SOS: If you understand ANYTHING in this fic, you might want to talk to a psychiatrist. Because, to tell you the truth, I don't think anyone will. x.X
And, you know what? I should have been working on What If? or Anzu in Wonderland when I wrote this. Heh.
Disclaimer: Seto's Obbsessive Stalker does not own any of the characters in this story, but does happen to own a peanut butter sandwhich and a half-eaten tootise pop that she'd trade for them.
Anzu sighed, hands running through the warm, soapy water. It was like a ritual, she thought with humor, as she began brushing the soap onto the plates. Everyday right after dinner she would get up, turn on the sink, and began cleaning the dishes. After that, she would take a warm shower, and relax for the entire evening until it was deemed a good time to go to bed in order to prepare for the next day of college life.
Pictures lined the walls of her small, cramped living space. Most of them were of her and her friends, all the way from photographs from before Duel Monsters was even heard of in Japan, to Duelist Kingdom and Battle City, from their senior year of high school and until the few weeks before she was set to move to America. Her favorite one, however, was sitting in her room on her nightstand; nowhere near at hand at the moment.
Contemplation wasn't something Anzu liked much, since it always led to the one thing she gave up: Yuugi. Taking stabs at her dreams had been what she had given up her childhood friend for. No matter how much he promised that he would, one day, visit her, she knew it was impossible. Suroguku hardly had the money to send Yuugi to America, and the poor boy had to balance two jobs to pay for his own college. And she couldn't afford to take the trip, either; to do that would be to spend the money she had saved up for her next year at Julliard.
But now her thoughts had wandered to the boy.
She mumbled something to herself as she retreated her hands from the sink, the plug in her fingers. She watched the water sink down the drain until all that was left was leftover soap, sliding ever so slowly towards the center. She stared at it for a moment, watching the light in her kitchen hit it and create a somewhat of a rainbow effect.
Too bad you can never touch a rainbow. It's like trying to catch a shadow.
Shadows. Yuugi's shadow. For the longest time, she had thought that it was Yuugi's shadow she wanted; not the cheerful little kid whom casted it, which held the shadow and helped it whenever help be needed. Yami no Yuugi; the Darkness of Yuugi. It was true; she really did for some time. But after that... had she really? When she saw him fight more battles, win more games, was it him that she had fallen for, or the small boy who had always been by his side?
She wipped her hands off on a nearby towel, and set it down next to the sink. She began to stroll though her apartment towards her bedroom, and take the shower that her daily ritual demanded. Her fingers ran across the bumps on the walls, feeling each one that came into its way. America was absolutely nothing like Japan; the walls were different, the beds were different, the jobs were different, expectations were different, the people were different...
"You're just fine the way you are..."
Those five minutes. Because of that Kujaku Mai, who had decided to play matchmaker with Makazi Anzu and Moutou Yuugi. To think, the woman that she had once-loathed and wish would go to Hell and take Pegasus with her, was the reason she had been forced to push aside any notions about loving the Pharaoh. She had loved the boy behind the title, the boy who had never been the one to right the wrongs of bullies and thieves.
The boy that stood for everything that was innocent.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The clock on the wall read seven thirty-two; passed the time she usually was in the shower. She supposed it really shouldn't matter, even if she was religious about her schedule; she had no roommates, so there would be no one to get frustrated with her no matter what she did. Anzu had no one near to tell her that it was okay to pine over people you may never see again, and that is was fine for your heart to send you ten kajillion different signals at any given time.
"I love you Anzu. Will you be my wife when you come back to Japan?"
She had broken down and cried at those words. She wasn't sad, though; quite the opposite. It was the happiest moment in her life.
But love was like chasing shadows.
Because neither could still afford to get to the other.
SOS: Did you understand it? I hope so. I never thought I'd ever be doing a drabblefic where, when Anzu's the main character, she won't be horribly confused or tortured to a point of hilarity. Go figure.
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