The previous day had given Phil much to think about. Solomon Muto’s kindness, the confirmation of his place in the timeline, and a chance to clear his head. In the hectic aftermath of his sudden reincarnation, those were welcome reprieves amid the freezing cold snow. Once Phil had gotten back to the small camp under the bridge, he spent hours familiarizing himself with the deck Solomon gifted him. Every card, every effect, every small combo that the deck, as rudimentary as it was by modern (or even GOAT format) standards, could bring to bear were committed to memory. It wasn’t consistent. What power the deck had tended to be locked behind various conditions Phil would have to meet, but it was better than nothing.
Better than nothing, Phil comforted himself with that fact. Considering just how many people were in Kame Game alone, he had to assume that Duel Monsters, though early in its days, was popping off like crazy. Yes, early days. Phil knew that for a fact now, as moments before he left the shop, he'd overheard Solomon mention his Blue-Eyes White Dragon card in hushed tones. Hushed, but not mournful. Meaning the card was still yet to be destroyed by Seto Kaiba.
Those thoughts, among others, had seen the rest of the day fly by in a flash before night came. Phil slept fitfully by the fire contained in the steel drum. It was not out of fear of his deck being stolen, though it was his only possession besides the clothes on his back. Lumina stood guard, assuring Phil that her need for sleep was nonexistent. Just like eating, she only slept to keep a routine (something she claimed even the oldest duel spirits did. It apparently helped keep a spirit’s sanity intact even after millions of years of existence flew by).
His fitful sleep was for other reasons. With no mission given by the Lightsworn Corporation, there was no obvious way to get home. Meanwhile, D.3.S. Frog was still extremely weakened after protecting him from the backlash of a lost shadow game at Duel Academy. In a nutshell, while he had the short-term goals of ‘staying alive’ and ‘making fat stacks of cash off of dueling’, his long-term goals of ‘getting home’ and ‘helping Lumina’ felt pretty unobtainable at the moment.
But as the sun rose in the morning sky once more, Phil was met with another surprise. He’d been in the middle of a hushed conversation with Lumina, heedless of what it may have looked like to the casual observer (who would be unable to see Lumina). A man approached, casually sitting on the ground next to Phil to warm his hands by the fire. The space around the barrel was crowded, surrounded by a throng of filthy men and women trying to keep away the chill of the morning. Phil, politely, muttered a word of greeting toward the man.
And the man stared back at him, eyes as wide as saucers with shock.
The man had long, tangled hair that fell in a mess to touch the top of his shoulders. On top of his head was a knitted hat that was so stained by dirt that the original color was impossible to see. A goatee, at one point lovingly maintained, but now quite neglected, decorated the man’s chin. His clothing was as ragged as Phil was, though at a closer look, that had not always been the case. He wore a purple suit, one that was wrinkled and torn by the natural effects of a hard life. Underneath that poked a stained and dirty white dress shirt, its collar ragged at the edges. He wore a pair of khaki pants – pants that were as dirty and full of holes as his suit – which if the outfit was still in its prime, would have pulled together the ensemble to give the man a rather professional look. His shoes were a pair of beaten-down black leather loafers, those too being a hint at a life that was once fancy, but was now stained, tired, and penniless.
“French?” The man whispered in wonder at first, but then his voice with excitement as he spoke with an odd accent to his words. “Forgive my rudeness, but is this a fellow countryman in a strange land that I spy before my very eyes?” The man looked closer, peering at Phil’s face, before continuing. “Hm, not quite so, unless you, a Japanese man, once had the fortune to visit my home country. No matter! My friend, you have no idea how much of a blessing it is to finally hear words I understand!”
Phil sent a side-eye toward Lumina, who shrugged back. The man hardly seemed bothered by the fact that Lumina was still invisible, and Phil would have appeared to be having an animated conversation with thin air.
The man, mistakenly thinking his lack of response for hesitation, stood up and bowed elegantly. Despite the man’s overall raggedness and lean look that spoke of a lack of regular meals, his bow swept a smooth arc through the air.
“My dearest friend, allow me to introduce myself! I am Jean Dubois, a proud Frenchman and a true lover of women! To meet a man such as yourself who possesses such a mastery over the beautiful language of my home country, this must be fate at work. I am forever in your debt! May our friendship endure the tallest of waves and the most frightening of storms!”
Phil stared at Jean Dubois, finally getting the picture. The man was a foreigner who didn’t speak Japanese and probably lacked any sort of money to get home. With whatever translation magic Lumina or D.3.S. had going, this was probably the first time in who knew how long that Jean had met someone he could actually talk to. The dude seemed like a nice guy, at least. There was something about him, a sort of magnetic part of his personality that in all honesty, reminded Phil of Jaden. They both had that ability to make a guy want to be friends with them.
“Sure, okay.” Phil shrugged amicably, taking Jean’s outstretched hand in his own and shaking it firmly, “I’m Phil. Good to meet a brother in a strange land.”
Jean sat down next to Phil, and while the man chattered away about nothing in particular, Phil shot another glance toward Lumina.
“Translation magic isn’t limited to just Japanese,” Lumina nodded toward the joyful Frenchman, “Whenever you speak, people will hear your words in the language they know best, just as you hear everything in English. It’s the same as last time, only instead of it being a part of the Lightsworn Corporation Reincarnator Courtesy Package, I’m the one powering it.”
Before Phil could follow up, though, Lumina continued to speak, her face filling with equal parts exasperation toward the Lightsworns and concern toward Phil. The realization of that concern was enough for a lump to form in Phil's throat. To think, after all the shit she had to deal with because she worked with assholes and interfered too much last time, Lumina still brushed aside her own problems to help him out without a second of hesitation.
“Yeah. You’d better enjoy it. Since I left the corporation, I lost access to the employee magic generator. What spells I can still cast after that are limited. I used up a lot of my magic finding you in the first place. Then add a slow drain for the translation magic. On top of that drain, add another one. That one’s powering the magic keeping your body from self-destructing over drug withdrawal symptoms because Ryko’s a dirtbag and shoved your soul in a dead crackhead. With all that in play, there isn’t much else I can do other than stay invisible and keep my interactions with the physical world as short as possible.”
Phil nodded in understanding, tucking away the rather ominous ‘withdrawal’ issue for future Phil to deal with since present Phil had no idea how to fix that. The two takeaways from Lumina’s words were pretty obvious. He couldn’t expect any more friendly magic until D.3.S. got some food in his belly, and Lumina was once again putting her neck on the line to save his ass. From what Jean was describing in rapid-fire French, you either spoke Japanese or spoke to no one, because no one would understand you or even bother to understand you. It had nearly driven the extrovert Frenchman mad in those years he’d been in Japan so far.
“Oui, Monsieur, I have learned that one must always watch the wallet, even in a country as nice as Japan!” Jean laughed with only a slight amount of bitterness in his voice. “After being pickpocketed moments after entering the airport, I was left with no plane tickets, no money, and no way to get home.”
Upon hearing two words that failed to translate, Lumina spoke with a frown before Phil could ask.
“He’s talking too fast. It’s causing my translation magic to skip a word or two.”
Phil tucked away that information and replied to Jean with a rueful smile. “I woke up in this park with no ID and no money myself.”
Jean put his arm around Phil, both of them laughing over their shared misfortune.
“Then!” Jean cheered, “We truly are brothers, if by misfortune alone!” Jean then pulled away, digging in his tattered pockets for a few seconds before pulling out a wrinkled pack of cigarettes. It was mostly empty, with only a few cigarettes left in it, and Jean offered one to Phil while he took another.
“Ah, sorry mate. I don’t smoke.” Phil waved a hand to decline. Jean shrugged and lit his up, taking a deep puff in celebration.
Jean leaned his head away to blow a large cloud of smoke in the opposite direction of Phil, before fishing around in his pockets once more.
“Say, how about we get out of the cold for a bit?” Jean said, “I have a coin or two scrounged up, and I know this place a couple of blocks away where the coffee's cheap. If we time it right, there's this really nice waitress who'll let us sit at one of the tables near the back until her shift ends, so long as we don’t cause trouble. Or at least that’s what I think she was miming to me last time, and I haven’t gotten kicked out yet.”
“Sounds good to me.” Phil replied. While the barrel had some warmth to it, there was only so much fire could do to battle the frigid wind that like to howl through the underside of the bridge.
After a few minutes of walking, the snowy streets parted to reveal a restaurant that was already somewhat familiar to Phil. A green roof, white awning, and a giant, mustached burger wearing a chef’s hat on the roof.
Stolen story; please report.
Burger World, otherwise known as that one restaurant Tea Gardner worked at early on in the manga.
As Jean darted up closer to the building to peer through the window, Phil stuck his hands in his frayed pockets, mind racing. Not only was this one of the places where Tea worked, but if his memory served him correctly, Atem had also set some dude on fire inside at one point.
“Phil! The nice girl’s on duty! We’re cleared to go in!” Jean called out, extinguishing the stub of his cigarette on the ground. Phil grinned, and as he followed Jean inside, he could see Tea Gardner, pink waitress’s uniform and all, smile gently at them in welcome. As quietly as possible, Phil and Jean walked over to the booth at the back of the restaurant, close to a service entrance. It wasn’t a place they’d be easily seen from, as a wall was partially in between them and the door.
The booths inside were splashes of red and yellow colors between the white-painted walls. A smooth, carefully maintained tile floor shone underneath, causing tiny squeaks to issue from every step of shoes made damp from the snow outside. Above, warm yellow lights shone like stars dotting the sky-blue ceiling. The calm lights added to the feeling of happy warmth that permeated the building. The restaurant, while not overflowing with people, still had plenty of customers with the mind for getting out of the cold and enjoying however much time there was left until the breakfast menu swapped to the lunch menu.
Some were high schoolers, enjoying the day off brought by the snow closing the schools down, while others were as varied of a mix of people as one could expect for a popular family restaurant. In fact, there were even a few faces Phil could recognize. Near the front, horsing around without a care in the world, Yugi, Joey, and Tristan devoured plates stacked with pancakes several inches thick, drenched in so much syrup that the food looked like islands in the middle of a sugary, gloopy lake.
In contrast, however, the booths in the back were fairly deserted. Other than a couple of shady individuals, and one or two salarymen, their attention fully absorbed in their newspapers as they shoveled cheesy eggs into their mouths, Phil and Jean were the only people in the back.
In between it all raced smiling waitresses decked out in short pink dresses, each one holding aloft pots of coffee and serving trays so laden with food that they swayed dangerously in the air. The waitresses weaved around the booths and tables like dancers in motion, spilling not a drop of coffee or a morsel of food on the floor.
The two men sat down with a grateful sigh directed toward the heated insides of the building. It was much better than the fire barrel, and soon enough Phil was able to feel his legs once more. Next to Phil sat Lumina, who, other than cracking open her familiar thermos of tea to sip from, appeared content to sit back and enjoy the ambiance.
After only a few minutes of waiting, Tea bustled up to them, smiling first at Jean and then at Phil, who replied with a polite 'Good Morning’.
“Good morning sirs! I’m Tea, I’ll be helping you today!" Tea cheerfully said to Phil, placing a steaming pot of coffee and two cups on the table. It was as if she could read their minds. “The coffee’s bottomless here, so if you run out, just give me a holler! Otherwise I’ll be by in twenty!”
Jean placed two grimy silver-colored one-yen coins on the table, bowing deeply in thanks before turning his full attention to the piping hot pot of coffee. Tea left soon after that, smiling and saying that while she had other customers to help, she hoped that the two would be able to enjoy the warmth for as long as her shift lasted.
Phil watched her leave, noticing that the girl had left Jean’s coins alone where they lay on the table.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
After several hours sitting in the booth talking about nothing in particular, Phil was able to readily agree that piping hot coffee in a warm restaurant was the perfect way to brush off the cold air of the outside. It felt like all his worries, while still present, were lesser than they once were.
Tea, of course, was true to her word, stopping by every twenty minutes to make sure their coffee pot was topped up to the brim with the delicious nectar of the gods, no matter how busy she got. Each time Jean would beg (through Phil) for her to take his coins, and each time the angel in the shape of a Japanese schoolgirl would politely wave her hand in refusal. Phil almost had to do a double take to make sure Tea didn’t have a literal halo hovering over her short brown hair.
Each refusal of those coins was backed up by Tea with yet another reason as to why Jean should keep his money. That it would be simply criminal for her to let the men be frozen to their bones outside. That according to the menu, coffee was super cheap already – hardly worth even charging for in the first place, she was sure it would be a matter of time before official policy made the drink complementary! That the cooks back in the kitchen were happy that their efforts to brew it up weren’t going to be wasted. Eventually, even Jean’s pride crumbled under her kindness, and he placed the two coins back in his pocket for another day.
The only thing Tea did ask them for was their names, which Phil and Jean gratefully gave. After that, every time Tea dropped by their table to refill the pot of coffee, she made sure to greet them by name, no matter how busy the restaurant got.
As the two men began to run short of conversation topics, however, Phil took out his deck and began to absentmindedly shuffle it in his hands out of habit between sips of coffee. He had a deck now. The question remained; would it be possible for him to participate in a tournament with cash prizes? Considering he had no ID or papers, which would be required for a normal job, a cash tournament felt like his best bet unless he wanted to go down the crime route.
And at that exact moment, a note of surprise crept into the voice of Jean Dubois.
"A fellow duelist as well? Phil, my friend, you prove yourself to be quite the Renaissance man!"
Phil raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you know how to duel too?”
Jean answered by reaching into the breast pocket of his purple suit, withdrawing a familiar-looking stack of 40 cards to place on the table.
“In France, many of us learn while we are still in our mother’s womb! It’s been popular for years.” Jean grinned, “But here in Japan, I was under the impression that the game was quite new.”
Phil took that new information in stride. So, Duel Monsters had started abroad, instead of right here in Japan.
“Huh. How about a duel, then?”
Jean nodded eagerly at the suggestion and worked with Phil to carefully wipe down the table before they set their cards out. As long as they managed their voices, the general bustle of the restaurant would be enough so that they wouldn't draw attention. Neither of them wanted Tea to get into trouble for letting two bums hang out for free, even if it was in the back and nearly out of sight. But, before either of them could draw their starting hands, another voice spoke out.
“Duelists, huh? So, even bastards as filthy as you two can get in on the action,” A man said, walking up to their table from where he’d originally been sitting a few booths down. The man’s face was littered with scars, some small while others traveled from the bottom of his chin to the top of his forehead. He was wearing a black suit, unbuttoned at the chest so that the bright orange Hawaiian shirt underneath bloomed like a flower in a dark wasteland. Poking out just above his shirt collar was a vibrant red tattoo, the head of a snarling long-whiskered Eastern-style dragon that wound its way up his neck. The man extended a hand, one that Phil noticed was missing a pinky finger, before continuing to speak.
“Not only that, but it looks like you two losers could use some green in your life. You know, some stacks of Yen.”
As Phil quickly relayed the man’s words to Jean, the Frenchman leaned forward with an uncharacteristic seriousness in his eyes. Then, speaking quietly in French, Jean whispered a word of warning to Phil.
“That guy looks like bad news, mon ami.”
Phil nodded. Not only was the dude sketchy as fuck, but Phil also had a pretty good idea that the man was about to suggest some sort of gambling scheme involving Duel Monsters. Why else had he come over the second Phil and Jean pulled their cards out? And while he was quite aware of the ‘ante’ rule in the manga, where the loser of a game had to give the winner their most valuable card, Phil still didn’t like the idea of gambling over his favorite game.
Though, on the other hand, wasn’t cash prizing in tournaments a form of gambling, albeit a lesser one?
Continuing without a care in the world for the words Jean had spoken that he couldn't understand, the man grinned to reveal several gold teeth.
“See, I am part of an… organization, if you will, which allows for strong duelists to get their… money’s worth from the game they know best. It’s a better way to get some cash than trying to win a tournament, shall I say.”
Each word coming out of the man's voice was like pitch-black oil threatening to cover Phil’s skin and smother the life out of it. While the man wasn’t exactly precise with his words, the gist was there – gambling on games of Duel Monsters.
But how else could they make money? After leaving Kame Game, Phil had indeed considered going back and begging Solomon for a job. He had a feeling the elderly man would agree.
He also had a feeling that the job would be given partially out of pity, instead of entirely out of merit. It was a consideration that Phil had grappled with. Struggling through life as a bum, or getting a job through pity. Survival or pride? When he voiced that to Lumina, she’d shaken her head and laughed, saying that Phil’s idiotic sense of self-reliance hadn’t changed a bit.
Self-reliance. He knew as well as Lumina did that it had gotten him in trouble before. Perhaps if he’d gotten a teacher’s help, then New York wouldn’t have been such a shitshow. Maybe Dimitri would still be alive.
Yet there was also a feeling inside him, a burning curiosity that demanded to know more about the gambling ring. The act of gambling on a children’s card game maybe wasn’t what Phil preferred to do, but it was far more than that. The dude was shady as fuck. He was a yakuza, or in some other similar gang, if Phil had to guess.
And that led Phil to his conclusion. Gangsters were almost always assholes at best, and murderous animals at worst. If the people involved were evil enough… Phil shot a glance down at his coat pocket, where he could feel a reassuring, amphibian presence reside. Technically it would still be the crime route, but some people were better off not being in the world. It was an unfortunate reality, a lesson learned through several painful experiences during his time at Duel Academy. No matter. If he succeeded, it would mean more magic. Maybe D.3.S. could take some of the burden off Lumina’s shoulders.
Phil reached out to offer a handshake, but the man yanked back his hand with a flicker of disgust in his eyes, instead gesturing for Phil and Jean to stand.
“Follow me, if you wish to test your might and make your fortune.” The man said in his oily voice. But this time, the words did not feel as disgusting as they once were.
“An adventure, it seems," Jean said as he stood, offering a reassuring nod to Phil. “We’ll watch each other’s backs, yes?”
Phil’s hand met Jean’s in a rough handshake. “I’ve got yours if you’ve got mine.”
“And I’ve got yours too, Phil.” Lumina spoke up, cracking her knuckles threateningly, while an ominous croak echoed out of his coat pocket.
Thus the two men, after bowing deeply to Tea in thanks, winded their way out of the restaurant. Tea, as busy as she was with helping customers, managed to shoot a wink back, mouthing the words ‘keep safe!’ before they left. As the shady man left, however, Tea’s eyes narrowed, before she shot another look toward Phil that simply conveyed the words, ‘I hope you know what you’re doing’. At that moment Phil knew the second he gave the signal, Tea Gardner would come rushing over to de-escalate the situation, to help two men she hardly knew. Doubtlessly Joey, who was still wolfing down pancakes a few feet away, would also see Tea’s movement and stand up to fold the yakuza in half with Tristan.
It was just who she was. Kind and caring to a fault, even to two bums she barely knew.
However, Phil gave her a reassuring nod. He had a good idea of what was to come, and if he was right, then it would be best for her not to be involved when D.3.S. got his share of food.
Outside in the cold winter wind, the scarred man beckoned impatiently for Phil and Jean to follow. In the far distance, pointed out by the man, who had introduced himself as ‘Chet’, was a building that shimmered with bright purple neon lights and positively stank of desperation.