He began the evening untangling with the loom bands that held his hair into the infamous spikes, and returned them to the kit he had insisted on packing. The comb creaked, threatening to snap as both hands attempted to drive it through a knot fixed with hairspray. The spirit was beginning to doubt himself, wondering if sprayable adhesive had been anywhere near the bathroom when he had woken up.
"I wonder how the Pharaoh is able to change his appearance so willingly?" He asked aloud, glancing to the ring sitting on the counter. He rolled his eyes at no answer, and continued to brush. The sounds echoing around the miniature en-suite were inhuman, like a snake hissing at someone tearing velcro. The poor, abused white hair slowly reclaimed it's normal position, falling softly around his face and shoulders. It felt like fairy floss, or cobwebs tickling his nose. He sneezed, opening his eyes to a stranger's reflection. Caught off guard, relaxed, his expression was as soft as his host's.
"It would be a lot more convenient than this," he added, tapping the triangle to provoke a response. He lifted the millennium item to the ceiling, entertaining the idea of reception being bad.
Throwing his blue jacket to the floor, he returned the ring to around his neck and pulled on the creamy sweater. His nose wrinkled as a smell hit, and his hands sought out the deodorant from the travel bag.
"Would you like to front?" Bakura asked again, leaning forward to find the reassuring imprint of the ring against the sweater.
"No," a quiet voice in the back of his mind responded.
"He speaks!" Bakura exclaimed, only to feel the mental connection dissipating at Ryou's will. He offered any bribe he could think of: completed homework, a cafe lunch, several new booster packets he neglected to say that he had already bought. He could see the mental door in his mind become a metal bulkhead, and barbed wire fences grow out of the ground. Scowling, Bakura closed his own side of the link. He began playing with his hair, fluffing it and curling a strand around his around his finger.
"Fine, I suppose I had nothing planned for the next few days," he mumbled, focusing on the mirror. He squinted with his regular, malicious expression. Once he had relaxed his scowl, his cheeks fell in response and appeared softer. Opening his eyes widely was a physical challenge, until he opened the mirror cabinet and retrieved the pair of clear reading glasses. Everything became sharper, as well as the thin wire frame making his appearance even more demeaning.
He practised smiling, fetching the phone from his back pocket to check how it looked once he closed his eyes. The photo itself wasn't bad. He hesitated, jumping onto the unmade bed, and flicked open a messaging app. It didn't count as a selfie, he reminded himself before posting the image with a caption about new glasses. Tea liked it immediately, while Wheeler made some antagonising four eyes comment. Yugi was first to defend him.
He smirked, rewarding the Pharaoh's host with a heart react.
"He's going to invite us to the game store after school now," he narrated, counting down from three before the notification appeared.
GameKing: We just got a new capsule monster campaign in store, want to check it out tomorrow? New glasses look great, don't worry about Joey!
Bakura scoffed again, rolling over to concentrate on his response.
ChangedHeart: Thanks Yugi! I can't wait to see the store!
"Do you think that sounded forced?" He asked, rolling over again to wrap his arm affectionately around a pillow. His knuckles were white, strangling the bag of feathers with enough force to snap a spine.
GameKing: Awesome, see you tomorrow!
He releasing the pillow's throat. The smile returned as he kicked off his host's socks and quickly fixed the mountain of blanket. He looked around the room for pyjamas, grimacing at a slightly yellowed singlet in the corner. He sacrificed his dignity and sweater, hanging them off the door to aerate. Crawling into bed in just yesterday's shirt, insomnia found him staring at the ceiling.
"I think you'll enjoy school tomorrow. You have that history test, which I expect you to do fine on considering the notes I prepared you, and a playdate with the Pharaoh," he rattled off to the ring, cold against his stomach.
"Will you go?" he asked. The ring stayed quiet. He found himself in a rare moment of total isolation, and quickly came to despise it.
"Goodnight, hikari."
"Good morning, father!" Bakura cheered to the false paternal figure, hopping as he pulled the matching sock onto his left foot.
"Good morning, son," the Father said, taken aback, lowering his newspaper sceptically. Bakura smiled back, only darkening the look on his Father's confused face.
"I slept in, I'm afraid I have to rush off!" He said, swinging a bag over his shoulder. He attempted to beeline for the door, but the hulked figure sprang from the table and walled his exit.
"Wait, not before you take your medication!" His step-mother's voice came like a song from the kitchen, carrying over a narrow tray of pills with a glass.
"Spit it out." Ryou's voice entered his mind so quickly and sharp that the spirit physically recoiled. He smiled at the venom on his voice, which was something like a kitten attempting to hiss. Emotions were forced into his mind through the ring, things that he did not feel himself but enough to make the shared body cautious. He looked up cutely at his host's father.
"Must I?" He asked meekly.
"Ryou, they help you," his father insisted, with sternness fed by desperation.
"I don't like them, yami," Ryou's voice interjected again, using the pet name he and Mutou had created. Bakura had made the mistake of allowing the endearment to waver his decisions previously, thus the host thought it a way to get whatever he wanted.
He smiled at his father and accepted the blue and white pill, swallowing whole with a swig of sour orange juice.
"Done!" He chimed, going as far as to plant a kiss on the man's stubbled cheek before running out the door. The man could have easily snapped his neck with how fast he turned to watch the shadow vanish, pale as his hand brushed where the kiss had been.
"I think he's doing better," his step mother said, smiling as she began refilling the day-by-day pill container. His father shook his head.
He didn't particularly like the street Ryou lived on. It was too clean; the elderly stopped their gardening to wish him good morning, and even the garbage disposal man found reason to smile as he put another bottle into the recycling. Even in fall, it smelt like blossoming jasmine. Bakura recognised the street, no different to the one he walked several thousand years ago, where he and a dozen other street urchins would imagine one day living in the finest two story house with tapestry curtains. There had always been the smell of freshly cut melon due to the family owned orchard on the corner. The woman who owned it had the misfortune of losing all of her children to one disease or another, and always gave the band of thieves fruit on a warm day.
He clenched his hands, as though they were somehow still sticky from holding the rind.
"Morning, Ryou!"
"Good morning, Yugi!" He answered sincerely, even as his line of sight dropped to the puzzle. It was no surprise to the smaller boy, who found himself staring at the impression of the ring. Bakura had learnt that it was quite normal for the two hikari to subconsciously acknowledge the millennium items, so he was safe in savouring his proximity to the puzzle. It did not spark blue electricity to defend itself, or hold any of its usual shadowy charge.
"It's strange, isn't it. Once they're hibernating, they really are just flashy pieces of jewellery," he said aloud, more to itself as his hand inched towards the puzzle. Yugi turned away without any malicious intention.
"I guess I've never thought about it that way," he replied. The two fell into sync, walking to school as they discussed anything on their mind.
A brilliant piece of fiction, but does not meet the assignment criteria.
The pages creased as his grip tightened, making small tears around the edge of the essay book. The prompt was simple enough: Evaluate the impact of the Ancient Egyptian belief of the Pharaoh as an incarnation of God in relation to power. He'd chuckled, putting away the summary book he had previously prepared. It was a creative essay on the massacre of 'Cul Elma', censoring the creation of the millennium items with some excuse about human bones making the Great Pyramid stronger. He wouldn't have put the act past the Pharaoh, and wrote it with Ryou's brilliant understanding of the English language. Both had become masters in the language through years of bring trapped in museums; on display or as a child waiting for his father to finish work. It was graphic: horrendously graphic. As the image developed his heart rate had become painful, his breath like wheezes and his collar became sticky with sweat. When the time came to to hand the paper in, Tea had been kind enough to take it while Yugi asked if he was alright.
Fiction, he thought. A piece of fiction.
"How'd you go?" Yugi asked with a sympathetic smile, surveying Bakura's face before he asked.
"Not well," he said quietly. He laughed, hoping it would reduce his urge to crawl over the desk and strangle the teacher with his bare hands.
"Neither," Yugi said with a somewhat embarrassed chuckle, looking back to an angrily circled 63%. "I guess it's hard to stick to the facts when you know-"
Bakura mumbled some sort of agreement, re-reading his own narrative. Pharaoh Aknamkanon had been highlighted with several question marks in red pen. He wondered if it had been the tale of the nameless Pharaoh that led to Mutou's failure. As the name registered in his mind, Yugi cleared his throat.
"Can I read it?" He asked a second time, leaning towards his desk slightly.
Bakura crushed the paper, threw it into his desk, and slammed it shut with enough force to attract the attention of every single member of the class. Yugi flinched at the sound, returning to his own seat.
"I'd rather you didn't," Bakura said sheepishly attempting to play off the over-reaction. The contrast was enough to make Yugi laugh, albiet nervously.
"No worries, I shouldn't have asked," he said, simultaneously giving and asking for forgiveness. With his naive eyes and general innocent disposition, Bakura realised the strategist had somehow tricked him into forging another memory that would later remind him his feud was with the Pharaoh, not his poor host. He cursed the wicked genius in his mind, of whom he felt the same strange affinity towards as his own hikari.
"Can I read yours?" He asked with Ryou's sweet voice. Yugi's eyes became blank, despite his smile widened politely. He raised his desk lid, placed the essay inside, and silently closed it without blinking or breaking eye contact.
"I'd rather you didn't," Yugi replied, suddenly animated again with his arms stretching behind his back and an over-acted yawn. Bakura snorted, covering his mouth in horror as the body's cheeks became comically red by reflex. He glared at the corner of the room furious with only himself, despite the bell-like laughter erupting from the Pharaoh's host - truly, some sort of criminal mastermind.
"Are you sure you're alright?"
He wondered how many times Mutou had found an excuse to ask him the question over the course of the day, having lost count somewhere around eighteen.
"Of course! It's not like it was a deeply personal anecdote or anything," he responded, and the dramatic irony was not lost. Yugi looked away and itched the back of his neck with a knowing, humiliated gaze. Bakura, having to find some way to retain his pride as a thief king, had already read the majority of Yugi's essay against his will. His verdict was the mark was unfortunately deserved, however mostly due to Yugi's abuse of language. He doubted the his enchanting story of stone tablet trading cards as a weapon against evil was of any benefit either.
Familiar with being cut off within the gang-like cohort he called his friends, Yugi had no trouble rattling off whatever came to his mind without Bakura having to contribute to the conversation. It was a summary of the day's adventures and disagreements, allowing Yugi to frantically express his opinions while the spirit of the ring agreed mindlessly. His own opinion mirrored Mutou's so often that he found the one-sided conversations almost enjoyable, and felt no need to point out this was the second or third time they had circled the block of storefronts.
They had almost past the arcade completely when the Pharaoh's hikari froze, and grabbed his sleeve to pull Bakura back aggressively. If it had been anyone else, Bakura reassured himself, he would have obliterated them. The noise that escaped his mouth, more akin to a squeak than a warning of total annihilation, was a reflex of the host's body.
"There's a new game in the back," Yugi said the life-changing revelation with utter seriousness, glancing upwards to plead for permission.
"Well, now we have no choice but to enter," Bakura agreed with equal seriousness. He squinted even with his glasses to make out shapes of neon red glare, ghosting Yugi towards Zombie Phantom Hunter 2: Return From Hell.
The regular arcade clerk didn't need to look up as they passed, offering a quick hello and not expecting a response. They thundered past, breaking into a run, tokens already in their hands bouncing off the light of a dozen monitors. Yugi assumed the position of player one and they began the game in perfect synchronicity.
"I'm useless at shooters," Bakura confessed characteristically, but honestly. In the possession of the plastic controller he tensed reflexively, expecting recoil, aiming as though in physical conditions. Yugi's stance was just as ridiculous to onlookers, but would have been useless in a real gun battle.
"It's not about how good you are, it's the fun!" Yugi chimed as the first wave of demonic zombie fusions charged towards them.
Bakura consciously corrected his aim to include the game's poor calibration, grinding his teeth together as the combo tracker began to flash brighter with each kill. He ghosted Yugi's character for any hope of survival, or even reaching the second level.
"Behind you," he said, attempting to shoot the two legged monster that had fallen from the ceiling. Yugi's character quickly turned and finished the creature off for him - Bakura swore even the character was smirking at him.
"Thanks," Yugi shouted over the game, feeling the pulsation of each gunshot through the ground. He looked over to Bakura's screen to check his position but faltered as his eyes settled on Bakura's score, crawling within a few kills of his own. Bakura watched him back sceptically, only for Yugi to smile and return to his own screen.
His controller shuddered, Bakura only processing what had happened as he saw his character fall to the ground in a poorly animated pool of blood.
"Did you just-"
"It was an accident," Yugi said, continuing to shoot at the monsters now feasting on Bakura's corpse. He returned the controller to it's resting position, which automatically muted the dying gurgles of his character.
"Yugi Mutou, that's cheating," Bakura argued, crossing his arms with a bizarre, impressed smile.
"Not if it was an accident."
"You shot me in the head!"
"Accidently," Yugi insisted with a smile, inserting another token to activate the player one secondary gun. He transformed into a dual gun-weilding madman, score multiplying ridiculously with several combination bonuses activated. The yami casually leaned over the controls, giving the occasional cheer when a demon head exploded in slow-motion detail.
"You know, when you start getting competitive, you look a bit like the spirit of the ring," Yugi declared, opening conversation in the midst of the last boss battle. Bakura looked at Yugi in surprise, and then to the crowd that had gathered to see the legendary king of games in action. None had raised an eyebrow over their conversation, most likely silent over the roar of the arcade.
"So do you," he said back with little sincerity. He doubted Yugi would ever be able to pull off the glare of the Pharaoh, or the firm stance that came with instinctual leadership. He found something reassuringly 'Yugi' about the smaller hikari's general nervousness but joyful disposition. The game began to lag, and the crowd's murmurs turned to a roar as Yugi make quick work of a boss battle intended to be so complex the computer itself struggled to load. They chanted the embarassing tag King Of Games as he entered it into the high scores, Bakura applauding softly as he tried to figure out how the devil what he had just seen was even possible.
It was nearly sundown when he was next dragged from his thoughts, watching the Pharaoh's hikari greedily slurp a frozen coke from the local corner store.
"Should you be drinking that?" he asked with a tone of very genuine concern. Yugi looked almost confused for a moment, looking at the drink before a sheepish grin crept over his face.
"Probably not," he admitted, hanging over the grotesquely large cup. As Bakura sampled blue heaven, trying for the life of him to figure out what the actual taste was, Yugi pulled out a small blood glucose meter. The great thief made himself comfortable on a ledge that Yugi had no hope of reaching as they waited for the monitor to finish scanning. He had given up pretending he had any intention of giving the shushee back, taking another long gulp as he looked over Yugi's shoulder.
"If you wanted some you could've just asked," he mumbled, covering the small LED screen with his hand. His shoulders seemed to droop with the burden of consciously having to check his insulin levels, but the relieved sigh suggested that Bakura had stopped him before any damage was done. He gave a thumbs up, and the spirit of the ring caught himself unknowingly smiling back.
"I'm just looking out for your health," Bakura said with exaggerated concern, waving the half-empty plastic cup in his face.
"An honourable friend," Yugi said with biting sarcasm. What began as chuckling turned to a howl of pain as Bakura's throat threaten to close over with cold, and the dreaded brain freeze took full hold. Yugi cackled, still wheezing as Bakura pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to reduce the throbbing headache. Yugi checked his watch absentmindedly, swearing as his eyes somehow became wider
"I told Gramps I'd watch the store tonight, I'm really sorry but I think I have to bail," he called, already awkwardly trying to run up the street. Bakura gave a dismissive gesture, recollecting his back and turning back in the other direction.
"It's fine, go!" Bakura called back reassuringly.
"It was really nice hanging out, Bakura!"
"We should do it more often,"
"I don't give you nearly enough credit, Ryou. People are exhausting," Bakura said with an exaggerated sigh, letting his facial muscles return to their resting scowl.
"Everything's exhausting," a quiet voice answered in his mind. Bakura quickly restricted his own mind link in hopes his hikari wouldn't have detected his immediately relief. The straw gurgled empty as he headed down the street, rolling his eyes at the newfound flood of angst flooding through the connection.
"What happened to that positive mindset thing you were doing?" he asked, staring as a streetlight flickered to on above him. As quickly as the wave of depression has overcome him it retreated as Ryou fell silent again. Sighing, the spirit of the ring took a moment to look for stars through the city smog, before crossing the road a new way home.
"I crave another of these novelty drinks," he said aloud, spinning the last glob of frozen slush around the plastic cup.
He enjoyed brushing Ryou's hair when he had been the one in possession. The comb slid through the damp, freshly conditioned mess of knots far more easily than it had the previous day, and Bakura was meticulous in parting their hair directly down the centre. It should be a dot-to-dot, he boasted, if someone were to drive an axe down his face they should end it with perfect halves.
As he flicked his fringe back to dry, Bakura faltered. He stared at the mirror, checking his own reflection. He pushed his glasses further up his nose, and then down, taking them off entirely to rub his eyes and then wipe condensation from the mirror itself.
"Hey, aibou, when I'm happy I do almost look like you," he mused, chuckling softly at the uncannily warm smile as he spoke.
"I can front," Ryou said sternly, cold but almost confident. Bakura raised an eyebrow at the mirror, performing to his reflection.
"Are you certain? I haven't eaten yet, you can't just go to bed," he said cautiously, quickly pulling a blue and white striped shirt over the sickly pale torso.
"I can do it."
"Alright," Bakura said with a shrug, the ring still pressed against his skin glowing warm in a moment of brilliant white light. He examined himself through his mind's eye, Ryou wearing heavy bags and a sullen expression. There was none of Bakura's lingering admiration of himself, the hikari quickly dropping his gaze and exiting the en-suite without bothering to dry his hair.
"You almost look like me when you're tired," Bakura teased through the mind link in a feeble attempt to maintain conversation.
"I suppose so," Ryou said quietly, massaging his cheek as though the bags might vanish. He blinked slowly, and rubbed his eye. Bakura frowned, walking as his shadow as he shuffled to the neat bed.
"Hikari, you have to eat," he said sternly, watching the smaller counterpart climb onto the sheets and fall to his side. Ryou shook his head, face half buried under the pillow opposed to using it. He stared at Bakura in spirit form, standing across the room, and made no attempt to feign sleep. Skeletal fingers wrapped around the duvet covers, the entire body seeming yo melt with the weight of his breath. "Yadonushi-"
"Goodnight," Ryou lied back, closing his mind link and trapping the spirit back in the millennium item.