Summary: When Ryou is temporally transferred to a boarding school, he thought the worst he had to deal with was keeping

his councilor from getting too suspicious, but when old "enemies" start poppin' up... Is this what normal teen life's supposed to be like?! Japanese glossary Aa = (informal) "Yes" Daijoubou desu ka = "Are you alright?" Drop the "desu ka" and it becomes "I'm fine." Che = (interjection) "Shit!" Hai = (formal) "Yes" Iie = (formal) "No" Kitsune = "Fox" Ku = (sound) Used a lot in the manga by everybody, but mostly Bakura. I've seen it used to express everything from smugness to pain to annoyance to apprehension to amusement... (it slices, it dices and it even makes Jillian fries?) Is This Normal?! By Lizeth Chapter 1: Meeting Ryou Bakura Tomodachi Hanako smiled reassuringly at the boy across the desk and was glad to receive a tentative smile back. Ryou would be attending Hokushin High for the next few months, apparently while his father was on some expedition in Egypt. She wasn't sure on the details. "Looks like everything is in order, Bakura-kun," she admitted, lining up the papers in her hand. "Welcome to Hokushin." Ryou fidgeted. "Arigato, Tomodachi-san," the white-haired boy said politely, although he still wouldn't meet her eyes. She fought a frown. I'm not that scary! Brown haired and brown eyed, Hanako's features were kind. Being in her early thirties, she had no intention of pushing daisies anytime soon. "I'm sure you'll fit in fine, Bakura-kun." Ryou's eyes flashed up to her face for an instant, but it was enough for Hana to catch the doubt in his eyes. //She has no idea what she's talking about, does she?// Bakura scowled. /Shhh... Yami!/ Discretely, Hana eyed the boy again as he stood and shrugged on his backpack. Actually, Ryou wasn't one to blend in easily. His hair was white and spiky, almost luminescent as the sun filtered down on him from her window, a sharp contrast to his softly accented voice. His features were pale and delicate, except for a slight sharpness around the eyes. Definitely what girls would call "bishonen" material.

Still, she was picking up something strange from this boy. Her instincts were usually quite accurate, which was why she made such a good school councilor, but from Ryou, it felt like she was getting double feedback. "Tomodachi-san!" a voice called softly. "Huh?" Hanako started and blinked, only to find a slightly amused transfer student staring back, leaning forward across the desk. Her eyebrows raised. His eyes were an ordinary hazel brown, but they were so piercing! As if they missed nothing. She pushed down a shudder. "My papers, Tomodachi-san?" he prompted gently, grinning and dropping his eyes again as if he was all too aware of her discomfort. "Oh! Sorry. I guess I... spaced out, huh?" Ryou shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Tomodachi-san, I do that too from time to time," he said, and smiled wistfully as if he was sharing a secret only he could understand. From what she could tell, he was honest and friendly, if a little shy. So what could possibly be setting off her internal alarms? I can puzzle over it later. Laughing, she surrendered his papers. "Please, call me Hana-san. Everyone does. 'Tomodachi-san' is such a mouth full." Hokushin's newest student nodded and opened the door, papers tucked under one arm. "Need help finding your dorm room, Bakura-kun?" she offered, standing as well. "No, I should be fine, thanks," he replied. "Alright, one piece of advice though. Watch out for Kurokaze-san. He's... not in the best of moods." "He's never in the best of moods!" piped in a cheerful voice from the other side of the door. "Mizu-san! Ever hear of student-teacher confidence?" Hana scolded her secretary, raising her voice to be heard, more exasperated than angry. Ryou giggled quietly. "Kurokaze-san?" "He's somewhere between security and groundskeeper." "Ah. Thank you for the warning," Ryou smiled easily, bowing,then brushing back spiky white bangs away from his wide brown eyes. Hanako watched with slight amazement. Alright, I've got to ask. Clearing her throat: "Bakura-kun... How exactly did you get your hair like that?" genuine curiosity lacing her voice. Ryou turned back, surprise flitting across his features, but then settling into something else. With deliberate slowness, the teen partially closed the door, eyes turning so unexpectedly serious that Hana had to fight the urge to step back in surprise as his gaze was pinned directly on her. He opened his mouth to speak and"...That's a secret." -With a crooked smirk, he was gone.

As the door swung gently, Hanako gave a scoff of disbelief, heart still racing, features puzzled. So many secrets... Maybe I'll discover a few of them, before you leave, ne? Picking up her cold coffee with distaste, she stared into the murky water as more conflicting information surfaced in her brain. For an instant, she could've sworn his eyes flashed from gentle hazel to jaded, mischievous ruby. With a sigh she dumped the coffee carelessly on one of her poor potted plants and sat back down on her desk only to jump back up again. "Mizu-san!" the younger woman whined, clutching her chest. Mizu-san tucked a stray grey hair behind her ear and tsked lightly, somehow having entered the room without Hana noticing. "I keep telling you not to do that, dear. It'll either kill them or make them high from the caffeine!" "Plants don't get high, Mizu-san," the councilor refuted flatly. The elderly secretary just smiled serenely. "If you're sure, dear. What do you think of our latest addition?" "I'm not one to judge so soon." Mizu-san laughed. "But I'm sure you've formed an opinion anyway." Hana rolled her eyes. "I'm a bit worried. He's so different from everyone, and not just in looks. There's something else too." Hana's eyes dropped to her desk. Ah, damn, where has my mind gone today?! With only a rushed excuse for the amused secretary, she tore off (as fast as teacher's dignity would allow) after the student whose schedule she'd forgotten to return. /Yami!/ Ryou cried, only to feel dry amusement wash over him from his other. //Just giving her something to chew on,// Bakura replied and Ryou could picture the carnal grin on his Yami's face. /It's called 'feeding the fire', Yami/ the light scolded as he walked away from the office. /I think you scared her./ //How can you be sure she isn't used to violent mood swings from hormonal teenagers?// Ryou sighed. /I'm trying to keep a low profile, Yami, and you're not helping. 'Schizophrenic' is not the kind of reputation I want to carry... and technically I haven't even started my first day of school./ //Maybe if they think you're insane the bullies will stay away from you for once,// the dark countered scathingly. The white haired boy shuddered, failing to notice the stares he was getting as he blindly wandered the school, engrossed in his inner conversation. It was no secret that Bakura resented his hikari's lack of ability to fight back. It was proven again and again every time he transferred. It stopped for a while, when he was at Domino High with Yugi-tachi, but now it was almost certain to start again. And every time he failed to defend himself, he could be sure to receive a follow up "lesson" from his Yami later. /Yami, please I-/ Ryou yelped as he was pulled by his hair from behind. //Speak of the devil,// his Yami purred dangerously in his mind.

"Well, what do we have here?" Cold hard eyes stared down and Ryou fought to breathe. /Yami.../ he called hesitantly, but all he could hear was a resounding and empty click as the door to his other's soul room closed shut. Chapter 2: Welcome to Hokushin Ryou's hand automatically reached back to try to relieve the pain as he clutched his hair protectively and thankfully his assailant let go. He was spun around harshly to meet the face of cleanly shaven man with dark frigid eyes and a matching scowl marring his mouth. The teen wet his lips. "Ah... sir?" he asked tentatively. The man was at least a head and shoulder taller than he was, and couldn't possibly be a student. Ryou prayed fervently that he wasn't a teacher. "You know the rules. If you brats insist on dying your hair, it at least has to be natural colours." If it was possible, the man frowned even more. "And no jewelry," he sneered as his eyes caught the millennium ring, glinting tauntingly in the sunlight. Ryou opened his mouth, hand rubbing at the raw spot on his scalp. "I don't colour my hair!" he said, caught between incredulity and fear. He took a step back as the man poked him sharply on the chest. "You expect me to believe that that's natural?" The teenager winced. "Yes." "Regular freak of nature, you mean," the man scowled and watched in satisfaction as the teen's eyes darkened and dropped to study the tiled floor. The boy, however, had an entirely different reason behind his actions. Apparently his Yami wasn't as indifferent as he was lead to believe... or at least it seemed he didn't enjoy having his hair insulted. In any case, Bakura had been watching, and he wasn't happy. Ryou's fists tightened as he felt his Yami surfacing. "Excuse me, please, I don't want any trouble..." the white-haired boy said softly, more calmly than he felt and turned abruptly in an attempt to walk away. Unfortunately, the man had different ideas. Grabbing the transfer student by his arm this time, he pulled violently, eliciting a startled cry and sending the papers his victim was carrying scattering to the floor. "I'm not done with you yet." Ryou hissed and bit his lip. "Kurokaze-san!" a worried voice called. Bakura smirked. //Ah, I guess I get to meet Kurokaze sooner than expected...// /Yami.../ //Shut up!// Bakura retorted, but to his Hikari's relief he made no further efforts to elicit control. "Kurokaze-san! What's going on?" Hana panted as she glanced at the tableau before her. Kurokaze had a grip on the new student's arm at was painful just to look at. "Let him go." Kurokaze-san just stared at her coldly with his ever-present frown.

"Hana-san. This boy is blatantly breaking school rules. Dying his hair and letting it grow so long... He's not even in uniform!" The brown-eyed councilor straightened as she caught her breath and met his gaze with a frown of her own. "I'm afraid that's my fault, Kurokaze-san. He didn't know. He's been here for all of 10 minutes," she said, flapping the piece of paper in her hand. "You'll have to forgive me, I forgot to bring him up to date." Her face melted into an easy smile, but it failed to reach her eyes. "I even forgot to return his schedule!" she laughed self-depreciatingly. The groundskeeper held his silence and her gaze, an unspoken challenge filling the air. Ryou, meanwhile, just looked helplessly from one figure to the other. Hana felt her heart go out to him. At that instant he looked so lost, maternal instincts just kicked into high gear. For a while it seemed as if the grounds keeper wouldn't relent, but Ryou let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding as the man growled in acquiescence. "Very well," he hard-faced man finally ground out, and Hana watched as her new student took a hasty step back as soon as he was released, rubbing his arm gingerly. "But he'll have to do something about that hair." "I don't dye my hair!" Ryou restated with a hint of desperation, but blushed as two of the staff members turned their gazes on him, one malevolent and the other placating. "I'm sure we'll come up with something, Kurokaze-san," Hana said pleasantly. The other man just grunted in response, barking at the students in his way as he stomped off. They promptly scattered in response. Ryou swallowed as he realized that a crowd had gathered in a loose ring around him, pushing down panic. Funny how you never realized you were claustrophobic until too late. //So much for keeping a low profile,// his Yami remarked wryly, clearly finding his hikari's predicament humorous, and despite himself, Ryou felt a twinge of annoyance run through him. Without so much as a word to his other, he erected a hasty mental barrier between them. It wasn't all that impressive, and Bakura would be able to break through it easily if he tried, but for now, his Yami didn't seem to want to bother. Of course, it would've been much more satisfying if Ryou hadn't heard his Yami laughing through their bond before the wall went up. He sighed and started picking up his papers, studiously ignoring the curious gazes he felt on his back, his eyes flicking up only once to acknowledge the school councilor as she bent down to help. Hana raised an eyebrow at the collected students from her position on the floor and thankfully they all took the hint as they sheepishly drifted away, gossiping in low tones about the new boy. Ryou felt heat work its way up his neck as the girls giggled about him and the boys pointed out instead how scrawny he looked in his "sissy sweater". If only he could find a dark corner right now... They worked this way for a while, neither speaking a word as they methodically picked the papers off the cold tiles. Finally, Ryou spoke. "Thank you, Hana-san," he said, tones soft and melodious in the now emptied corridor.

He'd probably make a good councilor himself, Hana thought ruefully. What, with that voice. Outwardly, she smiled apologetically. "No, actually, I should be apologizing. Kurokaze-san is not usually so... harsh. Please, Bakura-kun, don't judge our school by his actions alone?" she pleaded, bowing as she handed him his papers. If anything her new transfer student seemed embarrassed as he hastily took the papers from her hand and nodded. Hana sighed. He still wouldn't meet her eyes. "Don't worry, Hana-san. You did try to warn me, after all. Next time, I'll pay more attention," he offered a watery smile. Closing her eyes, Hana threw up her hands. "Oh for God's sake, you don't need to make excuses for him. Kurokaze-san had no right to do that." She was met with a shy smile in response. "Ah..." Shaking her head in exasperation, she spoke: "You're too nice, Bakura-kun." She didn't notice when Ryou hastily turned his head to hide a frown. You don't know me at all, he countered mentally. //Doesn't realize how destructive you are, eh?// he thought he heard his Yami whisper. But it was Bakura, was it? "So, what to do with that hair?" From the way Ryou's head snapped up so suddenly, Hana had to fight a smile. He was clutching his head protectively in an act she was beginning to suspect he wasn't even aware of performing. "I'm not dying my hair!" he practically wailed, eyes almost comically wide. She couldn't keep it in anymore. Laughter bubbled from her throat and left her clutching at the snitch in her side. Her poor befuddled student just watched and pouted, half amused and half fearful of her reaction. "Oh dear, I'm sorry," she gasped, "Just- you looked so..." "Well, I'm not..." Ryou insisted petulantly, giving her the Dreaded Puppy-dog Look. He knew he sounded like a broken record but at his point he really didn't care. No. Way. She almost melted. Almost. "Well, we have to do something at least, or Kurokaze-san will be breathing down your neck again before you know it." She eyed him critically. "Alright, how 'bout this..." she reached up only to have her target backpedal hastily. "Bakura-kun!" Hana admonished, smiling. "It's not like I carry a bottle of hair dye on me as regular practice." Sheepishly, Ryou returned to his previous position and surrendered to his fate with a dramatic sigh. The white locks were amazingly soft, she noted with wonder, despite the fact that they looked spiky. His hair was cool to the touch and filtered through her fingers as easily as if they weren't quite solid. If only my hair would be so co-operative, she reflected somewhat grouchily.

Ryou fidgeted and Hana fought a blush as she realized how ridiculous she must look; standing in a hallway playing with a student's hair. She hastily drew his hair back against the nape of his neck and looped an elastic around it. Gingerly, Ryou shook his head, unaccustomed to the feeling of his hair gathered all in one spot, and tugged experimentally at at his new ponytail. Having someone at his hair had brought back memories of his mother. //I bet you look stupid,// Bakura groused. There was no "we" implied. His hikari sighed. So much for my mental blockade. Hana, of course, formed an entirely different opinion as Ryou turned to face her examination. White bangs still fell haphazardly over his eyes, and longer locks of hair hung down by his temples, not quite long enough to be trapped by the ponytail. Still, his hair looked a little neater than it had before, even if it did still somehow find a way to spike out of the ponytail. "Kawaii!" she exclaimed with a grin, hands clasped dramatically over her chest. "You'll have to beat the girls off you with a stick now, Bakura-kun," she teased with a mischievous grin. The said student flushed bright, tomato red. "Uh..." Hana laughed, amazed at how sensitive her new student was. "Just teasing, Bakura-kun, really," but her happily twinkling eyes said otherwise. "That should keep Kurokaze-san off your back for a while (can't say the same about the girls). I'll talk to him. I promise." Finally really smiling back, his face still red, Ryou nodded and bowed. "Arigato, Hana-san." "You'll be able to find your dorm without any further trouble, I trust?" "Yes ma'am," Ryou nodded enthusiastically, "Thanks again," and nigh well fled down the hall and out of sight, papers, ponytail and all. Left standing alone in the hall, Hana shook her head. And to think, technically it's not even his first day yet. Chapter 3: Dorm is for Dormir... Not Sometime around 4 am the following morning, Ryou woke up to the sound of fervent pounding. Half-asleep, he groaned, tucking his blanket over his head in an utterly futile attempt to block the sound. BANG!! BANG! BANG!! BANG! "...Crap!" Well, that broke the pattern. His Yami growled, obviously groggy, which his hikari had always found odd. If his Yami was a spirit, why did he need sleep? THUMP! "Stupid hunk of-!" BANG! //Whoever the hell that is...// Bakura slurred, and Ryou found himself waking up in response to the threat in his other's tone. Whoever it was didn't deserve to be sent to the Shadow Realm-

BANG!! THUMP!! "Aw hell!" -Much... Sighing, Ryou rolled slowly out of his surprisingly comfortable bed and ran a hand through his hair. He could only imagine how horrible it looked. He liked his hair, thank you very much, but that didn't stop it from becoming a veritable bird's nest during the night. THUMP! //Grrr...// /I'm going, Yami, I'm going./ Shuffling sleepily to the door, he yelped as he almost tripped over a chair. //Baka...// Finally, he stuck his head out and looked around, squinting as the brightly lit corridor brought tears to his mal-adjusted eyes. Across the hall was a tall redhead, banging his head steadily against the oak wood door of his room. "I don't think that's going to help any more than kicking did," a black haired boy pointed out wryly, dressed in loose sweatpants and a tee, glasses propped up above his forehead. "Damn, damn, damn..." the redhead ignored the advice, each word punctuated by a dull thump as his head hit the wood. "Kanto, you're gonna get brain damage, man," the blonde said lightly, eyes still partially closed as he leaned against the doorframe. Incidentally, he was the first to notice the mass of white hair sticking out of the door in front of him. "Yo, this bastard wake you up too?" Ryou grinned and stepped out into the neon-lit hall, rubbing his eyes. "You could say that." He yawned. "What's going on?" "The idiot locked himself out of his room," Glasses said flatly, whapping Kanto across the back of his head and stopping the other's self-punishment. "Aw! Geez..." "You don't have enough brain cells to spare, Kanto-kun. Just stop." The white haired boy blinked. "What about the office?" "Doesn't open until 6," the third replied, spreading his arms apart in a helpless gesture, blond bangs falling over his eyes. "You're the new kid, right? The one Kurokaze jumped on in the hall?" The hikari blushed and nodded. Ah, the wonders of unwanted fame. "Boku no namae wa Bakura Ryou desu." "My name's Taro," the blonde introduced himself in return. "I live beside Stupid," he jerked his thumb at the middle teen, who was rubbing at the red spot on his forehead. The redhead growled, "My name's Kanzaki Kanto, and if anyone here is stupid, it's you," he retorted, glaring. Taro just smirked. "Saito," glasses introduced himself, stepping across the hallway to shake Ryou's hand. He grinned, "Enjoying your stay at Hokushin?" The hikari smiled weakly and shot a worried glance at the redhead. "It's certainly been... interesting." "Ah crap!" Kanto exclaimed throwing up his arms in frustration and giving his door another good kick.

Ryou winced as the door vibrated, but it still wouldn't budge. "I said you're not doing any good, Kanto-kun," the bespectacled boy retorted. "Besides waking people who were perfectly content to be in bed, if you actually do manage to break down that door, you'll be fined for property damage. You'll just have to wait until the office opens." "That's just great," Kanto drawled bitterly. "I'm not waiting out here that long!" The redhead blinked as an idea hit him and Saito frowned as Kanto turned his gaze on him. The taller boy shot him a pleading look, grinning. "No," was all the bespectacled boy said. Kanto pouted at the refusal and turned, opening his eyes wide in an attempt to look guileless. "Can I stay in your room, Taro-kun?" he said, voice dripping with saccharine. Taro just raised an eyebrow cynically. "Is that a yes?" the redhead asked hopefully, looking to his other friend. "Hell, no," the blonde denied flatly. Ryou's eyebrows threatened to join his hairline as Kanto finally pinned his pleading gaze on him. The redhead just copied his actions, his eyebrows raising as well. Fighting the urge to throw the arms up in the air, the hikari settled for rolling his eyes. "Oh for goodness sake," the white-haired boy exclaimed, exasperated, and turned abruptly back into his darkened room. Returning a few moments later, the hikari ushered the redhead to the side and knelt in front of the offending door. Pulling out a set of wires of varying thickness and shapes out of what appeared to be a wide leather belt, he eyed the lock critically and selected his tools. In layman's terms: it was a lock-pick set. About half a minute later, three boys stood in varying degrees of shock as a click resounded in the hallway. "...The heck?!" Kanto exclaimed, jumping around like a madman as the new student turned the knob and pushed, the door opening with a mocking creak. Taro looked at the transfer as if he was seeing him for the first time. Saito frowned, his glasses having slipped down to their proper place on the bridge of his nose. Try as he might, he couldn't quite keep the incredulity from his voice. "Why didn't you just do that in the first place?" Tucking back his picks into their proper slots, Ryou blinked innocently at the three and smiled his serene smile. "You didn't ask." Chapter 4: Dog days God, I should've gotten a cat, Tomodachi Hanako sighed as she walked along the semideserted streets, Mikon, her dog, pulling her along. Balanced precariously in one arm was a large brown paper bag filled with groceries: the kind you'd see on comedy shows that ripped all too easily and spilled tomato and and egg yolk all over the poor victim's feet. Hana was increasingly disturbed to find that that scenario was far more plausible than she'd like it to be. She was sure she heard something ripping ominously.

Her other hand was latched firmly on the leash of her all too energetic dog. Frankly, it made her wonder who was walking whom. Just to prove her wrong, the said dog was now sitting firmly on the sidewalk, happily sweeping his tail back and forth over the dusty pavement and almost causing a messy accident when his mistress by-passed him and was jerked backwards by her stationary dog. Mikon cocked his head to the side and grinned a doggy grin. "Mou, Mikon!" she cursed, glaring at her dog in frustration. She jerked her head around when she heard an amused sounding cough... Could coughs sound amused? "Would you like some help with that, Hana-san?" someone enquired politely. Turning, she came face to face with a stock of white hair and laughing brown eyes. "Bakura-kun!" she exclaimed, then glared incredulously when Mikon trotted cheerfully over to the boy and started nuzzling a pale, slender hand, begging for attention. She sighed, refusing to let a student see a woman of her age pouting over her dog. "Such a traitor," she groused. "If dogs are man's best friends, then a cat must be a woman's." Ryou laughed melodiously as he kneeled and scratched the dog behind his floppy ears, hazel eyes gentle. Mikon, for his part, had a smug sort of look to him, tongue lolling to the side. Doggy heaven. "Well, it's a first for me, Hana-san. I've never actually been much of a dog person myself," he confessed and once again, Hana had the strange impression of a double meaning to his words. She couldn't quite believe that though. Ryou seemed to be too lovable for his own good: the kind of person that animals would flock to by instinct. He smiled enigmatically. "Where do you live, Hana-san?" "What?" She started at that, a number of unpleasant scenarios running through her head. She knew practically nothing about this student, and while his records remained clean, he had transferred between schools so often it became a little suspicious. And there were some unexplained incidences that the Board had noted"I'm headed back to the school, and I'm assuming you live around there too, right? I can walk you home." He gently eased the leash out of her hand and she automatically balanced the grocery bag into both arms by reflex. "You seem to have your hands full," he noted lightly. She grinned in gratitude, giving herself a mental shake. My but she was getting paranoid in her old age. Living in this part of the city had made her cautious. Bakura-kun had certainly proven himself to be a pacifist by the way he'd handled Kurokaze-san. Granted, he did seem to be a bit of a trouble magnet... Shouldn't jump to conclusions! she berated herself firmly. He's done nothing to deserve your mistrust. Mikon yipped and started dragging him away, the white-haired boy having to dig his heels in to avoid being separated from his school counselor. He was grinning all the way. "I understand your father's in Egypt, Bakura-kun?" Hana asked, for conversation's sake and her own curiosity, walking at a brisk pace to keep up. "Aa..." the transfer agreed, glancing back at her, "He's an archeologist. Papa said a colleague of his had found what they suspect to be directions to a pharaoh's tomb." She could see his lips curving up at the corners. "A bit of a treasure map, so to speak. Papa has high hopes." A pause and he shot her a faux-secretive look. "I think all the Indiana Jones movies have finally gotten to him."

Only years as a counselor kept her from giggling like a school girl when he said that. Indiana Jones, she knew, was a classic gaijin movie featuring an archeologist and some pretty wild adventures. Creepy tombs, crazy cults, that sort of thing. Things that seemed more fiction than fact. "Does he leave often?" "Yes, but I don't mind, really," he hastily defended. "I'm used to being on my own and I know he loves his job. Normally I'd just stay at home on my own when he's away but..." he trailed off, biting his lip and then shrugging. "...I guess Papa's worried, things-" he stole a glace in her direction and laughed. It sounded forced to her ears though, not like the laugh when he'd petted Mikon earlier. Hanako frowned. Now she knew he was hiding something. What had changed and to make James Bakura suddenly decide to send his son to a boarding school? He was worried about... what? She studied the boy walking in front of her. Bakura-kun certainly didn't seem to want to reveal any more. In the light of the setting sun, his hair had taken a reddish-orange hue and his skin was painted a luminescent gold, an acute contrast to his usual paleness. Despite all that, he still seemed remarkably fragile. Like porcelain. She didn't dare push too hard. Not yet. "Did your father give you your pendant, Bakura-kun?" She was surprised when he flinched and her brain started working overtime. She watched as his fingers clutched the item spasmodically. "Yes, my ring. He bought it Egypt. The peddler said it was very ancient," he said mechanically, as if it had been drilled into him. Curiouser and curiouser... she studiously kept her face blank. Ryou stopped suddenly and Hana almost crashed into him, juggling her bag to keep her groceries from toppling onto the floor. "Ah, is this your house, Hana-san?" he asked meekly. Mikon was scratching vigorously at the door while Ryou hesitantly tried to pull him back in case it wasn't the right house. With a start, the brunette realized they were, indeed, already at her house. She'd barely noticed. And she really was getting paranoid. When he'd stopped so suddenly she'd expected the worst. Fumbling sheepishly, she reached for her keys. "Here," Ryou offered, and reached for the grocery bag. As he took it, Hana's sharp eyes caught the flash of discoloration around his wrist. She swallowed as she slid the key into the lock, trying to get a better look with furtive glances while trying not to be too obvious about it. The purple-blue color spread around his wrist and was outlined by an unhealthy green. They branched off into four adjacent lines around the outside of his arm. Finger marks, she realized with growing horror. He'd been bruised. Deliberately. Recently. She tried to catch his eyes as she reached for her bag again, Mikon running by her legs and into the darkened house when the teen released his hold on the leash, but they were purposely hooded.

"Thank you, Bakura-kun." "Iie, you're perfectly welcome, Hana-san." He bowed and turned to leave, his long sleeves covering his wrist. She couldn't just leave it at that! "Bakura-kun!" she called and then flustered for something to say when he looked back inquiringly. "If you ever want to talk..." she offered. He smiled knowingly. "Arigato, Hana-san." His tone carried a gentle finality. Shadows played over his retreating figure as the street lights flickered on, and as she closed the door, Tomodachi Hanako was disturbed by the distinct impression that the whitehaired teen would never deliberately take her up on that offer. Chapter 5: Once a Thief... Bakura growled as he shoved his way through the crowded street. He had not had a good day. Sure, Ryou's first day of school had gone remarkably well so far. Although there was a constant murmur of gossip in his other's presence, everyone had more or less left him alone, and when they didn't his hikari had beat a polite, but hasty retreat. So, it was just your typical, everyday, ordinary day at school... Ryou style. Boring. Basically, that made for a very grumpy Yami. He'd wrestled control from his other sometime during lunch and was now wandering aimlessly through Tokyo's loud and crowded shopping district, doing what he did best. "Oi! Watch it, gaki!" a well dressed businessman glared venomously when Bakura plowed into him, his demeanor arrogant and superior. If anyone had been watching, they would've agreed that Bakura did look a little raggedy, dressed in a ripped trench coat and faded jeans, but as it were, no one cared to watch. "Sorry," Bakura's apologetic smile looked more like a carnal grin and the nameless businessman flinched. 'Humph'-ing as he tried to regain his composure, he quickly marched away. That brat had the most disturbing, feral red eyes. He knew he should've just called in sick today! Bakura just grinned wider, not sparing the man a second glance, and moved leisurely along as he discretely tucked the man's thick wallet in one of his pockets. At least the day wouldn't be a total waste. He wasn't of the opinion that the rich and suit-wearing were evil, money grubbing scrooges who took advantage of the poor. He simply stole because he enjoyed it, and perhaps because it had become a bit of a habit. Whenever he went out, his eyes always sought out possible victims automatically, and plans flashed in his head mere instants after his target was selected. Call it therapeutic. The fact that it made him rich was just an added bonus at this point. Ryou wasn't exactly poor. Though you'd never know, the dark mused, With the clothes he chooses to wear.

His hikari had the annoying habit of trying to make himself as discrete and mundane as possible. Instead, that tended to broadcast "Hit me, I'm helpless!" to everything within a ten meter radius. Bakura frowned. Then again, most of the people of this day and age were disgustingly pampered. Stealing from them was almost too easy. Without the stupid Pharaoh around he'd been itching for a decent challengeHis eyes flickered as he caught sight of a stout woman, wearing expensive, professionally cut jewelry. That showed promise. Stealing something that was out in plain view would be harder, more noticeable if he screwed it up, and jewelry was easily identified if it was found... Shrugging casually, the Spirit of the Ring slid closer to his target and grinned. Beggars can't be choosers. /I can't believe you did that!/ Ryou moaned. //What?// his yami growled in annoyance. Ryou had barely made it back in time for his afternoon classes, throwing on his uniform in a mad rush. It was, however, more than a bit disturbing to find stolen jewelry in your pockets after one of your yami's unexpected excursions. Money, he could handle. His yami usually stashed that somewhere before he relinquished control anyway, but jewelry? What was he supposed to say, 'Yes, I got this from my very rich, very confused and slightly tipsy millionaire of an uncle'? He could feel his yami shrug mentally, sensing the hikari's fears. //Then stop whining and hurry up and get to Jade's!// /Why don't you take over?/ Ryou put in. This was one of the few situations that he would gladly surrender to his other, and although it was true that his yami would probably cause more deliberate trouble... Better him than me. //Nope,// his yami smirked and Ryou cringed internally. He was going to regret this. Shifting his feet nervously and glancing around the darkened alley the hikari sighed resignedly. Tugging frustratedly at his ponytail, Ryou knocked resultantly on the back door of The Jade Concubine and waited. The metal window slid open and curious blue eyes peered out. Ryou stuffed his hands into his pockets, feeling for all the world like a gangster in an old movie. A horribly, disastrously inept gangster walking in on the police department's timehonored doughnut party... "Un... konbanwa... M-may I speak to Jade-san, please?" At least there were no cheesy passwords. "Ryyyouuu-chan!" a voice from farther within called. "Kimi, let him in!" Ryou squashed the urge to run really fast, really far in the other direction and, against his better judgment, stepped into the smoky interior, smiling a nervous thanks to the girl behind the door. The atmosphere was already making his eyes water and his nose itch. Walking past her, he ducked under the curtains to come face to...... breasts of a very tall, curvaceous redhead. "Gyaah!" She smiled in amusement as he backpedaled hastily, spluttering incoherent apologies as he bowed, turning several prominent shades of red in the process.

In the back of his head, Yami Bakura was howling his lungs out in his soul room, clutching his sides in helpless laughter. Jade Zwan patted the teen's cheek with a painted and well manicured hand. "Honestly, Ryou-chan, it's fine. I've had worse." That just set him off on a whole new stuttering streak and the redhead laughed. He was so cute when he was embarrassed. Deciding to take pity on the poor boy, she dragged him over to a couch and set him down in it, offering the teen a drink which he refused with a shake of his head. "I'm underage, Jade-san," he murmured in his usual quiet tone, although he still looked jumpy. The lady smiled at the irony of the situation. Here he was, talking to a purveyor of a disreputable business, who often dealt with things less than legal, and he was refusing alcohol because he was underage? Go figure. Her eyes lingered a little too long on his wrist though. With a weak smile, Ryou bent his arms in such a way that his coat sleeve fell to conceal his bruise again. He was getting careless. Bakura was hissing in annoyance in the back of his head. //Twice!// he ranted. Smoothing out her features, Jade shrugged. It wasn't any of her business. Bruises weren't all that uncommon in the underground. Neither were cuts, black eyes, broken bones... "So," she started, taking the cushy armchair across from him, fussing over her low-cut, side-slit dress, "business or pleasure?" "Business!" Ryou replied hastily, still red, but he didn't miss the teasing quality of Jade's vivid green eyes as she mock pouted. He wasn't so naive that he couldn't catch exactly what 'pleasure' meant. "Pity. What've you got for me tonight, Ryou-chan?" she asked easily as she sipped her drink. Choking down his mortification, the white-haired teen pulled out a black pouch and upended its contents onto the table between them. Jades eyebrows rose. "Aw, Ryou-chan, you shouldn't have," she smiled and picked up the necklace. Eyeing it critically in the light, she waved for a girl to bring over an eyeglass. Her smile only widened as she examined it closer. "My, Ryou-chan, you do have an eye for these things-" Bakura preened in his soul room. "-Where'd you get this?" Ryou shifted uncomfortably as he kicked futilely at the door to his other's soul room. "Un... picked it up off the streets, Jade-san," he muttered shyly. Jade laughed in understanding and that just made Ryou all the more contrite. He so shouldn't be doing this... again. But then what? Hello, officer, this little diamond necklace mysteriously materialized in my pocket today. Nope, no idea exactly how it got there, but I think my kleptomaniac darker half had something to do with it. Think you can find the owner? Ryou mused. What do you mean, 'jail or asylum'? But then, Bakura would be out and in control before he could get within a mile of any authority... of either sort. "30000 yen." "30000?!" Bakura spluttered as Ryou was unexpectedly torn from control, eyes deepening from hazel to red as the millennium ring flickered ominously. Thrown abruptly into

his soul room, Ryou didn't know whether to sing for joy or duck for cover. "It's worth 80000 at least!" Unsurprised, the redhead leaned over, revealing a fair amount of cleavage. Ryou didn't come too often, but she knew him well enough to expect mood swings. It was strange; he'd be shy and polite, almost painfully so one instant, and then the next he would be gruff and fierce. He was extremely alluring in both moods though, and either way, he had never been anything but respectful to her and the other girls. Grouchy on occasion, but never disrespectful... easy on the eyes too. "Don't over-judge your worth, Ryou-chan," she murmured huskily. "I never over-judge anything," Bakura growled, completely unruffled. "You're underestimating me." She shrugged, thick, black lashes hooding her eyes. "40000 yen." Bakura's eye twitched. "70000." Jade frowned. "45000 yen." "60000!" "...50000." Bloody red eyes bored into her as he glared. "...Fine!" Bakura finally snarled, arms crossed. Jade's answering smile was radiant. "Don't pout at me, Ryou-chan. You're adorable enough as it is." She tilted her head to the side. "I love the ponytail!" "I don't pout," the spirit groused in a deep, rough voice, leaning back against the couch as Jade handed the necklace to one of the girls for safekeeping. His eyes were narrowed in annoyance. She just smiled back at him with an ironic look. "Pleasure doing business with you, Ryou-chan." "I'm sure," Bakura replied sardonically as he stood, accepting the money from one of the girls, a pretty Asian with dark black hair and blue eyes. The door girl, he realized. Kimi was her name? An eyebrow arched as she winked at him, hips swaying suggestively as she walked by. Ryou was so red in his soul room, Bakura wondered if it was possible to spontaneously combust in spirit form. Eyes sparkling with dark humor at his hikari's obvious embarrassment, he reached out, took Jade's slender hand in his own and kissed it lightly, ignoring the giggles of the other girls around the room. "Ja matta, Jade-san," he smirked as he straightened. "Ja matta," she replied fondly, eyes trailing him as he stepped out of the room, and sighing when she heard the gentle click of the door closing. She missed him already. Pity he never stayed for long, he was one of the few decent men that came through her door. She'd tried to have one of her girls tail him once in the early days, since she didn't like dealing with unknowns... but he'd lost her in under a minute and had a smug grin plastered on his face the very next visit. The bastard. From the far side of the room a startled gasp resounded and all the girls crowded, tittering around Kimi, who was digging around the side-pocket of her dress. Silence reigned with heavy anticipation as she finally pulled out... 50000 yen.

How? When? Had he...? Kimi looked dazed, her blue eyes wide and her mouth curved into a silent "o" of astonishment. Jade shook her head as the girls squealed in excitement and jealousy, reaching out to finger the money disbelievingly. Hell, that boy was as unpredictable as the weather. Just when you thought you could predict his every move... He did it all just for the game... Her lips curved to smile wryly in the direction of the unseen door through which the white-haired thief had left. Men! Bakura stepped out onto the street, the collar of his coat turned up to protect against the chill. His hikari was quiet in his soul room, but that suited him just fine. It was almost familiar this way, even if the setting was totally different. The blanket of night was like a soothing balm in comparison to Ryou's busy, modern life. He honestly missed those quiet, dry Egyptian nights. He was barely on school grounds however, when his attention was diverted rather violently. CRASH! Muffled swearing, followed by jeering laughter. Eyebrows arching, the spirit of the ring slid closer to the source of the ruckus, ignoring the restless stirring of his hikari. //Shut up. This could be interesting.// /You haven't had enough of 'interesting' for the day?/ Ryou asked incredulously, apprehension leaking through their link. With a growl, the spirit slammed a barrier on their connection. Voices raised threateningly in argument became clearer as he prowled closer. The yami made sure to stay close to the shadows. It wouldn't do to run headlong into an unknown situation, after all. His experiences as a tomb raider had thought him more than his fair share of discretion and stealth. Anything else would've been hazardous to his health. "You can't do this!" "Watch me, old man... and don't even think about it. You think I won't make good-?" "Dammit, please-!" The Egyptian's eyes narrowed. That voice sounded familiar. Actually... both of them did. He cocked his head to the side in thought, trying to conjure a face to match the voices. Back pressed against a graffiti coated wall, he peered cautiously around a corner. Kurokaze stood with his back against a chain-link fence, surrounded by a semi-circle of burly thugs. On a crate, a blonde man wearing a bandana lounged haughtily, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands. "I really thought you were smarter than that, Kurokaze." "Keith-!" The elder man was cut off when the blonde jumped up and pinned him against the fence with a muffled rattle. "Never say my name, you got that? You don't know me," he growled, dark shades slipping down his nose to reveal piercing blue eyes. "Got that?!" The groundskeeper coughed. "Yeah." "Good," the burly blonde's smile was deceptively easygoing as he let go and stepped back, turning on his heel. Motioning to the others, he sauntered away, leaving the elder man in a

heap on the ground. He pushed up his shades. "Don't call us," he said casually, waving, one hand in his pocket, "We'll call you." Red eyes narrowing malevolently, Bakura smirked in the shadows. Well, well, well... What do we have here... "Boss! There's someone there!" Kurokaze snapped his head up as the gangsters spread out, searching, just in time to catch a flash of white before it vanished into shadows. The groundskeeper's breathing was irregular with fear. Someone was there? Sneering at the fallen man with disgust, Keith made a placating motion to his boys. "Leave it," he smirked, eyes glinting darkly behind his shades. "I already know all I need to know." Chapter 6: Meet the Gang "Dammit, where the hell is this guy?! How hard can it be to spot a bloody albino? It's not like he can blend." Ryou held his breath as he perched on a ledge above his pursuers. Idly he counted heads. Well, at least he'd lost a few of them along the way. There used to be 14 of them after him. Now there were only 8. I wonder why people never look up? He smiled slightly. "Shut up and keep looking," he heard a breathless voice command, "I know he's here somewhere. Boss'll have our hides if he gets away again." They'd been waiting for him at the school, hoping for a quick ambush. Keith had a long memory for those he had a grudge on and Bakura easily made it into his "top ten" hit list. Now these people knew his name and, to an extent, where he lived. So, instead, he'd lead them on a merry chase half way across the city, ducking and dodging his many followers through countless alleys"There he is!" one of them cried and the rest scrambled forward, desperation driving them. Crud. The hikari dodged the hands that grabbed for his ankles and hastily jumped for the next ledge up, scrambling clumsily. "Get down here, you little white-haired, wall-climbing freak!" Hoboshi yelled in an "intimidating" voice, jumping up and down like a demented kangaroo. They'd been chasing this punk for more than an hour and he was pissed, dammit! Wall-climbing...? That's the best he can do? Despite his apprehension, Ryou didn't even bother to hide his amusement. It was all that kept him going in times like these. "Why would I do that?" he called down with all the innocence Hikaris were so well known for. He resisted the urge to kick his legs impudently. He wouldn't go that far. He flushed as the gang below him cursed crudely, making assumptions about his birth and heritage. Some of them were finally making their way up fire escapes in an attempt to reach him, clomping up the metal steps loudly enough to wake the dead. Ryou shuffled nervously, eyeing possible escape routes. The window was broken, so he could easily get inside if he wanted to, but what if they had the exits blocked off? He turned his attention back to the present as a glint of mental caught his eye. One of them had actually made it onto the ledge and was now shuffling warily towards him, knife in

hand. Ryou crept backwards and drew a deep breath, wishing for a hundredth time that his yami had a little more care about what happened to his hikari. Contrary to popular belief he had actually picked up a couple of things from his yami, considering the number of times his other had left him to fend for himself in "awkward" situations, but he still felt grossly inadequate. He eyed the other teen warily, trying to calm his heart rate. When the other moved close enough, the hikari grabbed the extended wrist and twisted, plucking the knife out of the teen's calloused fingers even as the other lost his balance, yelling and waving his arms. Mourou gasped as the white-haired boy held him by the sleeve of his jacket, the other holding the open window frame for balance. A trickle of blood ran down from the transfer student's palm, where broken glass bit into his skin, but he was oblivious. They were only three stories high, but if he fell like this... His own toes touched the ledge in a futile gesture as he dangled with nothing but air behind his back. Mourou's breath caught in his throat. How the hell could a skinny wimp like that hold him up for long? He was going to fall! He struggled, waving his arms as he tried to make his way back up on his own feet, panic flashing through his eyes as fabric ripped ominously. "Stop." The command was simple. Mourou starred into the eyes of his prey-turned-captor, listening to the quick, strained breaths that the white-haired teen drew, not that different from his own. The deep brown irises were clouded in concentration and he thought he could see flicker of worry in those wide, guileless eyes. The hell? This kid honestly didn't want him to fall! "Stop moving," the same soft, breathy voice urged again and Mourou found himself obeying implicitly, although he still remained tense. Letting out a short breath, Ryou strained to keep hold of the much larger teen. The blood was making his hand slippery and he was losing his grip on the already fragile window frame. He grit his teeth. Fast! Now! Pulling the frightened gang member forward in a swift movement that belied his slender frame, Ryou let the momentum carry the larger teen through the open window to land in a heap on the dusty interior floor. He sighed and stumbled slightly, dropping into a crouch, watching the other teen huddle on the floor for a moment before the cries of the rest of the gang snapped him back to reality. He did not spend over an hour running around Tokyo to get caught now. "Thanks for the knife," Ryou said sheepishly to the figure on the floor, slipping the procured item somewhere into his coat. "But I really must be going," he whispered, half to himself and half to his audience. Mourou looked back at the white-haired teen in disbelief. What was all he could say? 'I really must be going', like he was excusing himself from a tea party instead of trying to escape street thugs after his blood! His face dropped into and unreadable expression as weighed the pros and cons in his mind. Then pressing his lips into a thin line, he growled and jerked his thumb to the gaping doorframe behind him. "Get out." He only scowled as the white-haired teen smiled his thanks and slipped hurriedly out the door, listening closely for the footsteps of his pursuers. As the large teenager sat there on the dusty floor and gathered his breath, he tried to forget the last kind, knowing look that his savior had shot him before he made his escape. He shut his eyes.

Damn him! Mourou thought with a frustrated growl as he stood and made his way down the rickety staircase. At the bottom floor, Ryou peered cautiously out the exit and eyed the group of people hovering under the ledge. They couldn't be that dense, could they? Cautiously pushing the door wider, Ryou glanced one more time at the gang and then dashed in the opposite direction. At this point all he wanted to do was get out of here and catch a couple hours sleep before classes. Unfortunately, he didn't make it very far. About three steps down, he was grabbed by the hair from behind, causing him to yelp. "There you are," Hoboshi sneered as his captive struggled to loosen his grip on the pure white strands. Ryou winced. What is it about my hair that compels people to pull it?! That's the second time in four days! He shut his eyes forlornly as the rest of the gang converged on him and cried out in protest as he was shoved roughly face first into a wall, his arms quickly twisted and bound behind his back with a length of rope. "I spent too long a time chasing after you, bastard," Hoboshi hissed into his ear, spinning the transfer student around. "I hate wasting my time." Ryou gasped soundlessly as a fist was slammed into his stomach, locking his knees on instinct to keep from falling. He choked down a moan and drew a deep, shuddering breath, ignoring his body's protests as he fought to clear his head. Then he staggered as his knees were hit with a long metal pole. They were trying to drive him down, but his couldn't fall. Not now. Once he was on his knees he'd be helpless. He had to find a way out of this. He had to. Tentatively, he reached out for his yami, but he was greeted, as usual, with a closed door. He bit his lip. Amazingly enough, however, the answer presented itself out of the mouths of his captors. "This is the guy?" he heard a voice say disbelievingly as he kept his head bowed, white bangs covering his eyes and he fought to regulate his breathing. "Looks even punier up close," another sneered and Ryou winced quietly as he was poked in the side with the metal pole. "I dunno, guys. Keith said we should be careful. No normal guy could lead us around for over an hour..." "Are you kidding? That was probably just a fluke." "I'm telling you, he's just playing with us!" someone whispered urgently. "Look at that hair! It's-" "So the guy had a little bleaching incident..." "No, really, didn't you hear about Battle City? There were these really freaky people running around and I'm sure one of them was white-haired." "The guy that could control minds?" "There was no guy that could control minds. That was just a rumour. Are you gullible or just really stupid?" "Hey, I had a friend who said they saw some weirdoes in black robes at that thing. Blood sacrifice-" "Sacrifice?!" "Yeah, some guy got killed..." Cautiously, Ryou peeked up through his bangs. He was surrounded, but now the teens were starting to shift around nervously, giving him sidelong looks. This... could be useful.

"Will you guys quit it!?" Hoboshi growled in annoyance. "This punk is nothing! Look, he'd tied up and helpless. What are you wimps worried about?!" Blinking, Ryou dropped a shoulder slightly. The tied up thing could be a problem, but it was one that could be remedied easily enough. Silently, he prayed to whatever gods were willing to listen and hoped that his captors would continue talking. He needed to buy time. Carefully, he tugged his recently acquired knife out of his sleeve, careful to keep the glint of the blade hidden from view as he worked on the ropes. This idea was so crazy it just might work. Ok, I can work with this. Deep breath. Be intimidating... Straightening against the wall, head still bowed, Ryou let out a low, ominous laugh, trying his hardest to imitate his yami. "Foolish mortals!" he snapped his head up and graced them with a surprisingly convincing maniacal grin and almost lost it when a few of them jumped back at the sound of his voice. He narrowed his eyes as he slowly pinned his gaze on each member in turn, using the shadows of the alley to his best advantage. "You have no idea who you're dealing with. Release me," he boomed in low, gravelly voice. Apparently it wasn't all that bad an imitation of Bakura, even if it was a trifle over-done. One of them actually squeaked. Don't laugh don't laugh don't laugh don't laugh- he thought tiredly, trying not to blow his act. How the heck does yami do this without laughing?! "H-hoboshi, man, maybe we should..." "No, are you crazy!" Hoboshi growled, waving his arms. "He's just a freakin' con-artist. He's trying to psych you out." "Well if that's an act, it's working pretty well," someone mumbled from the back. More nervous shuffling. "Boss, didn't you see he way he flew up those ledges?" 'Flew up?' Ryou wheezed in amusement. His stomach still hurt. I seem to remember 'desperately scrambling up' more like. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryou could see the teen he had saved listening closely from the outer edge of the circle. His eyebrows rose as Mourou gave him a meaningful look and jerked his head, encouraging him to continue the act. Was he trying to help? Turning his eyes forward, Ryou plastered a smirk across his face and hoped it didn't look too contrived. Don't. Laugh. Think Malik. "You underestimate me," Ryou drawled, keeping up his psycho-villain facade, trying to recall the fuzzy memories of the annotations of Malik's voice. "You have no idea of the type of powers I posses. How can you be so sure that I don't have you exactly where I want you? How do you know I'm not burrowing through your mind right now, reading your every thought... controlling your every move... In the end you're nothing but puppets. Instruments for my amusement." Ok, now I'm Pegasus and Malik all rolled into one... Good grief. "He is the mind controlling one!" someone yelled in horror. It was all Ryou could do from breaking into hysterics right then and there. They actually bought that? Panic surged and a few of them looked ready to bolt. Only Hoboshi stood firm, yelling at the others to get a grip.

"He's lying, you idiots!" Deep voice... Throwing back his head, Ryou laughed (and thankfully they didn't notice the hysterical edge in it) as he worked off the last of the ropes and concealed the knife again. "Don't believe me?" Casually, slowly, he pulled his wrists apart, bringing them around to the front and making as show of rubbing his wrists. "Well, my minion, why don't you be a good little mind-controlled slave and show these fools just how wrong they are." Taking his cue with more finesse than he had thought possible, Mourou reached out to the nearest gang member with a loud, monotonous "Yes master." That was the last straw. "God, he's loose! How the hell did he get loose?!" "He'd got Mourou! He'll get us next!" "I'm outta here, man!" Running blindly, the gang beat it out of the alley in record time, Hoboshi trailing them and yelling at them for being spineless cowards, but showing no intention of facing the "psycho mind-controlling freak" on his own. Blinking and smiling, Ryou slid tiredly down the wall and wrapped his arms around his aching stomach, trying to ignore his blurring vision. That... was... really weird. With an odd sigh/giggle hybrid, shut his eyes halfway. Hah, take that, mou hitori no boku (my other self). You're not the only one who can be a cheesy maniacal villain! His train of thought was abruptly interupted when Mourou grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to look up. The larger teen narrowed his eyes. "If you ever call me 'minion' again, I will personally kick your scrawny little ass from here to Timbuktu, got that?" Nodding painfully, Ryou exhaled heavily as he was released. "Good," Mourou affirmed as he sat down beside his odd companion, studying the other boy closely. Ryou was pale and visibly tired, the only colour on him was the vivid smear of red on his palm, but he was obviously not afraid. Mourou had to wonder if he'd been in these kinds of situations before. What a thought. With a flick of his wrist, Ryou had the knife in his hand again and offered it hilt-first to its rightful owner. "Here's your knife back... Um, thanks. It came in handy." Shaking his head in amusement (and wondering exactly how the other boy had kept the knife up his sleeve), Mourou pushed it back. "Nah, you keep it. Seems to be of more use to you than it is to me." He smirked. "Ore wa Mourou Takashi desu." (I'm Mourou Takashi) "Ryou Bakura, yoroshiku." (Ryou Bakura, 'please remember me'/pleased to meet you) He offered his right hand but then seemed to realize for the first time that it was covered with blood. "Umm..." Mourou just laughed loud and long. In his soul room, Bakura watched silently, face tinted an interesting shade of red as he teetered between gut-busting amusement and righteous fury. He was not a cheesy maniacal villain, dammit.

I mean, sure, Pegasus was a weak, annoying, deluded fool, and Malik... He blinked repeatedly for a moment, and then smirked widely, white teeth glimmering in the darkness. Ra, if Malik ever got wind of this, he would never live it down. Half way around the world, a few moments before, Malik eyed his sister apprehensively as she suddenly broke out laughing, fingers brushing the millennium tauk. "Isis?" he asked warily, but she only waved him away and hastily ran out of the room, giggling uncharacteristically. Arching an eyebrow, the remaining Ishtar turned to face a stoic Rashid. "I've known her my whole life, and I still can't understand her." Perched on the table, the large man nodded solemnly as he polished the contents of a display case. "As with all women, I find it's just better not to try," his foster brother advised dryly. Out in the hall, they could still hear Isis' fading laughter. Malik nodded sagely. "Indeed." Ryou sighed as he surveyed the scene in front of him. Tokyo was beautiful at night, and although he wasn't on the tallest building by any means, he was far enough up to feel distanced from the rest of the world. It was like nothing could touch him here. It was almost... peaceful. Mourou and he had parted ways after the taller boy had made it clear that they were now even, and refused to tell him anything else. That didn't bother him too much. What did bother him, though, was that his yami had apparently locked himself in his soul room after a night of questionable activities and that he'd so thoughtfully left his hikari to fend for himself against shady characters without so much as a reason as to why they were after him. His muscles ached from the chase, and from his little heroic stunt at the ledge. He winced as he fingered the superficial cut on his palm and hastily wrapped a handkerchief around the sluggishly bleeding wound. How was he supposed to hide that?! Hand wounds didn't exactly heal very quickly. At least he was ambidextrous, so it wouldn't affect his writing at school, but his stomach still hurt and his knees felt wobbly. But to top it all off, he was undoubtedly and hopelessly lost. He sighed tiredly and set about finding the fire escape, pinching the bridge of his nose. It would be daylight in a few hours and he didn't want to be late for school. Maybe if he was lucky he'd be able to stay awake until lunch... Stepping down the metal stairs as quietly as possible, Ryou rubbed his eyes, trying to identify the nondescript alley. Limping forward, he stumbled on some cans and winced at the noise, taking in his surroundings. It was pretty much the same as every other damp, dark, dirty alley in Tokyo. Turning with the intention of leaving and finding a main street, Ryou stumbled back as he crashed into something large, and his eyes widened in fear and surprise. He swallowed as he took in the uniform and the hard blue eyes. "I don't suppose you'd care to explain what you're doing out here so early? I'm pretty sure that's not normal teen behavior," the policeman drawled, arching an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest. In the darkness, his badge glinted coldly on his belt. Ryou winced. Oh heck.

Chapter 7 - Feint a Faint The cop frowned as he assessed the boy in front of him with cold detachment. The night had been hectic enough when he'd run across the panicking Machines, one of the local gangs. Now if the information he'd managed to piece together from their ramblings were accurate, he was standing face to face with none other than the source of their fear, and something that could spook one of the meanest gangs around was nothing to sneeze at. In reality however, our resident white-haired terror's thought patterns pretty much consisted of: Oh bad ohbadohbadohbadohbad! The cop was bound to ask questions, and there were just some questions he wouldn't... couldn't answer. Having dressed to impress Jade-san and her girls as per Bakura's orders, Ryou fell a few steps short of his usual "respectable" and landed somewhere closer to the "young mafia" category. Somewhere along the way, Ryou had lost his hair band, and now his snowy white locks fell around his shoulders in disarray, framing his equally pale face. Given the moonlight and the steady cloud of steam rising from the grates, dark trench coat and pale skin, the hikari looked more like an apparition than a human. If he didn't know any better, the old policeman would've thought he was facing a ghost, or maybe even a vampire. The boy's stature held a natural grace that could well be dangerous. Either that or the kid was one hell of an actor because the instant he blinked, the image was gone and was replaced by the image of an ordinary, exhausted, faltering teen, barely managing to stay on his feet. "Well?" the officer growled, keeping his face carefully blank. Ryou smiled weakly and did the only thing he could think of to get out of this without further bodily harm, gruelling interrogation or possible arrest... He fainted. And somewhere in the back of his mind, someone stirred... To say that Shimoda Anoshi was less than pleased when he suddenly found himself with an armful of unconscious, suspicious teenager would be an understatement. In all his years as a cop, this one had to take the cake. "Well, how 'bout a name? Heck, it doesn't even have to be your name. Right now I'd settle for the name of your barber," Shimoda grumbled exasperatedly at the white-crowned head, but his words were left unanswered. "That's just peachy..." Grumbling, the veteran cop shifted the boy onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry and stalked out of the alley towards his car and his curious partner, who stood when he heard his superior approaching. Arching an eyebrow, the bright-eyed rookie cop quickly took in the boy's appearance and quickly matching it to the descriptions of the their last run-in with The Machines, he smirked. "Found our psycho mind-controller, eh?" A grunt. "What happened?" Another grunt and the rookie rolled his eyes.

"Well, maybe after turning his mind-blowing powers on the unsuspecting Underground, taking over every illicit business in the area and becoming filthy stinking rich, his super brain decided to short circuit and leave him wandering through the city like a dribbling, soul-less zombie?" Shimoda shot him a look to kill but the younger partner, having long since developed a resistance to such glares, only smiled and said, "What part of that theory didn't you like?" "The part where you were talking," came the low growl. Opening the passenger door and setting the boy into the seat, Shimoda's hard face softened a miniscule amount when he regarded the teen's slightly scratched profile. Looks like he got roughed up a bit. "Did you get a name?" "No," Shimoda groused searching through the boy's trenchcoat for anything that might ID him. "He fainted on me before I could get any answers." "Not surprised..." the young man whispered to himself. "What was that?" "Nothing, Boss." A beaming smile. Shimoda rolled his eyes. Awfully convenient time to fall sleep, the veteran cop mused with a hint of disgust. But I guess the poor guy really is exhausted. Wonder how long he'd been running before the Machines caught him? He'd get his answers eventually. No one withheld information from Shimoda Anoshi. After a few moments of digging and disappointment, Shimoda finally pulled something out of a pocket and handed it to his partner, who examined it in turn. The rookie took the pencil and stared at the engravings. "Hokushin High School?" The older man nodded. "I'll take him there." "Just you?" the younger asked. "Your shift is over, rookie. Go get some sleep." A laugh. "Who sleeps anymore?" "Faine..." "Yeah yeah..." "Ride?" "Nah, I'll walk. S'not far and there's no way I'm riding in the back. Y'know there's a lose spring that digs right up-" "Goodnight, Faine." Shimoda slid into the driver's seat slammed the door shut, muffling whatever else his boisterous young partner had to say. Waving pointedly, he arched an eyebrow and drove away, too preoccupied to notice the slight twitch of the lips his sole passenger had developed. After about 15 minutes of silent driving, the cop pulled up by the school and eyed the "sleeping" teen, almost hating to wake him. The white-haired boy looked so young with his hair falling around this face, but his mind still nagged him. The more angelic they look while they sleep, the more hellish they are when awake. A flicker of movement caught his attention to the left and he turned just in time to catch sight of a figure walking towards him, dog in tow. "Shimoda-san?" the figure called out. Stepping out of the car, Shimoda stood and graced the early-riser with a very rare smile.

"Ohayou, Hana-san," he greeted smirking slightly as he took in her slightly bedraggled appearance. "You're out early today." "Not by choice," the woman groused tugging the leash that was connected to a perfectly innocent looking dog. Shimoda snickered quietly and bent down to pet the troublesome dog fondly. "That' a boy, Mikon. You keep her on her toes." "Mou, Shimoda-san!" Hanako glared, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "What about you? I didn't think you patrolled this area during the pre-dawn shift." The cop shrugged. "I don't. I'm just returning something that was lost." "What?" Hana blinked in confusion, turning up the collar of her coat against a sudden chill. Jerking a thumb, he gestured to the inside of his car. "Found him wandering down an alley. I think he's one of yours." "Oh?" Hana peered curiously into the car, paused, and blinked again. "Shimoda-san," she drawled, "Have you had your morning coffee yet?" "No, why?" Straightening Hana levelled an eyebrow at him, ignoring the fact that Mikon was running circles around her and winding his leash around her legs. "'Cause there's no one in your car." A beat. "-WHAT?!" Ducking down, the cop glared into the window and stared wide-eyed at the empty seat. There wasn't even a depression in the worn, black leather to show that there had ever been anyone sitting there at all. Growling, Shimoda strode over to the passenger side and wrenched open the door, searching through his car with growing disbelief. "I swear, Hanako, he was here!" In his haste, he'd forgotten to address her properly and fell back to using her first name. "Kid about 15-16 years old, roughly 5 foot 8, white hair and brown eyes like a doe that could knock Bambi off his feet faster than a freight train." Hana frowned. "White hair?" she repeated distantly. Shimoda immediately pinned his sharp eyes on her. "Know him?" "I think so... But... He-He's very polite and quiet and I can't even begin to imagine him running around dark alleys..." The cop fixed her with a long, grim stare that made Hana want to cower, but having worked for 10 years as a teacher/counsellor, she'd had her share of glares thrown her way. "It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for, Hana-san. You should know that by now." "W-well..." she stuttered, trying to regain her composure. Bakura-kun? Dangerous? It didn't fit... but then... it did. "Keep an eye on him, Hana-san," Shimoda frowned. "He's good. I can't think of many people who can sneak out of a cop's car unnoticed, and he managed to scare the wits out of the Machines tonight." Hana started. The Machines weren't scared of anything! They were one of the toughest gangs around! "He did?" she asked, voice rising in amazement.

The cop nodded, frowning. "So keep an eye on him," he repeated earnestly. "This kid had a cut or something on his right palm. Look for it the next time you run across your quiet kid... and you know my number." With a last distinctly disgruntled look, the cop brushed his way past her and slid into his car, giving her an absent-minded wave before driving off, a glower etched firmly into his face. Mikon whined as he sat at his mistress' feet, sensing her distress. My, what a tangled web we weave... Sighing, she headed back towards her house to get ready for the day... and promptly stumbled over the leash wound around her legs. "MOU! Mikon!" Bakura, meanwhile, watched silently from around the corner, lips quirked in a smirk as he lounged against the rough brick wall. Too easy... He turned his attention to Hanako as she and her dog shuffled off, deep in thought. That woman was far too nosy, and she had the tendency to pop up at just the wrong times... or right times, depending on your point of view. He grunted in disgust. Something might have to be done about her, the yami's eyes narrowed, glinting in the murky pre-dawn darkness. Turning away, the spirit glided across the concrete courts towards the dorms, deftly climbing up the drainpipe. Although it was true that he and his hikari shared the same body, it always seemed to perform better when he was in control. Maybe it was a mind thing. He was pretty sure the same could be said for the Pharaoh and the Shrimp. Hoping onto the slim ledge of his window, he pushed the glass open, having left it unlocked before he left, and slid inside, sprawling lazily across the bed and ignoring the twinge as his stomach protested. Idly he stared at the red smeared handkerchief wrapped around his palm, lost in thought. What exactly was going on between Keith and Kurokaze? He didn't much care, except for the possibility of blackmail, but his intuition was screaming that this was something bigger. Keith, whether he was aware of it or not, was usually just another pawn, dancing to the tune of a master puppeteer. He sneered, clenching his hand tightly and drawing new blood. Perhaps it was worth looking into... But... first... //Oi!!! Baka!// the yami cried, kicking roughly at his other's soul room. /Mmh?/ Ryou started abruptly awake, taking in his surroundings and relaxing when he realized that there wasn't a cop in sight. Wait, rewind, the transfer student's mind ordered groggily. No cop. Mou hitori no boku awake...... That's not good! /What happened?/ the lighter half slurred with a slightly panicked edge in his voice, wincing as he flopped over onto his back. //Man Eater Bug has a new chew toy. Choked on the badge though,// came the very, very dry reply. /That's goo- WHAT?!/ Ryou shrieked as his voice hit the higher registers, bolting up on the bed. His yami had said it with such unwavering surety that he had to do a double-take. /Tell me you didn't send a cop to the Shadow Realm! That's... t-that's.../

Ryou got the impression of his yami with a cat-like grin spread across his face... far to much like a cat that had just swallowed a canary. //Isn't it? Although I'm sure there's a law for the Protection Of Shadow Monsters Against Indigestion Due To-// /Yami!/ //Or we could always say Man Eater Bug merely chewed in self-defence...// drawled his other almost conspiratorially, radiating dark humor. /YAMI!/ the hikari wailed, eyes wide as he clutched his hand over his frantically beating heart. Listening to his frazzled other, the yami started snickering quietly, ruining the effect and giving away the game. That was just the kind of slip Ryou needed. /That wasn't funny!/ //Oh yes, it was,// disputed the spirit smugly as his smirk widened and his eyes gleamed. //Gullible, aren't we?// Ryou paused mid-ramble and gapped at his other. He couldn't mean... /Ugh.../ Groaning, Ryou dug himself deeper into the sheets, burying his face in a pillow to hide the faint red tinge that was spreading quickly across his cheeks. He could easily imagine his yami standing with his arms crossed, a snarl replacing the previous smirk. /You were watching that?/ he asked meekly. //Your little imitation session in the alley? Unfortunately.// Ryou let out a sheepish, slightly fearful chuckle. /It... seemed like a good idea at the time?/ he offered hesitantly. Exasperatedly, the yami growled. //Of all the-// "Ow!" Ryou protested out loud as he was unexpectedly hit on the head with a dented first-aid kit, which had apparently been picked up by a tread of Shadow. He winced and rubbed his latest bruise, the irony of it registering in the back of his mind. //Watch your back, hikari. I'll get you back for that stunt,// the spirit promised as he retreated into his soul room, leaving his counterpart alone. Staring at the ceiling, Ryou groaned quietly, still tense despite the fact that his yami had withdrawn. This really just isn't my day... His body begged for sleep and he was more than willing to surrender. He'd had enough trauma for one day. He barely managed to remember to remove his newly acquired knife and place it on the nightstand before curling up under the sheets, coat and all. Maybe if I'm lucky he'll just forget... The hikari sighed, although he knew the chances of that were slim to none. And I really should... take care of... my hand... first... Not long after, his breath deepened as sleep claimed him. As such, he failed to notice the darkening shadows around him, moving as if it had a mind of its own. //Baka.// Ryou jerked automatically at the voice, but refused to wake. Slowly, air and shadow seemed to waver and then solidify as the yami separated from his host, accompanied by the customary flashing of the Ring. Standing about a meter from the bed, the spirit crossed his arms and growled, glaring quietly at his other as the last lingering slivers of moonlight played across their near-identical features.

Ryou woke up with a start when his alarm rang a few hours later and was somewhat relieved by the fact that he hadn't slept through the noise. Usually after a night of yami-approved excursions he slept like the dead. The last thing he needed was to be late on the second day of school, especially given the fact that he already lived on school grounds. Reaching up to brush the hair out of his eyes, he suddenly froze. His hand had been dressed and expertly re-bandaged with a proper strip of white gauze. Funny, I don't remember doing that... He didn't contemplate it for long, however, and jumped when the snooze alarm went off. Leaping into action, he stumbled over the first-aid kit that had been left carelessly on the floor by the bed and yelped as his elbows hit the carpeting. Hopping his way comically to the door, he hastily threw his coat over the chair, grabbed a towel and went to wash up before breakfast. He didn't notice Taro watching guardedly from across the hall. Chapter 8 - Join the Club Behold, in all its stubble splendor, the bright educational facility known as Hokushin High. Sunlight filtered brightly through the incredibly fluffy white clouds in the sky above, providing just enough cover to keep the day from becoming blisteringly hot. Students proceeded groggily about their early morning routines. Teachers prayed for their continued survival against the daily onslaught of angst-ridden teens. Birds sang. Breezes blew. Bunnies frolicked. A picturesque image of peace, tranquility and... Given the basic rules surrounding the life of one Bakura Ryou, aged officially, as of today, 17, and his roughly 3001-year-old yami (give or take a few years between birth and death) he should've known it was too good to last. Ryou tugged absently on his ponytail as he locked his door, fully intending to grab a bite to eat before facing a full day of classes. The shower had helped. Hopefully enough to keep him from falling asleep during lectures... he was keeping his fingers crossed. A pair of black, finger-less gloves covered both hands in a last-ditch attempt to conceal the white bandages around his right hand. It was stiff, cumbersome and painfully out of place given the uniform, but hopefully less incriminating than bare bandages out in the open. /Ne, Yami?/ Ryou called, frowning. //Mmrph.// came the gruff, sleepy reply. /Ne, Yami, please listen. I kinda have a bad feeling.../ //Che, what the hell are you talking about?// the tomb raider asked grouchily, clinging stubbornly to the last vestiges to blissful, dreamless slumber. /Bad feeling,/ the hikari repeated, a hint of sarcasm building in his voice as he realized the spirit wasn't actually paying attention. /Like standing under a particularly tall tree during a thunder storm or staring down out of a flaming aircraft without a parachute or having Doma the Angel of Silence tap-dancing on your head in a red smock singing "Danger Zone"... Yami!-/ "Ahem." Yelping, the hikari whirled, back pressed against the door as a hand raised reflexively over his heart. It took him a few moments to put a name to the face. "Mizu-san! Please, don't do that!" the transfer student breathed, staring wide-eyed at the guidance office secretary who seemed to have an uncanny ability to sneak up on poor, unsuspecting civilians.

The old lady smiled benignly, milking the I'm-just-a-helpless-harmless-little-old-lady look for all it was worth. "Sorry," she offered cheerfully, without a trace of regret, "This came in for you today, Bakura-kun!" Blinking, Ryou finally noticed the brown parcel in the secretary's age-worn hands and accepted it with a hint of apprehension, instantly wary. Mail could be a surprisingly dangerous thing, especially if you were a millennium holder. Inspecting the package, his face brightened considerably when he noticed the address that was printed on the attached letter. "Good news?" Mizu-san inquired, although her eyes still lingered on his glove-covered hands. "Hopefully," Ryou agreed, picking up the letter and looking a bit bewildered. "It's from my father." In all honestly, he really hadn't expected to receive anything on his birthday. Yugi-tachi were never told that he was moving until too late and his father hadn't certainly hadn't given him anything since... since the day he gave him the Ring... "All the way from Egypt too!" the secretary exclaimed, eyes twinkling with what appeared to be understanding. "Yeah," Ryou smiled gratefully and turned back to his room, ruthlessly pushing down the odd feeling of bitterness and alienation that washed over him. Most other teens would be glad to receive a gift from their fathers but then, "most teens" didn't often include him. "Thank you very much for bringing this up, Mizu-san." "Oh, you're welcome. These old legs needed the exercise anyway," the aged office worker pointed out wryly, before superciliously sneaking a careful glance into the boy's room. Truth be told, she'd been recruited by Hanako to do a little research... well, snooping, basically... though you'd think a person her age would be well above that. Not so. She sighed mock-mournfully in her mind. Leave it the young and spry to con a little old lady to do all her dirty work. A person's room could tell you quite a bit about the person himself, although that quirk was somewhat muffled by the fact that student dorms could only be personalized to a certain extent. Ryou, she noted however, didn't seem to be terribly interested in personalizing at all. His room was clean, as most of his stuff was still stored in bags in the corner of his room. The rest, she assumed, was in his closet. His carefully made bed was turquoise, with black lining and his desk was littered with school textbooks. A dark trench coat was tossed carelessly over the room's only chair. On the dresser, black candles were lined up in a pattern Mizu couldn't quite make out from her angle. Candles were, of course, forbidden in dorm rooms to help prevent the threat of fire, but they seemed to be more for show than anything else. And beside that, sitting innocently on the wooden accessory... an opened pack of cream puffs? (Mizu bit her lip to stifle her laughter) Other than that, in a few minutes, it would probably be quite possible to remove any traces that Bakura Ryou was actually the current occupant of room 310D. She "hmmm"ed quietly to herself. A mark of someone used to moving around? Or someone used to running? Studiously aware of the woman watching, and all the more nervous for it, Ryou carefully unlocked an unmarked metal box located on the top shelf of his closet and carefully placed the package inside. He had no intention of opening the package in front of anyone, especially not when his yami was lurking around the corners of his mind in a restless prowl. Packages from

Egypt could be anything from a perfectly mundane collection of complementary keychains of the Sphinx to highly volatile Ancient Egyptian Artifacts of Sealed Power with the potential to make or break the known world... needless to say; a little paranoia could go a long way. Is this why I feel so jumpy today? Sighing, the hikari smiled at the secretary as he took a quick glance down the hallway, closing the door behind him. Although that smile was friendly, Mizu-san was under no delusion that the transfer student hadn't been anything but perfectly aware of her true intentions from the moment she'd handed him the package. "Mizu-san, how exactly did you get in anyway? The floor doors are always locked and-" At that moment, both turned at the sound of a door opening as Kanzaki Kanto stepped out of his room in all his morning glory, wearing absolutely nothing but a towel wrapped around his slim waist. His usually spiked red hair was mussed and flattened from sleep and on his feet, to Ryou's bemused surprise, were a pair of very fluffy yellow ducky-slippers, adorned at the toes with a pair of black button eyes. Kanto stared. Ryou blushed and coughed pointedly. Mizu-san smiled a smile that caused her eyes to twinkle mischievously as she patiently removed, cleaned, and replaced her wire-rimmed eyeglasses. "Ohayou gozaimas, Kanzaki-san. You're looking well," she greeted casually. "Miizzuuu-san!!!" Kanto wailed in a strangled voice as he dove back into his room, face as red as his hair, and kicked the door shut behind him. "Ku," Ryou winced as The Door, as it was now fondly nicknamed, took even more abuse. As if lock-picking, head-dents and kick marks weren't enough. "Who let the female onto the floor?!" Kanto was ranting furiously from his side of The Door. "Oh, don't be silly, dear. I've raised nine sons of my own, you know." Nine? Ryou thought with a bit admiration. He couldn't even begin to imagine... Saito, who apparently had the room beside Ryou, stuck is head out, took one look at the secretary, the hikari and The Door, arched an eyebrow and promptly shut himself back up in his own room. Ryou envied him. "Ne, Kanzaki-san," the secretary's voice continued, calm and sweet though it was, couldn't quite conceal her amusement or the fact that the saccharine levels in her voice were well above normal. "Where did you get those adorable slippers? I'm sure my grandson would love to have a pair." Kanto let out a violent string of muffled curses that left Ryou choking politely on air, ears red to their very tips. Oh yes, things could only go down hill from here. The time was 7:42 am, September 2nd. If this was normalcy, Ryou was very, very worried indeed. After breakfast (throughout which Kanto sent nasty looks in his direction) Ryou stared fixatedly at the package on the desk in front of him. He had just enough time before class to open it. The question being... did he really want to? It looked so ordinary, so harmless.

Biting his lip and steeling his nerves, he hesitantly reached out and grasped the pristine white letter that was attached and broke the seal, skimming over his father's familiar flowing handwriting. Dear Ryou, Happy 17th! I hope this letter find you well far from troubleBakura snorted. -The dig is proceeding wonderfully. Just yesterday, a couple of new professionals arrived to survey the site. Among them is an American named Prof. Arthur Hawkins... the man really has some bizarre ideas, I can tell you that much. Seemed really exited to be here too, but I digress. You can open the package nowLifting his eyes once more to the tabletop, Ryou stared almost accusingly at the innocent seeming package. //Coward,// his yami growled impatiently and Ryou suddenly found himself helpless as his own hand darted out without his consent and snatched up the parcel, ripping the brown paper wrapping apart. Opening the box, Ryou gapped at a thin, intricately decorated black leather sheath, slightly less in length than his forearm. The slender gold runes that were encrypted into the length of the leather had a definite Egyptian air about them, and near either ends, two leather straps belted around into loose loops, designed to fit around the arm of the wearer. Ryou looked back at the letter, vaguely surprised that he was actually able to do so. Apparently his yami had relinquished control again. -I was walking through the market when a boy with lavender eyes caught my arm and shoved that thing at me. Almost gave me a heart attack before I realized he wasn't actually armed. Of all things, he just smirks at me and says, "Tell your son, Ryou, that Malik Ishtar and his sister say 'hi'" and walks away as if it's was the most natural thing in the world to shove potentially dangerous and possibly sharp objects at innocent bystandersRyou sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. -You never told me you had friends in Egypt. But here's the clincher. An exact duplicate of that sheath was found some days ago at the dig site... barring the fact that the version we found is a few thousand years older and still housed a blade. Son, would you like to explain exactly how this friend of yours was able to come across an exact replica of an artifact sealed in a tomb that remained untouched for thousands of years and located, of all things, in what appears to be the bottom of a particularly nasty pit-trapRyou grimaced. Not really, father, no. -Anyway, barring all that, I've taken the liberty of replacing the bands with newer leather belts, since the original ones looked rather worn. Whatever the significance, I hope you like it. I do hope to hear from you soon. I know I'm not home very often and that we don't see each other as often as I'd like. Please forgive me. Best of luck, Your father Shaking his head forlornly, Ryou examined the sheath again, trying to decipher the hieroglyphs encrypted into the side. //It says 'Feed the Darkness, arm of Hate',// his yami supplied quietly.

Wide-eyed, Ryou gulped, wondering at his yami's unusually quiet tone and gingerly set the item on the table top as if he were dealing with a live snake. /Are you sure it doesn't say 'Live long and prosper'?/ he asked feebly. //Positive.// Of course, Ryou groaned, Other kids get a car or study books from their dads on their 17th and I get a demonic Egyptian sheath. Only my father. Suddenly finding himself a passenger in his own body again, he watched as the spirit took his newly acquired knife from under the pillow and slid it into the sheath with a soft click. Perfect fit. Bakura snorted. //Figures, I suppose.// /Ne, Yami?/ Ryou asked, confused by his yami's unusually subdued behavior. His yami was quiet for sometime. /Yami, daijoubou ka?/ //...It was mine, the duplicate your father found at the dig...// His lips were curled into a bitter sneer. //Damn Isis anyway.// /What?/ the hikari asked, completely flabbergasted. He stared again at the knife and sheath in his hands as his mind processed the information. His mouth curved into a silent "o". /......At the bottom of a pit-trap?/ He felt the spirit bristle indignantly and glare. //You're late for class, bakayarou.// "What?" Ryou jerked, whipping up to look at the clock. "Oh crud!" Slamming the item into the box in the closet, Ryou grabbed his bag and dashed out the door, almost tripping over his chair again (he really needed to move that chair), leaving his yami to seethe quietly in the back of his mind. He wouldn't pry, not yet. Dashing down the halls, Ryou hastily opened the door to the classroom only to shrink back when he ran in to meet the foreboding, bug-eyed face of his middle-aged math teacher. "You're late, Bakura-san," the teacher barked with a scowl and pointed sternly out the door, backed by the giggling of the class. Besides, Ryou thought forlornly as he stooped down to pick up a pair of buckets by the door with a groan. I have my own problems to worry about right now. Classes passed with agonizing slowness. Even after dinner, Ryou's feeling of apprehension still hadn't subsided and the fact that his yami was being irrepressibly silent didn't exactly help matters. Moreover, it was truly amazing how, with just three little words, that feeling seemed to multiply ten-fold, sounding in his head like the harbinger of death and destruction: "You're going clubbing." Doom, thy name is Shigure. Now somehow, word had spread that it was his birthday (how, exactly, he couldn't quite figure out, since he couldn't recall ever telling anyone) and given the universe's twisted sense of humor, Ryou found himself conveniently cornered by the floor representative: a senior student named Shigure Aoiro. Captain of the soccer team, Shigure had an impressive build, and was known to bark orders when necessary. Fortunately, it hadn't come to that yet, but Ryou was wary none the less. "You have to come, Bakura-kun," Shigure insisted. "Shigure-sempai, it's completely unnecessary!"

"Maybe," the senior student smiled wryly, "But we might as well put some of that student funding to use, and you're our excuse. I have to admit, it was one of Taro's better ideas." Ryou frowned. Taro-kun's what? "...We can't very well leave without you," Shigure continued obliviously. "'Sides, we can't very well disappoint all your adoring fans." "...Fans?" Ryou repeated slowly, teetering on the verge of hysteria as his mind caught up with the information his ears were force-feeding him. "Hn... you seem to have attracted half the female populace of the school. Apparently they think you're the 'gorgeous, vulnerable, mysterious lost puppy **squeal**' type," Shigure arched an eyebrow and suppressed a smile. Clearing his throat dramatically, he clasped his hands over his heart and gushed in a high falsetto imitation of a girl: "'Oh, his hair's so amazing, don't you just want to run your hands through it? And his eyes! They're so absolutely dreamy!'" "What?" the hikari squeaked, eyes round, "But it's only been two days!" The soccer captain shrugged carelessly. "Girls... But y'know, come to think of it, I think you've snagged some of the guys too," Shigure reflected with all seriousness, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Unsuccessfully fighting a blush and feeling dangerously light-headed, Ryou covered his face with a hand and groaned in utter despair. He could never just be normal, could he? Shigure pointedly ignored that and draped his arm companionably around the smaller teen's shoulders as he steered the unwilling hikari through the door. "C'mon, Bakura, it'll be fun. Practically the whole dorm's going. And who knows, if you keep this popular streak up, maybe you'll even charm Kurokaze-yarou...san." Ryou looked at him with an expression that was a combination of horror and doubt. "Kurokaze-san hates me." The senior smirked. "Well, y'know what they say about love and hate..." "Shigure-sempai!" the hikari looked utterly horrified now. Chuckling, the senior student shoved him along. "You're coming," he ordered with finality. Up the stairs. "No..." "Be sure to lock your room before you go..." Onto his floor. "Nooo..." "...And try not to hog all the girls." Down the hall. "No..." "We're leaving in an hour." "No?" Ryou sighed helplessly, perfectly aware that he'd lost the argument before it even started. //Y'know, you've got pretty good posture for someone without a spine,// his yami commented sarcastically. /Not helping.../ the hikari groused, but was secretly pleased that his yami had seemingly shaken off whatever was bothering him earlier. A grumpy yami was a dangerous one. A sarcastic yami, he could deal with. But alas, his relief was short-lived.

Collected in the hallway, Saito, Kanto and Taro were talking leisurely, all of them looking prepped ready to go. They turned when they noticed the two figures approaching. "I leave him in your capable hands, gentlemen," Shigure said with a flourish as he deposited the unfortunate transfer student in front of his dorm mates. "..." Ryou favored them all with an apprehensive look and the senior student patted his back in a not-so-reassuring manner, grinning and nearly taking out the hikari's lungs in his cheerful enthusiasm. "See you there, Bakura-kun!" the floor rep. chirped as he quickly dashed in the opposite direction, leaving the white-haired transfer to his fate. "Eh?! Shigure-sempai, wait-!" the hikari called nervously, suddenly noticing that the other three teens were sporting very toothy grins. Kanto, in particular, looked impishly vengeful. Taro was still slightly cool. Saito, on the other hand, looked vaguely amused and somewhat sympathetic. Not by much, though. "You're not planning to wear that to the club, are you, Bakura-kun?" Kanto asked all too sweetly, pointing at the hikari's beige v-neck sweater and turquoise, collared shirt. Ryou sweatdropped. Somehow, he was going clubbing. Somehow, he was also utterly and undeniably doomed. "Kanto, drop the boa," Saito ordered flatly, taking pity on the traumatized transfer student. "Don't you think it contrasts nicely with his white hair?" "...Would you like to explain exactly why you have a pink boa currently in your possession? To match your ducky-slippers, perhaps?" ".........Dropping the boa." 11:34 pm Not for the first time, Ryou found himself standing under a dark, turbulent sky and asking that age old question that had plagued the equally turbulent minds of man-kind since they first developed the ability of rational thought. Why me?! After much debating, the terrible trio had let him keep his turquoise shirt, but confiscated the sweater and replaced it with one of his dark jackets. The Ring was hidden under his shirt, since a large, obnoxious golden item tended to attract the wrong kind of people. His hair was tied with a black band, contrasting starkly against his hair and his pants were made, not from leather, that just wasn't his thing, but of a comfortable glossy material that was thicker than silk, but shared a similar texture. Standing outside the crowded entrance of the Tremor, not only was Ryou at a social gathering that didn't revolve around duels of any sort, he was in a social gathering that didn't revolve around duels wearing "decent" clothing, designed specifically by his so-called friends to attract the opposite sex. His other had barely had enough time to discretely strap on his new sheath (when his "helpers" weren't looking) before he was dragged bodily onto a bus and shipped to the club. He felt naked. Somewhere, someone giggled.

He felt really naked. Every few minutes he felt the urge to check that he wasn't trapped in one of those nightmares where you showed up at school in nothing but your underwear with people pointing and laughing. Or maybe it was an "Emperor's New Clothes" thing? But no, his clothes were still most definitely intact and he was still most definitely awake. But dang it, why did they have to giggle so much? "Relax, Bakura-kun," Taro whispered, noticing the other's nervousness. "I am perfectly fine," the hikari countered crisply, putting some of that cool British attitude he'd inherited from his father to use, eyeing his surroundings shiftily only to jump a mile high when he felt someone deliberately brush up against him. "Th-th-Th-t..." "Yeah, I can see that," the blonde smiled wryly. "C'mon Bakura-kun. For all of Kanto's jibing, you clean up pretty good and we'll make tonight a night to remember," he said, hooking his thumbs into his belt and turning to look at the fast approaching entrance. "Aa, that's what I'm afraid of," Ryou muttered forlornly. Taro chuckled. At that moment, any attempt at escape was banished as Ryou was blasted with the rhythmic beat of insanely loud music and pinned under the glare of a burly, dark-skinned bouncer. "Mmmm, new blood," the man boomed, his grin showing off a set of even white teeth. "Eheh..." Ryou laughed nervously. Taro shot the bouncer a thumbs up and grinned. "Shigure-san already paid upfront, didn't he?" "Yeah yeah, go on in brats," but not before he pulled off Ryou's right glove, hand poised with a marker, only to encounter glaring white bandages instead of skin. Hastily, Ryou pulled back his hand as if it was burned, deliberately avoiding anyone's gaze. The bouncer pressed his lips together. "Other hand," he ordered stiffly and Ryou very reluctantly obeyed. He watched nervously as his hand was stamped before the bouncer gave him back his gloves without a word and opened the door. Wincing, Ryou was steered into the club by a stoic Taro. Had he really thought that the music couldn't get any louder? He was wrong. Inside, the music combined with the thrum of conversation was so overwhelming, it threatened to break his eardrums. It was as if someone had decided to crank up the noise levels to just barely below the point of human intolerance. He stared at the squiggly mark on the back of his hand. "Why didn't you get one of these?" he yelled reproachfully over the din, still extremely embarrassed at being caught with bandages around his hand. "'Cause I'm not underage!" Taro retorted indifferently and said no more. For a moment, Ryou was afraid the taller boy would press the issue, but he was extremely grateful for the fact that Taro didn't seem to want to pry. He didn't like lying, but if the other boy told anyone... He really couldn't afford that. Biting his lip, he slid the glove back over his right hand but kept his left hand bare, stuffing the other glove into a pocket. "Ne, Taro-kun..." he cleared his throat nervously. The blonde pinned his blue-grey eyes on him. "Iie, it's none of my business, right?" he said, not unkindly. Ryou nodded in relief, "A-arigato, Taro-kun..." "There you guys are!" a cheerful voice called and both teens turned towards the source of the call, Ryou infinitely glad for the interruption. Kanto bounced up, Saito following at more sedate pace with a long-suffering and somewhat apologetic smile. The redhead draped his arm casually across the hikari's shoulder, all

traces of animosity about the towel/Mizu-san incident apparently forgotten or forgiven, and gestured at the expanse before them with a flourish. "Welcome to the Tremor Nightclub!" Really looking for the first time, Ryou was instantly startled by the sheer number of people that had congregated under one roof. The club was at least two stories high, and the large metallic spiral staircase in the distance suggested that there was a subterranean level too. The second level seemed to be more for relaxing and overlooked the dance floor below. Coloured lights flashed in random sequences, bathing the dancers in an almost eerie glow as the music pounded loudly away. Kanto giggled. Giggled and Ryou turned to stare apprehensively at the teen attached to his shoulder, noting distantly that he too had a squiggly mark on the back of his hand... and a bottle of something in the other. "Is he alright? Is that..." Saito nodded wryly. "But he'd underage too!" the hikari exclaimed, utterly appalled. Not that he wasn't aware that a good number of teens didn't much care if they were underage, but one night, Jou and Honda had convinced him to have "a little something" and that little something had changed into "a lot of something" and one thing had lead to another... He still had nightmares. Having the buxom, burly faux-blonde from the tattoo parlor en route to school smirk and waggle her overlythick eyebrows knowingly at him the morning after had put him off drinking for at least another couple of decades, if not his life. He shuddered. There were some rules that were better left unbroken. Saito looked extremely amused. "Like that's ever stopped him before. But if it makes you feel better, it's not really the alcohol that's getting to him so much as the tub of ice cream he ate on the bus." "Yeah," the redhead pouted, suddenly sad. "S'not fair that Taro gets all the good stuff." The said blonde was busy pretending that he didn't know them. Ryou sweatdropped as he attempted to extract himself from the moody redhead's grasp. Taro-kun probably had the right idea. "Sa, where to first?" Kanto crowed, doing and another 180-degree mood shift. "Sorry, boys, but I think I'll have to steal Ryou-chan from you for a moment..." said a distinctly female voice. Interrupted for the second time in minutes, all four boys turned and stared. Smiling silkily, Jade Zwan stood dressed in a pair of dark red leather pants, with heels to match. Her black silk shirt was frilled around a v-shaped collar and her hair was pulled into a loose bun. Her make-up, as usual, was flawless. "Jade-san," Bakura acknowledged in his usual rumble as he took over without a word. "What are you doing here?" "Business," she replied, arching an eyebrow. "And you?" "Pleasure," he countered, chuckling easily at the running joke between them. Jade shook her head ruefully, but shot him a pointed glance. "Walk with me a bit, hon." Twisting expertly out of Kanto's grasp, Bakura pointedly ignored the "You know her?! ...Can you get me her number?" message the male redhead was attempting to send discretely, and feel into step beside the owner of The Jade Concubine. "Out of the grasp of one redhead and strait into the arms of another," he smirked. Jade laughed softly as she linked her arm through his. "I hope you like me better?" "Aa, Kanto-kun was too clingy for my taste," he said sardonically.

She stifled a snort. "Can I get you a drink, Ryou-chan?" she smiled slightly. "This might take a while." /Nononononononononononono-/ "Sure," the tomb raider concurred, watching surprise flicker across the woman's face with a certain amount of satisfaction. Ryou let out a tortured groan from his soul room. "You weren't kidding when you said pleasure." She eyed him with furrowed brows and a pout. "Marcus?" she called, gracefully setting herself before the bar. "Luv, how 'bout a Bloody Mary and a Mai Tai?" Leaning one arm in the table, the man jerked his chin at the yami. "Not allowed to serve him. You know that, Jade." The tomb raider growled softly and Jade placed a hand on his arm, her friendly countenance unwavering. "Not even as a favor for an old friend?" the redhead asked, smiling coyly. "And lose my job?" the man said, smirking slightly as he raised his eyebrows. "No chance of that," came the cheerful reply. Giving the woman a hard stare, the bartender finally sighed and relented, grumbling as he went to fetch the drinks. Bakura set himself casually on a stool, turning his attention from the bartender to the redhead. "Why'd you pick me out, Jade-san?" "So serious today," she jibbed lightly, crossing her legs neatly. "Iie, now you're stalling. You wouldn't have called me away in front of so many witnesses just to say 'hi'," the tomb raider commented dryly. "I doubt they'd believe me if I told them you were my well-wishing aunt." Wordlessly, Marcus set down the Mai Tai in font of Jade and placed the Bloody Mary in front of the Spirit of the Ring, rolling his eyes when Jade blew him a kiss in thanks. Wordlessly, Bakura took a long gulp of his drink and Jade arched an elegant eyebrow as she watched contemplatively. "That was pretty smooth for someone who doesn't drink. You realize that there's vodka in that?" The tomb raider smiled grimly. "Yes." Already he felt the added warmth as the alcohol burned its way down to his stomach. His hikari had practically no tolerance, and while it made falling into a drugged stupor much easier, and therefore somewhat convenient for his purposes at the moment, it was also rather embarrassing. He gave the barest of sighs before turning his unwavering gaze to the woman beside him, careful to take smaller sips. Another thing he'd picked up from past experiences was that those of his profession couldn't safely afford to get stoned out of their minds unless they were stupid or suicidal. Jade, however, was more interested in studying her guest than talking at the moment. It was very rare that Ryou-chan would accept a drink. In fact, for all the time she'd known him and for all the times she'd asked previously, he'd turned her down. What had changed? Her eyes flashed up to meet his. Deep, turbulent ruby, like the colour of her favorite wine. He was... troubled? Or was she reading too much into his easy acceptance of a old offer? Such an enigma... "Ku, Jade-san, are you going to stare into my eyes all night?" the yami asked, dryly amused.

I am not going to blush, the redhead repeated to herself firmly. I am nine years older than him... eight... "At least your mouth still works," she sighed, swirling her drink. "Listen, Bakura-san (Bakura arched an eyebrow at the formal title), I'm not sure exactly what it was you did, put you've got the Underground talking about you. Keith's got a price on your head." Bakura smirked. "I'm curious as to how an idiot like Keith managed to swindle top-spot-" "Iie, you misunderstood. Keith's only trying to save his own neck by catching you. You're still new at this game, Ryou-chan. Although I'll grant that you're extremely talented, you're getting in well over your head." The spirit leaned back against the table and regarded her with an expression that was half amusement half indignance. I've been playing this game about 3000 years longer than you have, kitsune. "So tell me, exactly what am I getting myself into?" The woman sighed, tracing her finger around the rim of her glass. "You know I can't tell you that, least of all here-" "-You've already said too much?" Jade glared. "I hope you don't mean that in a general sense." Bakura pulled his best 'Who me? I'm just an innocent little hikari' impression. "An-" Jade started. "Hey, doll, ditch the boy and dance with me?" Looking up through her eyelashes, Jade turned to the newcomer, a man with a 100-watt smile and slicked back hair. "Maybe another time, hon." "C'mon baby, don't be a prude," he whispered, running a hand deliberately down the side of her face, totally missing the dangerous flash of her eyes. "A beauty like you shouldn't waste her skills on a child." Jade pushed his hand away in a slow deliberate movement. "Not interested," she punctuated coolly. "Babe-" As the man reached out again, the redhead grabbed his wrist and twisted painfully. "Ow! Crap!" the man exclaimed, bending in an attempt to lessen the pain. "Don't make me repeat myself a third time," the geisha smiled silkily and released him. "You can ask again when I'm working." "Bitch," the man snarled as he tried to soothe his pride, glaring as he stepped forward threateningly. "She's promised the next dance to me," Bakura cut in. Both adults turned to look at the teen, having forgotten he was there, and the tomb raider arched a pale eyebrow. In one final glup, the yami polished off his drink and leaned in towards the enraged man. He smiled darkly and murmured in a low grumble, "Got a problem with that?" "A..." his words turned into an unmanly squeak as he felt a cold mental blade puncture through his expensive shirt, right over his heart, with just enough force to draw a minimal amount of blood. "Aa...?" The yami prompted, dragging the blade down an inch. His entire expression read 'give me a reason'. The man's eyes went wide. "N-nope," he corrected, gulping. He shivered when the teen shot him a feral grin, eyes glinting sadistically.

"Pity. You give up far too easily." "S-sure buddy, whatever you say..." he stuttered and backed away, before running like the hounds of hell were on his heels when he reached the fringes of the crowd. Jade looked after the retreating form in amusement. "Well, that's one potential customer lost... I think you've scarred him for life." "It was barely enough to make him bleed," the spirit countered idly as he slid the knife back into its sheath, knowing full well that that wasn't what the geisha had meant. Turning back to the teen, she stared the open hand offered to her and up into the face of its owner. "Ryou-chan?" "I think you owe me a dance now," the teen prompted wryly. Chuckling, Jade accepted the hand easily and walked into the crowd. "I suppose I owe you just one, for being sweet and defending my honor." Bakura growled in annoyance. "You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I'm a 'nice' person, Jade-san. His presence was about as enjoyable as an infestation of wasps." "Ah, I see," she replied agreeably, but her tone suggested otherwise. The tomb raider glared. Listen as the wind blows, from across the great divide, In the throng of people, Bakura tilted his head slightly to the side. "Y'know, body movement is generally thought of as a requirement before one can be classified as 'dancing'," Jade prompted with a smile, her own movements smooth and sensuous. "Work with me here." Bakura drank in the rhythm of the people around him, standing like a rock in troubled waters, studying their motions intently. It seemed relatively simple, although he did notice a lot of variation. The ones that caught his attention were the ones that danced like Jade-san, fluid and easy in their moves so that the line between one action and the next was blurred. Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time, "So exactly why did you come here?" the yami asked with a side-long glance at the curvaceous redhead. "To advertise," the woman smiled seductively and pulled a particularly daring move, incidentally attracting a couple of open mouths from the surrounding males (who in turn, attracted a number of painful whacks from their girlfriends). The Spirit of the Ring barked a laugh and wove his way between bodies, slowly starting to get into the beat. /Yami, what are you doing?/ Ryou asked bewilderedly. The night is my companion, and solitude my guide, He fell into step with the music. It had been so long since he'd tried to simply be... and exist. Granted, existing was just about all he could do for 3000 years, but that wasn't by choice. Control was the one thing he'd strived for his whole life. Like so many others: Seto and Malik and Pegasus... Control over God, Destinty, Death... All failed in the end.

But there was an odd sense of unity; to dance in a crowd of this size. And an equally odd feeling of solidarity. Dancing to the same rhythm in a way that was your own. So insignificant in a sea of bodies that moved as a disjointed whole. To be more than yourself. He snorted, why exactly was he doing this? He refused to believe that the sheath Malik... or was it Isis? had sent could effect him so strongly, but it did. In the past it had all been so clearcut. He had been ruthless as a thief; feared. He had a goal and was willing to push all boundaries to attain it. The Millenium Items. So what the hell was he thinking, going along with his pathetic hikari to a place where the Items might as well be out of his reach, without even a word of protest at the time to satisfy his pride? Here... was he only a shadow? /Yami?/ Bakura laughed, the edge in his voice drowned out by the thrum of the music, the red glint of his eyes camouflaged by a spectrum of flashing lights. His hair swayed wildly, an odd array of flexible spikes. 3000 years come and gone. Would I spend forever here, and not be satisfied? He danced. "Boss," a teen hissed urgently. "Boss, it's him again!" Blearily, Hoboshi, field-leader of the Machines looked out into the crowd and snapped out of his drunken haze of self-pity, face morphing to sport a ferocious sneer. The white-haired figure below was easy to pick out if you knew what you were looking for and that same white-haired scrawny punk had made him look like a fool in front of his peers, marring his reputation like a vindictive kitty's personal scratching post. The can of beer in his hand crunched at the unexpected pressure placed upon it, spilling its contents all over his hand and table. Keith had chewed him out royally, not only for running but running into the cops. Never mind that he hadn't been the one who chickened first. Or that he'd actually tried to pound some sense into his merry band of sheep. He'd failed and that was that and now he was the laughingstock of the whole frickin' neighbourhood. Bile rose in his throat. Two-faced cowards, all of them! Because through the whole embarrassing ordeal, he couldn't help but remember the veiled apprehension he'd seen in his superior's eyes. Keith was afraid. Of Whitey. Just like everyone else. What the hell was it with the fraud that The Bandit Keith would have Whitey as an ally rather than an enemy?! Couldn't he see that he was just another pushover punk wannabe? He snorted, sounding more like a wild mammal than a human. The answer was obvious. So now, not only was he, Hoboshi Ijime, the Underdog of the Year. He was the underdog in charge of recruiting the Albino Freak. Dramatic irony rears its ugly head and bites like a rabid monkey. "Boss," the lackey called again, fearfully. "What are we going to do?"

Looking instensely at the oblivious teen dancing in the crowd, Hoboshi drank in the sight of his prey, lips slowly curling at the ends. White hair highlighted in the dimness. Slight, slim build. So fluid in his moves. Graceful and almost effeminate. Pretty, pretty white-haired freak. With a low laugh, he set down his drink but a sharp thunk, flicking his hand to get rid of the foamy amber liquid it was coated with. "Let's go give the bastard a proper welcome," he slurred, wiping spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand. Well la dee da. I'll show them all... Not moving his gleaming eyes from the dancing figure, Hoboshi stood, chair scraping roughly against the floor. "You know what to do if he refuses." "S-sure, Boss," the other teen nodded and swallowed, darting nervously back into the crowd. Pheh. Hoboshi licked his lips in sadistic anticipation. Whatever it takes.