the connection.

Most animals have optical nerves that are about twenty percent longer than the shortest distance between the eyeball and the brain. This bit of extra length gives us slack and allows us to move our eyeballs around a bit.