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What Followed the High Priest Home (Chapter 1)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Characters/Ships: Puzzleshipping/Blindshipping (Atem/Yugi); Gemshipping (Thief King Bakura/Ryou Bakura); Puppyshipping/Revertshipping (Priest Seto Kaiba/Jounochi); Atem, Yugi, Thief King Bakura, Ryou Bakura, Priest Seto Kaiba, Jounochi Katsuya Rating: M (WARNINGS for steamy fade-to-black moments, banter of a sexual nature, and some abuse of lotus wine) Length: Chapter 1 / 7; 4600 words

Summary:

Upon his homecoming, Priest Seto Kaiba certainly didn't expect to find a statue of the Thief King in the middle of the palace courtyard, right where the Pharaoh's statue ought to be. He also didn't expect the stray puppy he picked up on his travels to follow him all the way home.

In the meantime, the Great Royal Husband, Yugi Mutou, makes a new friend, one Jounochi Katsuya, and Pharaoh Atem wonders when the power dynamics around his palace got so difficult to navigate.

Sequel to "For Love of Pharaoh and King;" "The Pharaoh's Lotus Garden—Part I" accounts for the time between the two works. Can be read separately, but will make more sense with context.

Full Story Begins Here! Read on AO3 Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

note: Welcome, all! I’d like to take the opportunity to note, with his proper introduction in the series, that the Priest Seto Kaiba who appears in this fic draws inspiration from both the canon Priest Seto and the modern day Seto Kaiba of canon. If pressed, I would say he’s an AU version of the latter rather than a literal representation of the former. Thank you so much for your readership; it means the world to me! <3

Chapter One: New Arrivals

High Priest Seto Kaiba, weary from his travels, was looking forward to two simple pleasures: first, reporting his successes to his cousin, the Pharaoh Atem, and second, lying down and having a long, deep, undisturbed sleep in his own bed. He stepped out of his chariot at the palace entryway; Atem didn't like horses traipsing through the courtyard gardens that he took such pride in, and his cousin was duly considerate of such things. Accompanied by the small cluster of lesser priests, Priest Seto ran a hand briefly through his hair to make sure it was presentable, then strode into the courtyard.

He stopped when he found himself face to face with a statue of not the Pharaoh, where the Pharaoh's statue most certainly should have been, and had been the last time he had been at the palace, but a grinning stone effigy of the notorious bandit known only as the Thief King.

Priest Seto stumbled back, one hand flying to his chest; breathed, "Great gods, what's happened in my absence...?!" With a swish of robes and a shout to his underlings, he tore off toward the palace. Servants and castle-folk, going about an otherwise mundane day, called out greetings and questions, but Priest Seto blew past them and made for the throne room.

"Pharaoh!"

Atem looked up, mildly surprised, when a very flustered High Priest burst into his presence. Seto's hair was in as much disarray as the Pharaoh had ever seen it. "Ah. Priest Seto. You've returned. Welcome. Is everything alright?"

Seto, struggling to catch his breath, hurried to his Pharaoh's side and knelt. "What's happened while I've been gone, Pharaoh? I feared the worst when I entered the courtyard, and—I mean, the statue is—"

"Oh. That." Atem hid his face in one hand. "Yes. That. Sorry for any alarm, that was just—"

"Pharaoh Horus lost a bet," came a menacing purr, from behind the kneeling priest. Seto bounded to his feet; spun, and found himself standing before not just a statue, but the flesh-and-blood King of Thieves.

"I'll fill you in, Seto..." the Pharaoh said wearily, then addressed the other. "Put your fangs away, cur. No one's frightened."

The Thief King's grin only widened, contorting the gruesome scar that marred his face. "This little priest seems rather spooked," he said, beginning to circle Seto slowly. The High Priest stiffened; stared down at the thief, wondering how someone several inches sorter than he could act so believably intimidating. Then again, Pharaoh Atem was much the same, in that regard.

Seto took more detailed stock of the man before him—clearly the notorious Thief King, identifiable by that large scar down the right side of his face. Last Seto had heard, he'd been chased out—crushed, by Atem's policies, and reduced from King of Thieves to nameless outlaw. Four years after Atem had taken over, the Thief King should have been dead, or at least in a fairly desperate state. The man standing before Seto, though, looked to be in peak physical condition; his silver hair was lush, and lean, powerful muscle rippled beneath gleaming bronze skin. His dress wasn't ostentatious, but at least respectable: a red silk robe, with a few slim golden bands strung about a maize-colored headdress. Around his neck he wore a polished ring that bumped against his bare chest.

"Priest Seto, Bakura, Bakura, Priest Seto," Atem said briskly, motioning.

"Thief King Bakura, to you," the Thief King crooned, bowing low at the waist.

Seto stiffened further; turned to Atem, and was somewhat soothed by the sight of the Pharaoh still seated firmly on his throne. "And I'm the Pharaoh's High Priest," he replied, with all the dignity he could scrounge up in the wake of his shock. "As I'm sure you know, that means I'm second in command, here in the palace—second only to Lord Pharaoh."

"Really? I've never heard Horus mention you," Bakura said, his grin twisting a bit more. "And last time I checked, Lord Yugi is second to Lord Pharaoh, here."

Seto stiffened. "Yugi?"

"The Great Royal Husband. Or are you that oblivious to what's going on in your own palace?"

Seto felt the blood rise to his face. He had heard about the royal wedding, of course, but had either never been told or neglected to remember the new Royal Husband's name. "I've been far away, in other lands, on important—"

"Excuses, excuses," Bakura sneered. "And you say you're so high-up, here at the palace."

Seto glanced at Atem—seemingly impassive as he watching the scene. "I have been away," he said slowly, "but now that I've returned—"

"Now that you've returned... what?" Bakura sneered. "Dynamics here at the palace have changed quite a bit."

"Not that much," Seto replied stiffly. "And you are..." He took a deep breath; realized he had no idea what the arrangement might be, between his Pharaoh and the Thief King, and decided he shouldn't speak on what he didn't understand—he'd already made one significant blunder, by not recognizing the Great Royal Husband by name. Instead he focused on what he did know, for certain. "I am High Priest Seto Kaiba. And I will not be talked down to by the likes of you."

Atem's lips quirked upwards, even as Bakura laughed boisterously. "This one has some spunk, Horus!" he said, glancing at Atem. "You always keep interesting company, that's for sure!"

Seto, with the distinct impression of being mocked, took a step forward. "Listen carefully, thief!" he began, but Bakura's laughter all but drowned him out.

"Thief! That's original," he chuckled, as Seto's anger mounted. Again the priest glanced at his Pharaoh, wondering why Atem refused to intercede or further explain the situation. "And so terribly insulting, oh! No one's ever wounded me so, before! My tender heart bleeds!"

"By the gods, I will cut you deep, cur!" Seto declared, taking an aggressive step forward. Bakura didn't seem impressed.

"I say we have ourselves a duel, Priest. What do you think, Horus?"

Atem's eyes flashed, and he glanced briefly at Priest Seto. "I think that would settle things, don't you, Kaiba?"

Seto stiffened. The Pharaoh only addressed him thusly in the most serious contexts, and he wondered if the Pharaoh was being held hostage—if he was trying to communicate some message of distress. The only one who has ever beaten me in an official duel... is Pharaoh Atem himself... so... is he asking me to beat this filthy thief...? He must expect I'll be able to win. Of course I'll be able to win.

"I accept your challenge!" Seto declared, though feeling the travel-weariness deep in his bones. But when Atem raised the concern, asking if he would prefer to rest first, he shook his head. "I won't delay, even for a matter of hours! This is a duel for pride—I will fight, now, and I will win!"

"Are you sure?" the Thief King asked, with a crooning note of derision in his voice. "Feeling up to it, really? I don't want you blaming fatigue for your defeat, now."

"Never!" Seto thrust one hand out, robes rustling dramatically out behind him. He turned to Atem. "We will go to the duel ring immediately. Will you accompany us, Pharaoh, as witness?"

"Of course." Atem nodded seriously; rose, and gave brief instructions to a servant before stepping down from the raised platform where his throne sat.

"What shall we wager?" Bakura asked, as the three began to walk. Seto turned pointedly away.

"This is a battle between men, for pride. We needn't sully it with material wagers."

"Doesn't have to be material," the Thief King replied. "My usual rule is that the winner gets to take a card from the loser's deck, but you don't seem the type to go for that."

"I certainly am not," the High Priest replied tersely. "Cards shouldn't change hands so casually, much less cards of such high caliber as I use."

The Thief King chuckled. "We should still bet something, I think. Wagers just make things more interesting."

"Is your pride not valuable enough to you to keep the contest 'interesting?'" Seto asked.

"My pride... ah, a very important thing, to be sure, but it's not as if you can take that from me, even if you win this duel."

Seto glanced at him; Bakura seemed untroubled. "How can you say that? To lose is to—"

"The Pharaoh and I are one for one, by the way," the Thief King said nonchalantly, and both Atem and Seto went a bit pale. "That's how I got that statue put up, out in the courtyard. What's your record against our beloved god-incarnate, hmm?"

Seto looked at Atem, who was pointedly avoiding his gaze. "The Pharaoh... has never granted me a rematch."

Bakura's face lit up. "I've got a fine idea, then! Pharaoh will duel the winner, how about that? How about it, Horus?" he asked Atem, who refused to make eye contact with him, as well.

"Don't involve me in your petty squabbling. I won't be party to this."

"You thought the duel between your loyal servants would be a good idea," Bakura said, with mock innocence. "Why don't you join in the fun?"

"... Pharaoh, I believe you should duel the winner," Seto said, slowly, and Atem glanced at him in surprise. For years... I've respected you, when you've said that we shouldn't fight. Men with our power and ties of blood should stand unified, you've said. And, after the last time... But I've lusted for a rematch, Pharaoh. You claim to respect me, but you've denied me the chance to reclaim my pride. We will fight once again, and this time...

Atem, after a moment, dipped his head. "Very well. I'll assent, to this. I will duel the victor."

... ... ...

Yugi, feeling Atem's anxiety spike, raised his head slightly; a warm, dry breeze ruffled his hair. For the purposes of functionality, the two of them kept their minds mostly separate as they went about their days, but they where in the habit of maintaining some awareness of one another's general state.

"Pharaoh?" Yugi queried, across their mental connection.

Atem didn't respond, though Yugi did feel his stress rising as steadily as the Nile during spring. Deciding he shouldn't distract the Pharaoh, Yugi didn't try again to make mental contact.

"Lord Yugi? Is there anything I can get for you?"

Yugi shook his head; smiled at the servant who had paused. He was sitting in a secluded spot of the palace's main courtyard, admiring the blue of the sky and basking in the morning warmth. Within hours, the late summer sun would grow too hot to comfortably enjoy, and he would retreat to the shadowy palace interior.

"No, thank you." Then he paused; said, "What's happened, this morning? Does the Pharaoh have any special visitors?"

"Oh! Yes," the servant said, seeming pleased. "Priest Seto returned this morning!"

"Priest Seto?"

"He's been away for over a year, on a godly quest!" the servant said. "And he's returned at last!"

Priest... Seto... Pharaoh Atem had mentioned his High Priest, his cousin, on occasion, but nothing to give Yugi any real insight into the man or his so-called "godly quest." "Ah. I see. Thank you very much."

As the servant left, Yugi returned his gaze to the sky. But he could still feel Atem's unrest, and it soon became his own. He rose; paced around aimlessly for a moment, and then eventually made his way toward the entrance of the palace. He passed the statue of Thief King Bakura and felt himself smile. Just outside the gate stood a two-wheeled, single-rider chariot, now deserted save for servants and stable-hands who were beginning to tend to the horses and the chariot. The Great Royal Husband watched them work, for a moment, and then strolled back into gardens. He saw and noted where a few flowers had been trampled by hasty feet.

Yugi paced around the courtyard, avoiding palace-folk as much as he could; sticking to the secluded and shadowy areas on the perimeter of the palace. For some time he walked, in slow and methodical patterns, focusing on his surroundings and blocking out even the faint sense of Atem's mind brushing his.

There was a beat of unnatural silence—a moment when the desert winds stopped; when no palace-folk were within sight or earshot; when even the birds fell silent in anticipation of the stifling midday heat that was fast approaching.

Yugi heard the scuff of a foot behind him; felt an arm wrapped around his throat. He stifled a cry of pain as he was jerked backwards and dragged further into the shadow of the palace. He didn't struggle as he was dragged through a flowerbed.

"If you cry out, I'll snap your neck," came a voice close to his ear, and Yugi struggled to draw breath.

"If I cry out, you'll die..." he whispered, and the other's grip on his neck tightened.

"Don't test me, pretty-boy."

Yugi struggled to swallow; whispered, "I won't cry out..."

"Good. Now, tell me where I can find High Priest Seto."

Priest... Seto... "I don't... know..."

Yugi gasped as his body was slammed against the wall, face pressed against the stone. He wheezed softly as a hand tightened around his neck.

"He's an important man, here in the palace. He's the High Priest, almost equal in power to the Pharaoh. Even the lowliest servant has to know where he can be found."

So you have no idea... who I am... I thought so... Yugi had suspected the presence of an intruder—no one who lived in the palace would step carelessly in the flower beds that the Pharaoh so enjoyed, no matter how much of a stir the High Priest's return had caused. Though Atem seemed entirely preoccupied with whatever he was doing, Yugi was careful to keep their minds separate, to avoid alerting the Pharaoh to his current state. "I don't... know..." he repeated, though he couldn't quite get enough breath into his lungs. "But... if you let go of me, for a second..."

The stranger shoved him harder against the wall; Yugi felt his arm twisted behind his back, and realized that this stranger was a practiced fighter. His shoulder creaked.

"Not gonna happen, pretty-boy. Just tell me where I can find Priest Seto. Or, if you really don't know, tell me were I can find someone who does."

Yugi's vision was swimming with black dots, and he hoped the young man's fingers wouldn't leave marks on his neck. "I can take you... to the Pharaoh, if you'd like..."

The man's grip loosened, just a fraction. "The Pharaoh...?" he repeated, and Yugi took the opportunity to draw a ragged breath.

"I think your Priest Seto... is with him now..." That would explain Atem's anxiety, at least. "I can get you... an audience with Pharaoh, if you want..."

The stranger took a step backwards; kept his hand around Yugi's neck, but allowed his grip to slacken a bit more. "An audience with the Pharaoh?"

The sound of footsteps broke into the scene, and the stranger lashed out suddenly. He caught Yugi's temple with his fist, and sent the young Royal Husband crashing to the ground. Several palace-folk—two servants and a guard—appeared around the side of the building an instant later, and one of them cried out.

"Lord Yugi!"

"Shit!" The intruder raised his fists, but in an instant Yugi was up; in front of him.

"Stop, please! It's okay!" Yugi called out, as the palace-folk rushed in; they slowed, in response. "He's my friend!"

"Friend?" one of the servants echoed mistrustfully.

The guard took a step forward. "What do you mean, Lord Yugi?"

"He's my friend, from the village! From my childhood, as a commoner!" Yugi blurted out, arms spread wide. "He snuck into the palace to see me! Please, it's alright! He just startled me, and I tripped. So I know what you thought you saw, but really, he'd never hurt me! He's a very good friend of mine!"

The servants relaxed, though the guard stayed alert as he examined the Royal Husband and the intruder behind him. Forcing a cheerful laugh, Yugi took a step back and linked his arm with that of the stranger—the young man he hadn't even gotten a clear look at.

"He's just here to visit me, so please, it's alright," Yugi repeated, and eventually the guard's tension faded.

"Very well, Lord Yugi," the man said, hand leaving the hilt of his blade. The two servants were examining the stranger curiously, but now without hostility. "Shall we prepare to receive him, as a guest?"

Yugi shook his head. "I'll handle that. Please, don't tell Pharaoh, for now. He's tied up with some very important business, and I don't want to distract him with such a little thing. I'll introduce my friend to everyone properly at another time, when Pharaoh isn't so pressed, what with High Priest Seto's return and everything else."

The guard nodded; bowed. "As you say, Lord Yugi."

"Can we get you anything?" one of the servants asked the stranger, who jumped and stiffened. Yugi tightened his grip on the young man's arm; smiled at the servant.

"He's not used to things like this, so please pardon him. I'll probably take him up to our room shortly, so please have a meal ready for us there, if you would."

The servants nodded willingly; the two of them bowed, murmured farewells, and hurried off. The guard lingered for a moment longer, still eyeing the stranger.

"Are you certain, Lord Yugi?"

"Absolutely!" There was no trace of doubt in the voice of the Great Royal Husband. "I'd trust my precious friend with my life!"

The guard seemed placated; bowed, as the servants had, and left. Only then did the stranger shake himself, albeit gently, from Yugi's grasp.

"Why would you...?" he rasped, seeming at a loss. He dropped down to his knees a moment later, and said, "Friend...? Why would... you... and you're..."

"Mm." Yugi dropped down next to him on the dusty ground; got his first good look at his supposed friend. The young man was tall and leanly muscled, no older than Yugi himself, surely, with wildly tousled blonde hair and limpid, bewildered brown eyes. He was dressed in commoner's clothes—not exactly rags, but certainly not clean, either. He smelled like dust and sweat, and he was covered in scrapes and bruises.

"You're him... You're... the Pharaoh's..."

"I am," Yugi said gently. "I'm sorry they frightened you, like that."

"Why would you do that?!" the stranger demanded. "Why in Set's name would you take that kind of chance for me?!"

"Because I'd like to understand you," Yugi said, extending his hand. "Why you're doing this. Why you're looking for Priest Seto. And, if possible, I <i>would</i> like to be your friend."

The stranger looked down; screwed his eyes shut, and then buried his face in his hands. Yugi took one of his wrists gently, enfolding one calloused hand in both of his.

"I'm Yugi. What's your name?"

"Jounochi..." the other replied faintly, still hiding his face behind one hand.

"Jounochi. Why are you looking for Priest Seto?"

"Because... Because that bastard..." Jounochi seemed to be caught short of breath, then said, "Because that bastard owes me."

Yugi tilted his head. "If it's gold, then I—"

"Not gold..." Jounochi said, shaking his head. He lifted his head; laughed breathlessly, and gazed up at the sky. "Not gold. The bastard... he owes me just one more kiss."

Jounochi Katsuya hurried around the temple of Set, tidying up after worshipers and collecting offerings and otherwise doing what the local priests instructed. It was tiring work, but good work—stable, at least. With a job at the temple, he could support his mother and his sister. With a job at the temple, he could continue living. While they'd survived the great famine, doing so had sapped every resource the small family had, and so now they lived a day-to-day sort of existence. That day was particularly busy, as far as Jounochi's temple work was concerned, but he didn't bother to find out why. Some important person was likely visiting from some far off place—certainly nothing that concerned him.

When the work day was over, Jounochi made his way to a local tavern. That was fairly standard practice for him—not at all a usual habit for a temple attendant, but he saw no conflict. Within a period made short and effortless with practice, he was pleasantly relaxed, laughing and chatting cheerfully with other regular patrons that he knew well.

A hand threaded suddenly through Jounochi's shaggy blonde hair, and he spun to face an unfamiliar man.

"What's the damn idea, y' jerk?" he demanded, even as he realized that the strange man was uncomfortably attractive—tall, with brown hair and dignified, flawless features. He gave off an upper-class type of aura, even though his clothing did nothing to identify him as such.

Instead of replying, the man reached forward again; tipped Jounochi's chin up, a bit forcefully. Some of Jounochi's acquaintances laughed or called out encouragement.

"Do you drink wine? Or just vulgar commoners' beer?"

Jounochi felt the blood rise to his face, and he swatted the stranger's hand away. "What's it to ya?"

"Wine, please," the man called to the tavern's owner, ignoring the question. "The best you have."

"Hey! Jerk!" Jounochi grabbed the stranger's wrist; the man looked down at him in surprise, and Jounochi glowered up at him. "What's the idea?"

"You'll have a drink with me," the man said simply, then wrenched his hand free and sat down beside Jounochi's usual seat. After a moment of hesitation, Jounochi sat beside him. "You come here often?"

"Almost every night," Jounochi replied brusquely, seeing no reason to lie.

"Ever drink wine?" the man asked.

Jounochi scoffed. "Nah. Beer does the trick."

The tavern's owner had brought over a bottle of wine, then, and two bowls. The stranger poured some, and pushed a bowl over to Jounochi. "Make an exception, tonight."

Jounochi shrugged—free drink was free drink, he figured, and allowed his eyes to wander up and down the stranger's body. Uncomfortably attractive was a good way to put it, he thought again, and swallowed a gulp of wine. It was stronger than his usual fare, and burned a bit.

"Tell me about yourself," the other prompted, sipping his own wine. So Jounochi, again seeing no reason to lie, rambled on about his dead father and his well-meaning mother and his chronically ill sister. He ranted about how he wasn't a particularly devout believer, but the temple work kept his family alive. None of it was any great secret—something anyone could have learned about him, simply by asking around that very tavern—and he enjoyed the way the man's eyes glowed with interest when he spoke.

When he ran out of words—and wine, to chase them with—he said, "And you? What kinda story does a handsome bastard like you have to his name?"

The stranger shrugged. "That's not important."

"I think it is," Jounochi challenged, and objected, "Hey!" when the stranger took hold of his chin again.

"It's not important," the man said again, and kissed him. Jounochi's first reaction was to push up into the contact—the man's mouth was hot and lusty, his lips moving in a practiced way. But a moment later Jounochi drew back; shoved the stranger in the chest.

"What'd you think you're doing?" he huffed, and the stranger smirked.

"Wooing you."

"If this your idea of courtship, man, you should get a better strategy."

"I think it's working just fine," the man said, and kissed him against. This time Jounochi didn't pull away as quickly; let the stranger's powerful arms wrap around him, and kissed back.

The trip from the tavern to the stranger's dwelling was a blur made hazy with alcohol and kisses. But Jounochi came back to himself, slightly, when he found himself thrust down onto a bed—softer, he registered faintly, than an average commoner's bed.

"I'm not some whore you can just have," he grunted, even as the stranger crawled up over top of him.

"Would you rather have me, then?" the stranger asked huskily, and Jounochi's whole body grew hot. "I don't mind either way."

"N-Nah... that'd be..." Why would it be strange? As reluctant as he might be to admit it, Jounochi wanted this stranger to take him—wanted to be trapped beneath this powerful frame and ravaged by these skillful lips and strong hands.

"Are you... inexperienced?"

"... With guys, yeah."

The stranger smirked, then; gave a warm, somewhat derisive little chuckle. "Well. I'll be sure to take good care of you, then."

The stranger wasn't gentle—he was commanding, and at times rough. Jounochi loved that. Though he kept his word—took great care, with Jounochi—the stranger didn't treat him like he was fragile. When morning came, Jounochi wasn't surprised to find himself alone in the stranger's bed, sore and tangled in blankets made filthy by passion.

The stranger appeared from a washroom off to the side of the room, towel-drying his hair, wrapped in a thin, maize-colored robe that showed every contour of his body. "If you'd like to wash up," he said brusquely, and jerked his head toward the washroom. "After that you need to leave."

"Yeah, that'd probably be a good idea..." Jounochi murmured, and yawned.

Jounochi tided himself up, suspicions roused yet again by the quality of the soaps and perfumes that populated the stranger's washroom. When he'd finished, he peered out at the stranger, who was standing beside and gazing out the room's window.

Who are you...?

"Are you ready?" the man asked, without turning.

"Yeah..." Jounochi slipped into his sandals; walked toward the door, but kept his eyes fixed on the stranger. The man didn't seem to hear him as he approached, and jumped when Jounochi wrapped his arms around his waist.

"What are you doing?" the man growled, twisting as if to get away. Jounochi rested his chin on the man's shoulder.

"Last night was fun. We should do it again some time."

"I'm leaving this town, today," the stranger huffed, turning his face away. "You need to go, now."

"What's your name? Tell me that, at least."

"I never asked for yours. You've got no right to ask mine."

"Jounochi..." Jounochi breathed, and the stranger stiffened. "Jounochi Katsuya... that's my name. Now tell me yours."

"Get off me," the stranger grunted, and drew a sharp breath when Jounochi nipped his ear. "Enough!"

"Just tell me your name. That's not too much to ask."

"Go!" the man snapped, and Jounochi frowned.

"Fine." He let his arms drop; said, "Fine. I'll just have to figure it out myself, then."

A hand grabbed the back of his collar; jerked him backwards, and Jounochi squeaked with surprise.

"You will do no such thing, puppy," the man growled, close to his ear. "Don't get involved in things you can't possibly comprehend."

"Don't underestimate me!" Jounochi snapped, breaking away and spinning.

"Learn your place, dog!" the man shouted, and Jounochi stiffened.

"I'm no dog, you upper-class bastard!"

The stranger stiffened; pushed Jounochi toward the door again. "Get out. Get out!"

"You haven't seen the last of me!" Jounochi swore, even as the door was slammed in his face. "You hear me?! Jerk! You haven't seen the last of Jounochi Katsuya!"

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