Disclaimer: Ego still does not own Yu-Gi-Oh. If she did, there would be lots of changes right now. *commences to doing the Yami no Yuugi eye twitch* Oh, and she'd personally insist on the manga being cheaper. *goes back to twitching*
"Ahhh, anything, take anything but the REM!" *points to fic* An idea like this for me only comes around once every broken CD player.
Note: This fic takes place somewhere… *thinks back on the original plot and realizes she's almost forgotten everything* before the current anime arch with those three dragons in America. Heck, if you only know manga, pretend the manga Egyptian arch never happened. Yeah, the memories—Yami figured they weren't a big deal. You know, he's alive, he's got friends, what more does a guy need, right? *shrugs* The plot is after Battle City I guess. *considers this and how much trouble it happens to be for her to remember two plots at once* Awe, lets just say AU and leave it there. I'll try not to make too many conventional plot references. In fact, I won't try to make any. *breaks into a sweat and crosses her fingers* Yeah….
This would be longer, but my plot notebook is currently under a large pile of clothes I'm too lazy to move. People are glaring and I'm throwing pillows at them. Where has this taken me? I am now sans any pillows or small objects, staring at my brothers' socks on top of the pile. If I wait long enough, everything will deplete on it's own. The question is, can you wait that long? Read and decide.
Oh, and I was too lazy to get this betaed, gomen. The first paragraph won't italicize either….
~!~!~
Just One More Mistake
"The back of the bus is simply fascinating. I have chosen this for my exposé since I found it the most interesting site of all. My belief is that the vehicle represents the school board and its willingness to part with some thousand's of yen to pay for the expenses of our class fieldtrip. Transporting a group of sixteen-year-olds years from graduation isn't an easy task, and it shows on the valiant bus we use. Long ago, before the first few hours of the trip, the back heater gave out and sent a resonant chill throughout the compartment not within proximity of the forward vents. I have sat there in the freezing cold, taking on each bracing wind with the bus as it rolls along hoping to one day stop pitching randomly left and right in the back wheels (which we should consider doing the favor of replacing the bolts on). I am sure I understand what it is like to be almost one with this amazing contraption pulling us along at a remarkable thirty miles an hour. From my chair I feel every shift in gear and every hopeless acceleration. I do believe I have bonded with the bus and will strive from now on to someday be able to drive her, packed full of students, on a fieldtrip to historical rural villages and interesting cities a few decades off metropolis. Believe it, this year's field trip has truly inspired me to be the best bus driver. I am glad to have kept my grades up so well to earn this time away from school and this wonderful dream for the future."
"Okay, Bakura, save your report, I need the laptop back."
I hit a few keys groggily and wait for the file to save. It's been an hour, and after two long days of this fieldtrip, that paragraph was all I could come up with for my going –to-be five-page report. The only memorable things I've learned throughout this educational experience are the value of a good coat and a few basic keyboard commands. I also have the cloth pattern of the seat in front of me memorized, but that's irrelevant.
"Now, Bakura."
I try not to get irritable at Kaiba's tone, which has begun to gnaw at my bearings of the passive optimist. I'm rational enough in my sleep-deprived vertigo to know snapping back at him isn't going to help any more than the florescent glow of the laptop has improved my eyesight. I stretch my hand nimbly across the keyboard to press another set of keys before handing the precious laptop back to an impatient owner.
"About time."
I sigh as I ignore this comment. Who cares what he has to say? He isn't angry with me, just at how long it takes my frozen fingers to type three words. I know some people would say annoyance with the speed of my typing is generally irritation directed towards me myself, but I don't. It's not my fault I'm cold, so I shouldn't be judged for it. It's something I can't control, is it not?
Maybe Otogi is right when he says I am too optimistic for my own good? I'm sorry, that's just how I prefer to think. Otogi likes to tell me I'm going to someday pay for my constant denial in every non-positive situation. Frankly, I don't care, but I won't say anything. I simply let him tirade as long as he wants about how insane he thinks I am. Some of the things he's said have turned out to be very insightful and I appreciate it.
"Five minutes till the next stop. Everyone have your bags ready to get out and to your hotel rooms. The faster you move the sooner you sleep."
I struggle harder to keep my eyes open after this announcement by the sensei in charge of managing all of us. I dimly see everyone pulling out bags and purses. I can hear Jounouchi and Yuugi trying to pull down Anzu's plumped duffle from an overhead compartment. I wonder just how much luggage she has those two toting around. It's their own fault for volunteering—or, at least, Yuugi volunteered and dragged Jounouchi along under the presumption of friendship. We all know Yuugi has too much of a height disadvantage to take care of all Anzu's bags on his own.
And speaking of the duffle bag, what's Anzu got in there, a body? Even if she's brought fifty outfits, they're all too skimpy to take up much room.
"Wait till everyone gets off before you take your baggage up, Bakura."
"Hai." I agree, leaning back and closing my eyes again. I couldn't reach my stuff if I were to try anyway. In my lap is Kaiba's briefcase (locked) and a few papers he's been looking over for the past few hours. Previously there was a laptop as well.
Another thing I've learned this field trip: How to be an excellent side table.
"Okay, everyone off. Driver side first."
I watch Yuugi-tachi get up and make their exit. I would really like to join them, my friends, and go off to my room to sleep, but I happened to have been placed with the coldest person in the class, Kaiba Seto. When I discovered this arrangement I kept asking myself why and worried. I have to worry about what Kaiba's capable of if I get him angry. We've had to share seats and rooms for this trip, and it's been very taxing on my mood, letting me know it would quite gladly kill my confidence if I were to give up in not letting these things bother me.
"C'mon," Kaiba gestures towards the aisle, grabbing his briefcase from my seat and exiting. I reach and take my small sack of random supplies, following slowly. It seems I never really do walk fast, but if this bothers Kaiba, he graciously hasn't made a point of it. Still, everyone is inside the hotel lobby while I'm dragging my suitcase out of the baggage compartment of the bus, (the driver is watching me, a faint light of recognition in his eyes. Oh yes, the white haired boy whose speed is so low below zero he'll wind up walking backwards (surprising he isn't already). Two hundred yen says he'll repeat the pace tomorrow) finally getting everything straightened just in time to catch up with Yuugi-tachi.
"Hey, Bakura-kun, having fun sitting next to Kaiba, or is the nightly sport of suitcase dragging your savior?"
I frown at Otogi's question. Jounouchi seems to agree with me. He instantly begins to complain, only he isn't trying to dismiss the uniquely worded "gosh you're slow" comment about my suitcase.
"I can't believe you've been put with Kaiba, Bakura! It isn't right. I get to sit by myself alone, having to split a two-bed room by three with Honda and Otogi while you're forced to stay with that baka for three days. We're friends, they could have put us together. At least I wouldn't make you carry my stuff the entire trip."
I nod at Jounouchi's protest. Any support is well received, even if not completely wanted. Otogi grins though, finding it hard to take Jounouchi seriously.
"Maybe Kaiba doesn't want to share two beds with three people?"
"He could get his own room!" Jounouchi snaps, "He's damn well got the money!"
This, of course, is a pebble forewarning of a landslide on its way. Lucky for it's residents, the extraordinary small, dice-shaped city of Otogi is immune to landslides. The same doesn't go for my ears.
I unwillingly listen to the argument as it starts to intensify, Jounouchi angry (screaming his heart, lungs, and vocal folds out of commission) and Otogi amused (and apparently too far deaf to realize someone's yelling at him with the omniscience of a foghorn). I don't understand why Otogi does that, tries to get people riled up, painfully loud people like Jounouchi especially. He's civil enough most of the time and one of the many enthusiastic supporters that make up Yuugi-tachi. Still, he likes to bother Jounouchi and in the blonde's defense, I see no reasonable explanation.
"Okay, everyone split up with your partners. I'll call names alphabetically and you can collect your room numbers for tonight."
I wait patiently enough through Jounouchi and Otogi's argument, as my name is the third one called (the fact I even hear it is a surprise). Kaiba comes up and grabs the room cards from me almost as soon as I have them. I don't see the significance in being the one to keep track of such small slips of plastic, but apparently he does, so I'll leave it at that. I follow him as he heads for the elevator, insane on beating the mob gradually shifting the same direction. I'm practically grabbed by the neck and yanked in as the doors close. I take one final, helpless look at Yuugi-tachi before they are sundered from my vision by the thick, hideously wallpapered door.
The way up is only three stories and should only take a few minutes at the most. Unfortunately, it isn't. Either the elevator is shooting for the zenith and we'll be reaching our destination in four hours, or it's the slowest machine of its kind. I know the school district can be stingy (I assure you, I wasn't expecting the crème de la crème here), but if this is the best mode of transportation between floors this hotel could afford, I think I'll transfer before agreeing to another field trip.
Kaiba is standing near the corner, silent and robotic. His indifference is excruciating to me. Out of every person in the class to be thrown in with, from close friends to Mary-sues, I'm stuck with my polar opposite. The condition of the elevator doesn't lighten my mood (or even affect Kaiba's). The wallpaper is a livid floral design certain to cause eye and brain damage with its extreme colors. Not only that, the light fixture completely contradicts the color scheme (well, I imagine there's a color scheme…somewhere). I don't know how much longer I can't take the tenseness of the small area. It's worse than Jounouchi's apartment and that's not a very good thing.
Finally the elevator stops and the doors open. I check my watch to see that less than a minute had passed.
That was the longest forty-nine seconds of my life.
Kaiba is immediately on the move again, almost mechanical in his activation. He makes it to our room and opens the door without so much as a glance in my direction. I collapse into the doorway after him, depositing my luggage noisily over the entrance. Kaiba throws the lot a slight glance of disapproval and I'm left kicking everything against the wall to not congest a would-be traffic area. Of course, with Kaiba as the must monotonous of roommates, it doesn't make a difference. I could be rearranging the beds for a bit of feng shui for all he cares, just as long as I don't mess with the table which he has currently set his computer consol atop. His "world" consists of a laptop, a few program disks, and papers from a briefcase. I know if I plan on sitting it's going to be on a bed or the commode as he's taken every chair for a mini workspace.
After quickly choosing a bed to inhabit for the next eleven hours and changing into nightclothes in the mini bathroom, I try to make myself as comfortable as possible in the presence of an android not likely to move for a while. I sit down and gaze at the TV silently. Oh, believe me, it isn't on or anything, I'm just watching the ever beguiling blankness of the "off" mode, letting my mind attempt to supply pictures. It's nine and I'm mentally running through all the shows this satellite dish could catch if I were to turn it on. It's kind of odd, how a hotel with slow elevators can afford such high standard entertainment. Maybe the school isn't that cheap.
Imagine my disappointment as I discover that the TV isn't all that interesting. My attention is shifting from the bed to the walls, to the roof and all those unused drawers in the breakfront supporting the television. There are a few mildly interesting prints hanging from the walls, photographs of paintings locked under glass to the preserve the authentic two thousand yen quality. The bed covers have an unusual color field of red and white poppies. Oddly enough, they make me sleepy to watch. I lay back and critique the ceiling, discovering the tiles up there prove to be the very thing in which to occupy myself counting. I was never good with sheep, so speckled tiles will do.
Suddenly the phone rings. It's an unattractive, disrupting sound that makes me yelp and roll comically off the bed. From the floor I hear Kaiba sigh at my clumsiness. I quickly try to get up and redeem a bit of my pride, but it's too far gone now to discern it's former holder in the distant horizon. I'm left with my face burning and wondering who is in the room directly downstairs, just in case I feel like burrowing into the floor. The phone is left to ring five times before Kaiba makes a dramatic show of reluctance and decides to pick it up. He doesn't commit himself to the hassle of answering, though. He simply drops it down again and swivels his chair back to the computer.
After a slight pause the phone rings again. Persistent little bugger, eh? I suppose the other line really wants to talk with one of us. I look up nervously at Kaiba as I reach for the receiver. He shows no response, no acknowledgement whatsoever of what I'm going to attempt. Before I lose my nerve, I snatch up the phone and hold the receiver to my ear.
"Moshi moshi?" {A}
There's a bit of jostling on the other line and a few people cheer. I recognize the voices of Honda, Jounouchi, and Otogi in the background. There are more people, but Otogi begins talking and drowns them out.
"Oi, Bakura, you having fun upstairs?" I frown. Yeah, loads…. "If not, Yuugi-tachi's downstairs in the dinning room. If we can get one more person down, we can convince the staff to let us have some of the continental breakfast early."
"Oh Kami-sama! Otogi-kun, it's almost nine! Why are you all going to eat now?" I ask, severely past confused. Kaiba takes a moment to throw one of his infamous "looks" my direction and I remind myself to keep my voice down.
"Because we can have it now, Mahout." {B}
I'm sorry, I just don't see the logic of this nighttime eating jamboree.
"Hurry up with the phone, it's distracting."
I blink moronically at Kaiba who's suddenly decided to speak. Otogi is still pleading with me to come down.
"Gomen, Otogi-kun. I'm tired." This is very true. "I just want to sleep."
Otogi doesn't say anything to this. For a few seconds I'm shocked. I finally realize the phone has gone dead. I look up to see the limp wire in Kaiba's hand as he tosses it aside. I can't help but grow frustrated.
"What was that for?"
"Please refrain from speaking, Bakura. I'm busy."
I watch Kaiba's resolute expression as he once again slips from reality and into his own world of finances and binary codes. If I were braver, I'd unplug his computer—well—if I were stupid I'd do that, if I had a death wish. I am not though. I know arguing will not work because Kaiba will not listen. I know physical hostility will not work because I'm not a violent person. No, what I'm reduced to is an easy to ignore glare guaranteed to frighten weak hearted bunny slippers and Styrofoam cups made up into bucket head puppets.
I lie back again and continue trying to count the ceiling tiles, more to calm myself down than anything. Soon the only sounds are my muttered math and Kaiba's lightening fingers as they try to type their way to some cut-off date and smoke it with a vengeance. I don't understand what occupies him so much. What possibly takes up so much of his time that he can't do anything else? Why'd he even agree to participate in this fieldtrip if he wasn't planning on doing anything? It isn't like he'll get brownie points for sitting through everyone's eager appreciation of our next stops. He could be making all his deadlines more efficiently at Kaiba Corp and I could have Jounouchi as my partner. Not only would I actually have information for my report, I would be finding it considerably easier to sleep without the light on.
Well, unless I was dragged off to the midnight breakfast.
I still don't know the reason for that. Who's going to have muffins and cereal for a midnight snack when you can have it exactly the same in the morning like normal people? Maybe that's just something far too complicate for my ever-loosening grasp of that thing called practicality to convene towards a sensible excuse (even if I see no reason for why I think this. What isn't practical about eating breakfast at the conventional time?). Jounouchi, Honda, and Otogi are well reputed for their appetites and the ability to destroy entire villages in a feeding frenzy (not too different from piranhas at the dinner bell). Maybe I need the mindset of one who frequently gorges on food (or whose mind often tends to think about such a thing) in order to really understand.
I've never advertised myself as a realist though, so instead of coming up with anything that's, for instance, logical, I could maybe come back with a hundred eccentric explanations instead of something with the faintest hint of actuality. I believe in eating when you have to, not when at all possible. That's probably some of the logic that results in my acquiescence and rare attempts at self-indulgence. Of course, I'm not too sure if Jounouchi and those two are selfish or a bit too obsessive. Maybe they enjoy the irregular eating habits?
A little voice in my head thinks not and tells me they're just your standard example of a sixteen year old, that the only reason I'm not so crazy about the same things is because I'm the one who's out of the ordinary. You always hear about the notoriously infinite depths that replace the stomachs of teenage boys, where stuff goes down and never really reaches the bottom till middle age. Either I don't share the universal image or Tousan's and my own cooking have hardened my unfortunate stomach beyond all trust.
Alarming as it sounds, that could be it.
"Here," Kaiba offers suddenly, swiveling back from the table, "You can work on your report while I get ready for bed."
I look across the room at Kaiba's workspace as he gets up and takes his suitcase to the bathroom. Everything has been cleared away without my notice, the only thing left being the laptop.
"Er, domo arigato." I thank slowly, creeping off the bed and sitting down. I quickly open my report file as Kaiba nods and closes the door. In less than a second, my first sardonic little paragraph is in front of me. I reread it all with a grim smirk.
"Sensei's going to love learning about the bus." I mutter to the room, not loud enough to keep from being drown out by the noise of the shower running through the wall.
~~I never knew you had such high expectations for yourself, Bakura. A bus driver, really, who would have guessed? And here you had me thinking you were more of the Egyptology type~~
I ignore this comment by the Sennen Ring spirit who has become less active and lusting for world domination these days. He's become more annoying, if anything, adding his own say in everything without warning or invitation. I keep reminding myself of the bright side that at least he's not hurting anyone. There have been no gaming incidents for quite some time now, which is a good thing. I just wish the spirit would stay in his reality and leave mine alone like it seemed he was going to do a few weeks ago.
I find it difficult to think of anything on my report. Another voice has decided it wants to do all this for me. Before I'm half aware of what I've written, I have a second paragraph that isn't too different from its forerunner.
"Another thrill was those hotel rooms. Top notch, that place we had the second night. Elevator service was spectacular and everything was so tastefully decorated! The collage of several different styles in one block was startling in its sudden change from livid floral colors to muted blends and random settings done in an oddly unique attempt at avoiding the dullness of the flat monochrome you see in your standard rooms. I applaud the effort. It's surely a place I will never forget. You can look forward to my house being based after all of this. Forget Venice and its frighteningly beautiful watermarks, the chateaux in the Loire Valley are nothing, as this hotel has been the best of all. It is a gem of it's kind. I also hear, if you can get ten people downstairs, no matter what the time, you are served the continental breakfast. Is that great or what?"
I frown at how undersized and frivolous my report is sounding. I hastily choose to stop before it gets any worse, closing out the program and turning the computer off. I close the laptop and tiptoe back to my bed, under the covers and watching the wall as Kaiba silently reenters the room. I wait for the light to go out and him to slip noiselessly into his bed.
Suddenly there's the unmistakable sound of Kaiba's briefcase opening and the laptop starting up again. I resist the strong urge to sigh loudly and try to distract the insomniac going back to work. The clock tells me it's past eleven.
If I were with Jounouchi right now I'd probably be asleep, continental breakfast or no.
~!~!~
{A}: Moshi moshi means hello on the phone. (I decide spacing was convenient and looked cleaner, but it's not necessary.) I've seen this spelt mushi, but I kind of really don't think that's it. *nervous grin* Heh….
{B}: Mahout is elephant driver in Indian. Yep, the ever persistent pet name for Bakura-kun in all my fics wherever Ryuujis and Ryous come together. You people knew you'd see it eventually. –Anyhow, I picture a nice Jack Sparrow like tone in that plea. "But we can have it now, Mahout." *optimistic grin* See? *people blink at her and step away*
Endnote: And that's the beginning…. Short, but to the point.
*blink* Well, I hope there was a point.
~Ling no Yong~