匕匕句

Kaiba looked over the edge. It wasn’t the height that bothered him. It was the logistics. “We’ll have to take the long route back up town. That’s, what, two kilometres uphill?”

“Yeah, but think how worth it it’ll be.” Jonouchi was already standing, pulling off his shirt in a single, fluid motion. A group of local teens, loitering nearby with fizzy drinks, turned at the sudden movement. “Hey—watch our stuff for us?” Jonouchi asked, waving them over and offering a few crisp euros.

One of the kids blinked. “Are you—? Duelist guy, right?”

Kaiba arched a brow. “Both of us are duelists,” he said in Italian, reaching for his wallet. “Watch the bags, and no funny business.”

The kids lit up. “Selfie?”

Jonouchi threw an arm around Kaiba’s shoulder before he could decline. “Sure! C’mon.”

The picture was snapped: Kaiba squinting slightly, Jonouchi throwing a peace sign, the sun mid-melt behind them. The kids scattered back to the bench, one of them yanking Jonouchi’s shirt over his head, striking an exaggerated pose while his friends howled.

Kaiba shook his head. “Nice to see you bribing the locals to rob us.”

“They won’t. Look how happy they are.”

Jonouchi didn’t wait for a reply. He sprinted back from the ledge, full throttle, then launched. For a split second, he hung against the sky, legs tucked, hair alight—then disappeared in a clean arc of splash and froth.

Kaiba lingered. Rolled his eyes. Then stood, toes just over the edge. He stepped into the air with the fluid grace of someone who never learned how to falter. A perfect swan dive. The wind howled past his ears, and then—

The water caught him.

There was a silence in it. Warm and rippling. He sank into the golden hush of it, as if the sun had followed him beneath the waves. All around him was molten light, diffused and blurring. He opened his eyes.

Jonouchi was there, a column of bubbles rising around him, his hair fanned wild. He swam toward Kaiba, reached for him with both hands, and cradled his face.

For a moment, Kaiba forgot where he was.

It resolved slowly. The gold around them was just the sunset’s echo. The flicker in the water was just the end of day. But Jonouchi’s face—smiling, open, shining like no other thing in the world—remained.

The swim to shore was slower. The surf was warm and slow, the golden trail of the sun now slipping from the sky, its reflections shattered across the sea like scattered sequins. Kaiba reached the stony outcrop first and offered a hand as Jonouchi clambered beside him, breathless, their chests rising and falling in tandem.

They collapsed back on the warm, sun-baked stone, the uneven rock pressing hot through their spines. Salt clung to their skin in crystalline streaks, their hair flattened wet and wild. Kaiba tilted his head, eyes half-lidded, watching droplets cling to Jonouchi’s lashes. Something about the way he smiled—careless, delighted—unwound him.

He leaned over and kissed him.

Jonouchi responded with a pleased hum, tilting up into it without hesitation. Kaiba deepened the kiss with the sort of purpose he rarely revealed, one hand bracing against the rock while the other cupped Jonouchi’s jaw, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. Jonouchi tasted of gelato, of spit, of sea salt. He bit Jonouchi’s lower lip and heard the boy let out a muffled curse.

Kaiba grinned against his mouth.

Jonouchi pulled back eventually, eyesbrows raised in a look of amusement. “You were the one all paranoid about the kids running off with our shit, remember?”

Kaiba didn’t move. “You were the one who handed them your wallet.”

“They seemed harmless!”

“One of them was doing an impression of your walk.”

Jonouchi snorted. “He nailed it though.”

Kaiba rolled his eyes and finally shifted off him, settling beside him again, arms behind his head. But Jonouchi was already rising to his feet, water glinting down his chest.

“C’mon,” he said teasingly. “We should start the hike back up. You’re the one who said we’d get mobbed if anyone recognized us too long.”

Kaiba gave him a skeptical side glance. “You think you’re suddenly the voice of caution?”

But Jonouchi’s eyes had gone half-lidded, glinting. “If you’re trying to finish what you started here, don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you when we get back to the hotel later.” Kaiba arched a brow. He was most certainly interested. Jonouchi grinned wider. “But!” he said, already backing up a step, “you gotta beat me back up the path.” And then he bolted.

🌅

Jonouchi was still curled into Kaiba’s chest, both of them sprawled on the tousled sheets, half-naked and lazy with afterglow. Kaiba’s fingers brushed idle arcs along Jonouchi’s spine, his other hand propped behind his head, gaze tilted toward the ceiling.

Jonouchi’s phone buzzed somewhere by the nightstand. He reached over without lifting his head and snagged it with a tired swipe. His brows furrowed.

“Oh, hey—look,” he said, unlocking the screen. “The kids from the cliff tagged me.”

He turned the phone to show Kaiba: a slightly blurry selfie of the two of them grinning with their arms slung over a small flock of sunburnt Italian preteens, one of whom was very proudly wearing Jonouchi’s t-shirt.

Beneath the image, the caption read: "Incontrare @JoKat, il duellante del Red Eyes Black Dragon, e il suo amico!! Troppo forte!!"

Jonouchi squinted. “What’s it say?”

Kaiba, deadpan: “Met @JoKat, the Red Eyes Black Dragon duelist, and his friend. So cool.”

There was a beat of silence before Jonouchi burst into laughter, full-bodied and wheezing.

“Your friend?!” he cackled, thumping a hand against Kaiba’s chest. “Oh my god—your friend—”

Kaiba narrowed his eyes. “Yes, history will say we were very good friends.”

“I mean, I’m down to clear it up but I don’t think I gotta fill in a bunch of internet randos about our batshit sex life.” He scrolled through a few more photos, then paused, phone dimming in his hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

Kaiba hummed a yes.

Jonouchi turned on his side, resting his chin just above Kaiba’s heart. “Don’t you ever miss duelling? Like, actually competing? Why don’t you do it more?”

Kaiba’s gaze moved toward the open balcony. Outside, the coastal wind pressed gently against the glass. His voice came low.

“KaibaCorp’s busy,” he said. “I’m restructuring our board and changing our stock framework. I want the company private again. Mokuba and I shouldn’t be beholden to shareholder tantrums every time someone smells blood in the water. That kind of shift takes time. A lot of it.” He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling again. “And my full attention. Something had to give.”

Jonouchi was quiet a long while. Then: “Would you have more time to duel if you weren’t seeing me so much?”

Kaiba turned to look at him sharply.

Jonouchi blinked, guileless, his brow furrowed like he genuinely didn’t think it was an odd thing to ask.

Something hurt a little in Kaiba’s chest. Not because the question offended him, but because he knew what kind of man asked a thing like that.

He exhaled slowly. “Spending time with you has nothing to do with it.”

Jonouchi nodded thoughtfully, eyes flicking away. But Kaiba caught his chin between two fingers and brought his face back.

“You really want me back on the circuit so badly you’d break up with me over it?”