A/N: As soon as I finish fighting with my computer, I will publish the next Seven Deadly Sins chapter and hopefully a Harry Potter or Percy Jackson oneshot. In the meantime, enjoy this. Lots of love to my beta, RTOC. You know who you are. If I was not utterly broke I'd get you some chocolate. XD I'll work on it, K?
Mrs. Licowitz, the old guidance counselor, had retired. The Domino High School student body was on edge to see who replaced her.
"Maybe it's some old mean hag-woman."
"Maybe it's the principal in disguise. The budget IS low after all."
"Maybe it's aliens… or zombies!"
True, that was one of the odder theories. But the most humorous part of the scenario was that for once in their lives, the students WANTED to get sent to the counselors' office. Because no one had ever seen this person before; for all they knew, it COULD be an alien or a zombie sitting in that small room.
Why, then, was the student that got sent that day the one person that didn't want to go?
The waiting room outside the counselor's office was tiny, wood-paneled and filled with motivational posters.
"Silent and listen are spelled with the same letters," Bakura read aloud, his sharp British accent injecting sarcasm into the phrase. "Now isn't that slightly obvious? Spelling happened in third grade."
"All right, Yami. That's enough. Don't you want me to deal with the counselor lady?" Ryou's voice tempted him inside his head. Yami Bakura switched places with the meeker boy. Ryou sat down, regretting his decision to handle this without his yami's help almost immediately.
A few minutes later:
"Bakoorah, Ry-Ry-"
"It's pronounced Ry-oh Ba-koo-rah" Ryou said kindly.
The secretary smiled nervously. "Yes, that. Go on in."
Bakura walked into the counselor's office. A blast of cheap air-conditioning whipped through his pale, spiky hair and toyed with the sleeves of his shirt.
"May I see your pass?"
Bakura turned his head slightly, his brown eyes narrowing intelligently at the sight of an absurdly short, Asian-looking woman sitting in a chair in front of an old plastic desk.
"Here, oh... and thank you," was the shy teenager's only comment as he thrust the green slip into her hand.
"Nice to meet you, Ryou Bakura," she said in a nasal voice, almost pronouncing his name right, but not quite. "Do you prefer Ryou, Bakura, Kura or-"
Ryou winced as he felt a blast of heat rip through his very soul, and he was overpowered almost immediately by his yami.
"I DO NOT LIKE THE NAME 'KURA.' YOU WILL NOT CALL ME 'KURA.' EVER. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, YOU PATHETIC MORTAL?"
The small woman was shocked into silence.
"Mortal?" she finally asked.
"Yes."
The counselor squinted at her pad of paper and scribbled "Has the mental illusion of immortality."
"All right, Bakura. Why are you here?"
"Stealing."
It was a terse and one-word answer, his voice sliding cockily out of his mouth and hovering almost dangerously in the air. Was it just her imagination, or did his eyes glow gold for a second?
"Stealing what?" the woman pressed, as she wrote.
"Stealing the headmaster's car, taking it apart and putting it back together on the roof. Then, I kidnapped his wife at gunpoint, dragged her to a convenient television not too far away, and made her watch Barney for three hours straight."
He kept an entirely blank expression the entire time. "Poker face" didn't even describe it.
"My notes say you're here for course selection," the woman smiled gently. "You're lying, aren't you?"
"Yep," the taller boy said nonchalantly.
"So what careers are you looking at in the future?"
"I want to collect all seven Millennium Items, rule the world, establish my own kingdom free of pink things, Wendy's, and love, slaughter my arch-nemesis who I've been quarreling with for three thousand years, have my haircut trademarked, and destroy the television showJersey Shore for all eternity." Bakura deadpanned.
The woman's shock was alight in her eyes for a second.
"Seriously...?"
"Well, that's my future, but really," he said, emotion welling in his brown eyes, "I just want to be a high-school careers counselor."
Mortals are so much fun to mess with... Bakura thought.
"Bakura, really. You have to tell me."
"Bu-but," Bakura stammered, convincing tears building up on his lashes, "you're supposed to respect my o-op-opinion!"
"Here," the lady said, handing him a tissue.
The tissue abruptly and spontaneously exploded.
She handed him another.
The same thing happened.
And again, to at least a dozen more.
"Why do my tissues keep exploding?" the lady cried in bafflement.
"No clue," the suddenly tear-free Bakura said angrily. "You know WHAT! You're forcing me into a decision! You want me to be enslaved in some boring job my whole life! You want me to become nothing! You are giving me a false sense of self and you are not respecting me! I hate you! You are a mean, selfish little woman who hurts children all over the world! You call my visions of the future poor! You demoralizing idiot! You know what! I'm just gonna quit school! 'Why do my tissues keep exploding?' You are such a cruel jerk to deflect the subject back to me! I am actually not real, I am a dream sent to hurt you and guidance counselors all over the world!"
"H-here's your course schedul-"
"I DON'T WANT IT! MY LIFE SHOULD NOT BE TRAPPED ON A PIECE OF PAPER! YOU CONTINUE TO HARM MY VERY SOUL'S ESSENCE WITH YOUR CRUELTY! MY PARENT PASSED AWAY IN A THIRTY-CAR CRASH WHEN I WAS YOUNG! YOUR VILENESS IS INFECTING MY INNOCENT MIND AND HURTING MY POOR HEART! YOU ARE A HORRIBLE PERSON TO DO THIS TO ME! I HAVE EXPERIENCED FAR MORE PAIN IN MY LIFE THAN YOU HAVE! YOU ARE FORCING ME DOWN A PATH I DON'T WANT TO GO!"
With a convincing tear display, Bakura slammed the door on his way out.
Oh, yeah, go me. That doorslam was a good touch. That pull-at-her-heartstrings speech was even better than the frightening tactics I used on the last one. I deserve an Oscar. Damn, that was quite the show! Bakura, you sly devil... the teenager mused.
The next day, there was another vacancy for the post of counselor, and reports were that she was in a mental hospital for hallucinations. The only thing she would say to anyone was "Why do my tissues keep exploding?"
-The End-