So... this is an interesting experiment I'm trying. The first AU I've ever done, too. Multi-chaptered, by my estimate it should take about nine chapters, give or take. Now, let me get to the pairings.
There will be: YamixRyou, SetoxRyou, YamixAnzu, onesided IsisxAnzu, onesided OtogixHonda, implied JonouchixRyou, implied MarikxMalik (with mentions of Ryou molestation in there), and mentions of HondaxMiho and SetoxKisara, though those are both off-screen, so to speak, and not really present (especially the SetoxKisara).
Now then, notes: Gay culture hit a sudden boom in the 1920's, thus explaining someone low-class like Ryou would even think about it, and why it would be irrelevant to someone high class like Yami (who would just do what he likes, regardless). It is also probably the only reason people like Isis in this story could live with themselves.
Also, this story is based off the play Grand Hotel, which was based off the book by Vicki Baum. Many of the lines come directly from the script, though many have been rewritten to better suit the characters (especially Jou's), and many are my own, as well.
And I know Egyptian is an ancient and dead language, but I'm having Isis use it instead of Arabic because I think it sounds better for her.
Glossary:
Kayo-kyoku - a blend of western "pop" and traditional Japanese music that became popular in the 1920's
Danshaku - the Japanese equivalent of "baron" or "duke" in the social hierarchy of this time
"Sedjem-tjen!" - Egyptian for (roughly) "Stop immediately!"
"Ger!" - Egyptian for "Shut up!"
Chuukyou - a region of Japan, like Kanto
"Min" - Egyptian for (roughly) "Quickly"
"A'a redwey new ta!" - Egyptian for (roughly) "The most beautiful dancer in the world!"
"Metey" - Egyptian for "Correct"
"Dewa-netjer. Nefer gereh." - Egyptian for "Thank God. Good night."
The French is pretty basic and not that important to the plot, but if anyone really wants to know what they were saying just say so in a review and I'll be happy to translate for you.
Disclaimer: I don't own YuGiOh, nor do I own the original book "Grand Hotel" or any of its film or stage adaptations
Phew! That was a lot. Now please enjoy!
"Shit!"It was a lovely place, really. A magnificent hotel that seemed to be built from gold and marble. The architecture was Western, clearly setting the building apart from it's traditional Japanese surroundings. A kayo-kyoku tune played by a lounge pianist floated gently through its halls, its melody sweet and simple.
"Fucking Western pop! Goddamnit!"
The song, unfortunately, reached the ears of one man who cared very little for it. In fact, Bakura cared very little for anything much these days. At the moment, however, all he wanted was to make all the fucking pain in his goddamn leg go away.
Collapsing on one of the oversized chairs of his hotel room, Bakura grappled with the large leather bag in his lap. He could feel himself sinking into his seat and cursed again. Those unnecessarily soft chairs were awful for the back. What had happened to world? Hadn't anyone ever heard of good, solid, wooden chairs?
His mental tirade was cut off as another burning pain shot up his leg. Fumbling desperately through his bag now, he finally found he was looking for. In one smooth motion, he picked up the needle, stabbed it into his leg, and pushed down on its top, pumping the clear liquid into his limb.
In just a few moments, he could feel the medicine working its magic. His back fell heavily against the puffy cushion of his chair, breath coming out in relieved pants as the fiery pain subsided to a dull throb. A tired hand dragged itself down his face, then back up to his right eye. Tenderly, his fingers slipped under the thin fabric that made up his eye patch to trace the scars it hid. While he could still see with both eyes, he had long grown tired of the looks people sent him for his disfigured face. Truth be told, he had long grown tired of almost all things in life, and as he sat in his too-comfortable-to-be-comfortable chair, Bakura wondered how his life had come to this.
Bakura, or rather, Doctor Bakura had served as a colonel in the Japanese Army Medical Corps a decade ago. Like most of his comrades, Bakura hadn't been exactly the most moral of doctors, and gained somewhat of a reputation as a thief. He didn't see what the huge deal was; he had only stolen off of corpses, off those who had been wounded so badly that they had not chance of survival, never the ones that would make it through. No, he had done his job and had done it well - Bakura was a competent doctor, despite his appearances - he just thought that he could use a gold watch or a diamond engagement ring more than a cadaver.
And besides that, he deserved a reward. During that war, the invasion on China, he had lost his flawless facial features and most of the use of his left leg. He supposed he could consider himself lucky, since he was still technically in one piece, but it hurt to walk, it hurt to stand, it hurt to sleep, and the pain had left him cynical and bitter.
To be fair, the war had taken away any sense of normalcy Bakura ever had. His battle scars were in plain view and he walked with a cane and a limp; people treated him differently now. His friends had been killed for the most part, and his family had died a long. All he had left when he returned to Japan were the riches and heirlooms he had picked off fallen soldiers.
And that's how he found himself at Grand Hotel, Tokyo. Disabled, alone, and wealthy from his stolen treasures, the luxurious establishment had seemed the obvious choice. Of course, he regretted his decision everyday. Bakura hated Grand Hotel. He hated the pretentious manner in which it existed, he hated the high-up nobles who resided there, hated the snootiness and arrogance and egotism that smothered the air. Every morning, he woke up swearing to check out, and every night he cursed himself as he fell asleep for being so weak.
Because as much as he hated Grand Hotel, Bakura had nowhere else to go.
With a grunt, the white-haired man rose from his seat, walking to his large curtained window. This was how he pathetically spent his time, watching people come in and out of the hotel. Some, he recognized. There was world-famous ballerina, Anzu Mazaki, followed closely by her longtime companion, Isis, manager Yuugi Mutou and agent Mai Kujaku right behind her. To the side was Seto Kaiba, the young president of KaibaCorp, briefcase in hand. There were two he didn't recognize: a blond youth who looked like he was about to be swallowed under the weight of his luggage, and...
...Himself?
Bakura blinked as a slender boy raced through the hotel's revolving doors, a curtain of white hair flying behind him. Belatedly, he realized the boy's hair was longer and his skin was much paler, but despite those differences and the obvious variations in their body builds, Bakura had to grudgingly admit that this newcomer and he looked very, very similar.
As he grumbled to himself, a flash of red and gold caught his eye. His gaze automatically narrowed.
The Danshaku Yami Atemu walked smoothly into the hotel, as if he didn't have a care in the world. But Bakura knew better. Oh, did he ever. He was possibly the only resident of Grand Hotel other than the Danshaku himself who knew that Yami was heir to a small title - and a large debt.
With a smirk, he hobbled away from his window towards the exit of his room.
There was nothing more useless on this planet than a nobleman without money.
Bandit Keith took pride in his work. So, maybe it wasn't the most honest work. Big deal. It gave his life purpose, and without it, he'd've probably ended up street trash, so he considered it progress.
Plus, it was awesome to scare the shit out of people for a living.
The American found his target in the hotel lounge, leaning against the wall as if he was king of the world and swaying back and forth slightly with the music. Little snot. Moving with purpose, he lit a smoke and stalked over to his prey until his shadow completely covered the smaller man.
"My boss wants payment now."
Yami scowled at his peace being disturbed and the smoke billowing into his face. "Don't speak to me in public with a cigarette in your mouth," he growled before closing his eyes again.
Keith leaned back against the wall, too, shoulder to shoulder with the Danshaku, probably looking positively chummy with him to the rest of the world. "My boss always gets what he wants."
"I'm busy," Yami replied quickly, wanting to end the discussion.
"With what?"
"Breathing," the nobleman said, and then promptly turned and walked away.
"Good morning, Front Desk - Yes, this is Hiroto Honda. Is that you, nurse?"
Hiroto Honda was a simple man. He worked a simple job as a receptionist at Grand Hotel, Tokyo, under the harsh control of his boss, the hotel manager Ryuuji Otogi. He worked hard and always gave his best. However, for the past few hours, his mind had been elsewhere.
"What's happening at the hospital? How is Miho? Isn't the baby here yet?"
His wife was giving birth.
"Patience? You can talk! My wife's asking for me?"
It wasn't going well.
"She must know I can't get away. I'd lose my job. Is she still suffering very much?" Honda groaned into the phone's receiver. God, how he wanted to be with Miho, especially when she was in so much pain, but he knew he couldn't leave. Otogi was a harsh boss when he performed perfectly; one slip up and he'd be out of a job for sure. The voice on the other end of the line suddenly became much fuzzier, and Honda struggled to understand the garbled noise. "What? I can't hear you!"
A soft click alerted him to someone entering through the "employees only" door, and with apprehension Honda quickly realized it was Otogi. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he promised, "I'll come as soon as I can!" and then hung up.
The moment his phone was resting in its cradle, three people stormed across the lobby. Honda got up and made to ask them if he could be of any assistance, since they seemed troubled, but they breeze right by him.
"I cannot dance tonight! I will never dance again!" Anzu cried as she headed straight for the bar, slumping onto one of the stools. She let out a whine as her head dropped onto the counter, pillowed by her arms. "How many times have I said that?"
"Hundreds, Anzu-dono," Yuugi chirped, taking the seat next to her and reaching out to grasp her slender hand. "It's a small affliction you have," he said with a small, innocent smile, "like sneezing."
"Well this time I mean it! Mazaki est fini!" Despite her Japanese roots, Anzu had spent most of her life training as a ballerina in France. Yuugi, who had had a crush on her when he was just a child, followed her there in a flattering if somewhat creepy show of devotion. When they had left, she had barely known the kid, but in France they had gotten very close and he returned with her as her agent.
But back to the point at hand.
"Cancel!"
Before she could get another word out, Anzu heard the heavy sound of boots clacking on the floor behind her, and when she eventually felt a shadow fall over her, she craned her neck to stare at the imposing woman frowning at her.
"My God, Anzu-dono!" Mai huffed, growing more and more aggravated with the dancer with each passing minute. "All is in readiness for a triumphant opening tonight! You must dance!" Moral support, Mai thought, moral support. Then she thought, screw it. "You have a contract! We have sold tickets!
"Cancel!" Anzu cried, clearly not caring about her sold audience or her manager's growing anger.
"Anzu-chan," Yuugi cut in, sensing the growing tensions between the two women. Always the peacekeeper, the small boy tightened his grip on Anzu's hand and tried to soothe her. "Anzu-chan..."
"Qu'est-ce que tu as? Qu'est-ce que tu veux?" Anzu asked her devoted agent, and Mai resisted the very strong urge to roll her yes. They always did this, especially when Anzu didn't feel like talking to her. She so didn't get paid enough for this job.
"Is this you?" Yuugi inquired softly, continuing their inane babble. "You never disappoint your fans."
"I would rather disappoint them than cheat them. I cannot dance any more! Mazaki retires!"
"Mais ce n'est pas possible, enfin! Voyons!"
Mai gave into her urges and rolled her eyes.
For a moment, Anzu looked to be on the verge of giving in, but just as Mai got her hopes up, the ballerina turned away and shouted, "Je ne peux rien faire! Cancel!"
Oh, that was it.
"I cannot allow you to cancel at this late hour," Mai scolded sternly. "We've sold tickets."
There was pause in which Anzu looked at Mai as though the blonde was an alien, before turning back to Yuugi. "What did she say? Is she speaking Korean? Her accent is terrible!"
Oh, hahaha. So Anzu was going to ignore her manager now just because she was American? Fine. At this point, Mai really didn't care, and the more she thought about it, the more returning ot her homeland across the Pacific appealed to her. Honestly, what had compelled her to stay with this woman for so many years? Prima donna bitch.
Just as she was about to voice her opinion on the subject, the blonde was interrupted by the hotel manager. Otogi roughly shoved the woman out of his way and presented a bouquet of lilies to Anzu. "Mazaki-dono, welcome to Grand Hotel," he said warmly, gently pushing the flowers into her hand.
She accepted them happily. "Merci beaucoup," she replied, cheerfully ignoring her manager fuming in the background. "I am fond of your hotel, very fond after so many visits-"
"She cannot cancel so late! We have sold tickets!" Mai began to screech, but Yuugi quickly placed a hand over her mouth and pulled her to the side.
"We had a bad engagement in Russia," Yuugi said softly, magnifying the Puppy Eyes (c) to full power. "No business, very bad press." He started clutching the older woman's hand, and Mai had to bite her lip to stop any hesitant sounds from escaping her. That kid could stop wars with his eyes. "An accident, no more, but she feel she's failed her audience..."
Resisting Yuugi was the most difficulty thing Mai had ever done, but she swore to herself that she would not budge on this issue. "She absolutely must..."
"Sedjem-tjen!"
Four heads turned to stare as a dark-skinned woman in conservative clothing made her way towards them. Isis had a commanding presence, not to mention an exotic beauty, that made people pay attention to her.
Mai, however, was not in the mood.
"What did she say?" she moaned, dragging a hand down her face.
"That's Egyptian," Yuugi offered with a shrug and a small smile.
Anzu huffed. "I cannot believe that among the five of us we cannot find one language we all understand."
Otogi stood awkwardly in the midst of the group, looking between each member and sensing the tension. Finally, when he could no longer take it, he offered, "Excuse me. Excusez-moi. En heset."
Isis sent a glare his way that could wither flowers. "Ger!" she hissed.
"Thank you!" Otogi replied pleasantly, choosing to believe that Isis had complimented him than defy the intimidating woman on what was in actuality probably fairly insulting, and backed away.
That taken care of, Isis turned back to the other three with a disapproving expression on her face. Her eyes narrowed as they landed on Mai. "You must not press her about tonight! Anzu-dono is very tired."
"Tired?" Anzu scoffed. "I'm completely exhausted!" She collapsed against the bar again, muscles trembling from fatigue. "Yuugi, please pay off the company! Be generous - the orchestra, the dancers, everybody."
Yuugi frowned and fidgeted. "But, Anzu-chan - pay? With what?"
Anzu stared fiercely at him. "You will have ample money tomorrow! Ample money!" And then, so quiet that he almost missed it, she added, "I promise."
Otogi, not wanting another fight to break out, chose this moment to make his presence known again. "Anzu-dono, may I show you to your room?" At no sign of acknowledgment from the dance, the black-haired man repeated himself. "Anzu-dono-"
Without a word, she rose from her seat and nodded at Otogi. She followed the hotel manager silently, eyes dull and vacant and filled with a sense of hopelessness. She padded along softly, looking like a puppet being pulled along by its strings when suddenly...
Suddenly...
Her eyes met with brilliant, burning scarlet. A smoldering gaze that lit something even within her cold, frozen self. For a moment, Anzu felt invigorated, alive.
But then the moment passed, her feet continuing to take her to her room even while her mind wished dearly to stay right where she was.
Yami watched her go with an appreciative glance. She was an older woman, he knew, but her life as a dancer gave her one of the most fit bodies he had ever seen on a member of the opposite sex. Of course, there was also the fact that she was the top ballerina in the world. It was amazing to have been so close to her. "Mazaki herself," he sighed.
"She always stays at Grand Hotel," came a voice from behind him, and Yami turned to see Otogi's arrogant, smirking face.
The nobleman nodded at him in recognition. "I've seen her dance," Yami murmured dreamily, remembering the fabulous performances that she had given that he had been fortunate enough to see. "What grace!"
He turned to Otogi for a sign of agreement, but got just the opposite. The manager was politely scowling at him, as interesting an expression as Yami had ever seen, large lines wrinkling his brow. "May I respectfully remind the danshaku that his bill is six months in arrears?"
"Seven," Yami shot back, and quickly walked away from the conversation. His hand glided over the surface of the puzzle around neck, as was his habit whenever anyone brought up his issues with money. The Puzzle was a prized family heirloom, the only one he had, and like hell he was going to let anyone take it away from him-!
So distracted was he by his problems that Yami didn't realize there was a person in front of him until he had bumped into him. He stumbled backwards, but a large hand stopped him from falling. Yami composed himself and looked up into warm brown eyes. "Hello, Hiroto," he greeted with a smile.
"Good morning, Yami-sama." The brunette paused to admire the pendant around the shorter man's neck. It gleamed beautiful under the light from the overhead chandelier. The urge to reach out and touch it was as strong as ever for him, but he knew his place as a commoner and kept his hands to himself, instead showing his reverence for the object in words. "It's a very handsome Puzzle, Yami-sama. It's kind of famous in the hotel. Is that solid gold?"
Yami shrugged nonchalantly. "So I have been told. It was my father's."
There was a bit of an awkward pause as Honda fidgeted, looking as though he wanted to say something but unable to put it into words. Finally, he said, "Danshaku-sama - my wife was really - well, sort of overcome by the flowers." He nodded to himself; yeah, that had sounded pretty good. "She write you as soon as it's over. Thank you, Yami-sama."
The noble raised an eyebrow. "Baby still not here yet?" His brow furrowed, his handsome features marred by his frown. "How is she?"
"Pain!" Honda replied with a rather weak laugh. "How can women stand it!" He opened mouth to say more, but at that moment Otogi caught his eye, beckoning him back to the front desk. With a small smile and a slight bow, the receptionist excused himself.
To his retreating back, Yami reassured, "It'll be alright. She's young and healthy-"
"Baron..."
Yami exhaled loudly and grit his teeth at the sound of Keith's voice. "Are you still here?"
The blond dropped a heavy hand onto his shoulder. "My employer is on the phone. He wants to talk to you." With his free hand, he stuck out his thumb and jabbed it to the left. "That telephone booth over there."
Yami narrowed his gaze as he turned around, clearly not intimidated despite the significant difference in size between him and the muscleman. With obvious disgust, he removed the offending limb from his person and scoffed. "Not now. Tell him I'll pay him when I can."
Keith's grin was the kind of thing nightmares are made of.
"You know he's Taiwanese. He talks a lot about having your balls cut off."
A pause.
"You know, come to think of it, I can spare a moment."
Looking just like the cat that got the canary, Keith placed a hand on the small of Yami's back and led him to the nearest phone. As Yami picked up the phone, he noticed Keith lurking around right outside, making sure he completed the call. With a sigh, he picked up the device and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'll be able to pay you back in full - but to do so I'd have to borrow a hundred thousand more. Why? I have a tip on stock on the New York Stock Exchange." A pause, a frown. "A hot, hot stock which is sure to go right through the roof!"
Yami was so absorbed in saving his family jewels, Puzzle and otherwise, that he failed to notice the four other rather desperate looking occupants of the phone booths next to him.
"Hello! It's me! Yes... when did you get back? Oh, I'm at The Grand Hotel on a secretarial call. Listen, remember how you used to say I always understood? Well, I'm going to steal that for a stage name: Ryou! That's going to be me! Ryou, no last name. There's something so modern, so 1928 about it! Yes, it's for when I become an artist. I want paint the figures for all those Hollywood films in America!"
"Operator, I'm expecting a radiogram from America. This is Kaiba-san, Kaiba-shachou of Chuukyou Mills, I'm just checking in... No radiogram? ...Very well. I wish to call Domino...it's in Chuukyou. The number is Domino 32."
"Min, Maison Cartier? Yes, I am calling for Mazaki-dono. Mazaki. A'a redwey new ta! Yes, the toe dancer. Anzu-dono wishes to sell some jewelry she has tired of."
"Hello."
"It is an extremely important piece of jewelry! Please put me through to your chief appraiser."
"Domino Hospital? My name is Jonouchi, Katsuya...Jonouchi! I was in Cardiology Ward 'til last night. Can I speak directly to Kajiki-sensei? Er, please."
"Well, I thought we might have a Charleston or two or three...All right then. I need some money because, you see, I'm afraid the wedding is off. She... she said she didn't want me to go to America, didn't want me to do something so unstable for a living, and I don't think we ever really connected all that well, since it was an arranged marriage... what do you mean 'am I sure it's just her?' Of course I am! I have too shown interest in other girls before! Just because I don't talk about my sexual fantasies doesn't mean I'm not attracted to girls!"
"Mokuba - hello, Noah. Yes, it's nii-sama, all the way from Tokyo. No, Mokuba, it's too expensive to tell you stories on long distance - All right: the big, white dragon went RAWR! RAWR! RAWR! Now put Kisara on the phone- Hello, Kisara? I'm at the hotel. No, no radiogram from Boston, not yet - Of course I'm upset! If we don't get the Boston merger, our company's down the drain! Time is running out!"
"Kajiki-sensei? It's Katsuya Jonouchi... No, I'm in Tokyo. Yes, I saw the specialist. The news is very, very bad. No, I'm not coming back to the hospital... not ever."
"Hello, Paradox-san? It's Danshaku Atemu," Yami sighed into the phone. "I need a little more time before I buy that stock. Yes, I understand. Time is running out.
"No!" Ryou hissed angrily, his eyes shifting back and forth to make sure no one could hear. "I'm not ill! I'm not gay!"
"No. Mazaki-dono does not go to stores. Stores come to her," Isis scowled. "Metey, today! Time is running out!"
Jonouchi grinned goofily. "It's the most expensive hotel in Asia. Even my old boss, Kaiba, is staying here."
"...Kisara, no! There is no such word! Not for us!" It was physically impossible for Kaiba to crush the phone with his bare hands, but it appeared as if he was trying his hardest to anyway. "Not for the Kaiba family is there such a word as bankruptcy!"
Ryou groaned and pulled slender fingers through his long hair. "Look, please send the money...No, it can't wait - Time is running out!"
"...Well, I'm trying to find a partner. Tell me, would pay a finder's fee if I bring in a buyer-?"
"I cashed in my saving, everything! Time is running out."
"Don't cry. I'm going to solve this."
"I gotta talk quick. It costs 580 yen a minute."
"Care for Mokuba and Noah for me and, well..."
"Thanks!"
"-know that I'm not going to mess this merger up."
"Thanks for nothing at all!"
"What? I've been sensible my entire life!"
"You don't do that, eh? I see."
"Enough sensible. See ya, sensei."
"So I have twenty-four hours."
"Dewa-netjer. Nefer gereh."
"Goodbye, Kisara."
"See ya, Domino."
Five phones crashed down on their receivers as one, and five desperate people let out a curse in chorus.
"Damn!"
I assure you, this will all make a lot more sense later on. This is a new style of writing for me, so comments and criticisms are GREATLY appreciated.
Comments and criticisms make the authoress happy in her pantalones.
-Insidiae-