title: girls just wanna have fun
summary: the fact of the matter is, her life will never be tame, and there are no two other people she would rather spend it with.
pairing: Cunishipping (Mai x Anzu x Shizuka)
other: written for s9 3/4 of the ygo fanfic contest. I'd written most of a goddesses au/humans as metaphors for countries au mix thing but it spiralled out of my control, for one, and two, I wasn't really up to putting that level of detail into anything for the past few days. So yeah, this is kinda rushed. Beta'd by the lovely Jess. concrit welcome.
oh and if anyone is curious about Anzu's shoes go to caterinasforzas dot tumblr dot com slash post 36799247366
Anzu watches the pulsating mass of bodies below, idly picking out who the good dancers are. There are very few. The beat blasts blindly through the room, uncaring of who, or what it affects. It echoes through her ears, and down the hollow spaces of her body, until it snatches away the steady thump of her heartbeat, and replaces it with the rhythm of the beat. She imagines that it must be so much worse down there, in the crowd of bodies.
She lifts her glass to her lips, and takes a quick sip, to wet her throat, more than anything else, and uncrosses her legs, noting from beneath lowered lashes who looks, and who doesn't. She sighs, and leans back, rests her head into the crook of Shizuka's shoulder. She feels a shift of limbs, and opens her eyes. Figures, that Shizuka would be reading something, even while at a club.
"This is what you get for wanting to 'slum it', you know," she murmurs, and nothing betrays the worry in her voice. They are far away enough from the main humdrum of the club goers, but close enough still, that she can speak in a low voice, and be certain that she will not be heard.
Mai snorts, and leans into her side. "This?" she says, and gestures with her hand to indicate the room, with it's clean walls, painted bright red, and it's tall ceilings, clean equipment and comfortable seating.
Anzu huffs, but says nothing, which Mai takes as her cue to take out a deck of cards, and shuffle them. Mai stops, and fans out five cards, offering them to Anzu. She smiles, and shakes her head, and feels the hair at the back of her neck rise. They are being watched. These cards are regular playing cards, but anyone who doesn't believe that Mai carries her deck around with her everywhere is a fool. Most people are fools. There are few a duelist would trust with their cards but themselves, for only they know the heart of their cards, a different heartbeat, a different tune, attuned to each duelist's needs. Anzu knew something of the sort, once, when she had stood up against Mai for the sake of Yuugi, who had a despairing look in his eye that she wanted to chase away. Anzu knows that if she calls, she will find that beat again, thrumming in tandem with hers, like the perfect dance partner.
She doesn't need to.
"Mai's right," Shizuka murmurs from her side. "This is hardly slumming it."
Anzu disagrees. The lighting is too bright, too harsh, the music terrible and the wine mediocre. Also, that half the wait staff must be on the pay list of the group watching their movements is another minus on the list. There are clubs that have poorer buildings, but a better atmosphere.
Still. There's no arguing with Mai now, not when Shizuka's taken her side. She sighs instead, and says, "What do you suppose they want?"
Mai shrugs. "The same, I suppose," she says, and leans closer to Anzu's ear. "I'd bet my Harpies-" she ignores the amused murmur of 'no you wouldn't' "-that they're another group who think that I didn't make my way here through merit alone, that I seduced and opened my legs to get here." The bitterness in her voice is reflexive, but Anzu knows, from long nights up on the phone with Mai and Shizuka that while King, as a woman, is even a lonelier pedestal than it is for a man, she has the respect of the only ones whose respect matters to her. Other duelists.
Anzu feels the curl of lips (a smile), against the shell of her ear. She blinks, and lowers her eyes, ever the image of demure maiden. "And with the good honest men in your pocket, there would be no way that their appeal against you would have received anything other than scornful laughter. So they decided you needed... Other means of convincing?" Her tone is slightly mocking.
Mai laughs. It's a bitter sound. Anzu wants to chase it away. With her lips. "Clever. It's not the first time. They tried before, a few years ago."
Anzu guesses that Jounouchi would've been dating Mai at the time.
Her eyes widen. "So-"
"Mmn."
"So that's why you chose this place," Anzu says, and smiles despite herself. She looks up, and sees Mai's tiny nod.
There's a brush of skin against her bare arms, and Shizuka has reached over her to clasp Mai's hands with her own. Anzu smiles, and presses one kiss each to both their cheeks, soft and chaste.
"Stay with me tonight?" Shizuka has a room-mate, but Mai...
Mai smiles. "I'm fairly sure my hotel room is not only bigger, but also has better views of the city than yours." That, and the tournament is tomorrow, where Mai will have to defend her title.
Anzu mock gasps. "But think of the scandal Mai."
Mai laughs. "I did."
Shizuka, eyes never leaving her notebook, interjects with "Mai's hotel is closer to campus."
That decides it then. Anzu doesn't have rehearsals until one in the afternoon, although at this stage, their company is only starting their new production. She'll have a bit of leeway.
When they leave, she notices a few others getting up to leave with them, and rolls her eyes mentally, wondering if they could be any more obvious.
Their followers attack them in the shadowy part of the street where the streetlight's glow doesn't reach them, and most people have passed by. Predictable.
There are four of them, clothed fully in black, from head to toe. Anzu wonders how they managed to change so quickly. Or perhaps, this had been another group, lying outside in wait. There are no words spoken, and it's clear that talking isn't going to work here. For one, tense moment, nothing happens, before both parties spring into action.
Neither she nor Shizuka have any weapons on them, but creativity is the mother of innovation.
Shizuka swings her bag, packed with heavy medical textbooks, at her assailant, and Anzu can't help but wince for a moment in sympathy. It passes. Even so- She's had the dubious pleasure of helping Shizuka carry her textbook bags - they're heavy.
There's no time to focus on her companions though, and her opponent has a switch blade. What he isn't counting on is that one, she's faster than him, and two, not only can she run in her pointy, spike studded heels, she can also kick with them, and hard. (They were a gift, from Shizuka and Mai. Louboutins, and more expensive then she would've ever justified on spending on a pair of shoes. Didn't mean that she hadn't wanted them, and wanted them badly.)
He goes down with a whimper.
Of the two that had aimed for Mai, one seems to have run, and the other is backed against the wall. Anzu sees the gleam of silver, thinks knife, and opens her mouth to shout, but before she can, he runs.
She blinks. His companions have run as well.
They let him go.
They stare at each other, bright eyed and adrenaline rushing through their veins.
Mai blinks. Smiles, but it's devoid of warmth. "It was a message."
"I think it's a testament to the surreality of my life that this isn't the strangest thing I've seen, or done, even though it seems like something straight out of a movie," Anzu announces, and it gets a brief smile out of Mai.
Shizuka lets out a sound of annoyance. "It's ridiculous, the way they've hounded you ever since." She latches onto Mai. "What time's your tournament tomorrow?"
They all know, of course, but it's good, to remind Mai of what she's doing all this for. The thrill of matching wits with an opponent, strategy and tactics.
Mai mumbles the answer, clearly still shaken.
"Then you can walk me to campus tomorrow. I've heard that the weather is lovely, and your match isn't even until ten, yes?"
Anzu watches from behind as they continue the walk to Shizuka's place, where they'll grab her books, and then get a cab to Mai's hotel. The steady heart of New York thrums beneath her feet, and its echoes swallow the screams of the city's seedy underbelly. There's the scent of glory seeking hiding the taste of bitter desperation, the smell of urine and marijuana that mingles with the water that tries to wash it all away, each rainy season. New York is alive, it's heartbeat echoing in every step taken, in every breath of its citizens, and in the rise and set of the sun, forever too far for even the tallest of towers to touch. Her life is still stranger than that of most, but even then, it is tamer than that of her high school years.
And she couldn't have chosen two better people to spend with it.