A Little Help from a Friend

by Dustbunny3

[One-shot][Gen] Anzu realizes her dream of going to school in New York, but the first day is more like a nightmare. Her luck isn't all bad, though, as coincidence contrives to send a friend her way.

A/N: This was the first and only fic I ever wrote for my 30_distractions claim. Long time ago, that; I feel old just thinking about it. As I recall, this was supposed to lead in to a series of connected stories that dealt with Anzu and Mai as roommates in New York. Ah, memories. If I ever really get back into the fandom, I'd like to give that a shot. For now, here's this.

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Ever since she was a little girl, Anzu had fallen asleep to dreams of studying dance in New York City.

It was just her luck that this nightmare would occur while she was awake.

Anzu's parents still hadn't gotten tired of joking about having to peel their only daughter off the ceiling the day she received her acceptance letter from Juilliard. Anzu just smiled and rolled her eyes and, yes, maybe she blushed a little, but for the most part just took the whole thing graciously. And if she'd wound up every night before her departure to the States by jumping up and down on her bed and squealing like a five-year-old, well, her parents should really just be grateful that she was making all that noise alone. But at the moment Anzu couldn't recall why she'd been ecstatic, and the only thing stopping her from just letting herself fall upon the dirty New York City pavement was knowing that no one would bother to peel her off.

Everything had started off with such promise. Though she still felt the sting of leaving her friends across the Pacific, being at the student orientation at Juilliard (one of the most prestigious schools for performing arts in the world! Where she had been accepted! Where she was going to be studying dance, because they had accepted her, just like she'd always dreamed that they might, and when she graduated she was off to Broadway, she could just feel it in her bones and, oh, oh, spotty vision, time to breathe) had been good medicine. Excitement ran rampant through every nerve ending and back again, so that only supreme patience built up over the years of, well, having the friends that she did kept her from jumping up on her chair in the middle of it and breaking out into an(other) impromptu victory dance; as it was, she just sat, vibrating with pent up energy and probably glowing. Everyone had been as open and excited as she'd expected, the faculty were friendly and helpful, the picnic had been great fun and she just knew that things could only get better.

Admittedly, she had been a bit worried about her roommate. Natasha Chernov, a drama student, had failed to answer the number that Anzu had been given, and had not tried to contact Anzu in return. Still, roommates had been assigned by the board (Of Juilliard! Juilliard, where Anzu had been accepted to study dance!), and Anzu had faith that the thorough questionnaire that she had filled out- that all students of Juilliard filled out- had helped lead them to an informed decision, and thus an ideal roommate.

Well. So much for the system.

Meeting Natasha had been disaster as Anzu had never known it before. Normally she was quite good at making friends, or at least establishing friendly relations, but Natasha, decked out from head to foot in black and blue and bruise-purple, had taken one look- more of a glance, really- at Anzu's turquoise tank top, khaki capris and pink bangle bracelets and decided that she hated her on principle. She'd neatly side-stepped Anzu's greeting, nose in the air as if to avoid the smell of it, and gone about her unpacking with a frosty, "Whatever, just stay out of my way."

But! The All-Knowing Directory Board of Juilliard School had assigned Anzu this roommate, to this room; so maybe she and Natasha had started out on the wrong foot, Anzu was determined to right their steps. After all, severe mixed-but-don't-match roommates were a movie trope, not something that occurred in real life- certainly not real life at Juilliard. Feeling that another greeting might be snubbed, she cast her gaze over Natasha and the things that she could see peeking out of Natasha's suitcase, hoping to hook a conversation-starter. It was all pretty neutral, though, from what Anzu could see. Biting her lip, she decided to go the generic.

"Those are pretty earrings," she said, spotting the onyx studs as Natasha tucked a lock of dark brown hair behind an ear. "Did you get them at a shop around here?"

Natasha shot a look at Anzu's bracelets and said nothing.

"Um... So, you're here from Russia?"

"Do I sound like I'm here from Russia?"

"Oh," Anzu said, blush heating her cheeks; Natasha's accent was very obviously American. "So, this is your second term, right?"

"Yes, which means that I should have a room to myself, and some other freshman should be stuck here with you."

Embarrassed- and growing irritated, which was simply not going to work for her, because, oh, right, she was at Juilliard- Anzu had sighed a put-upon sigh and pulled out the linens she had brought and started by making her bed. When she got to unpacking her clothes, she firmly restrained herself from making a show about putting away her blacks and darks, telling herself that she didn't care what anyone thought of her attire. Natasha could be a crab if she wanted to, but Anzu didn't have to put up with it, let alone cater to it.

Unfortunately, the other three girls in their suite didn't agree. The second double room was occupied by two more freshmen, but the single was taken by another girl entering her second term- a friend of Natasha's who could have been a mime if her outfit was more colorful, and who agreed that Natasha had been short-changed in regards to the rooming situation. The freshmen, who Anzu had met at orientation and gotten along quite well with, had decided that being friendly with Anzu- even looking at Anzu, apparently- wasn't worth the potential wrath of two upperclassmen. The rest of their floor of the Residence Hall hadn't been any better; Natasha was apparently quite popular with other returning students, and the first-timers followed that example without even bothering to get the full story. Sticking around would have been like trying to breathe underwater, so Anzu, back straight and head held up high, had grabbed her purse and headed out to see the sights, maybe treat herself to a few of the renowned shops around the city.

Things went downhill from tripping off the last step on the bus.

Shopping had been a bust, she could tell almost from the get-go. Everything was so expensive in New York, and she needed to be careful with her savings; she wouldn't be able to take a worth-while off-campus job until break rolled around, and even then she would have to take the time to get authorization, something she doubted she would be alone in pursuing. Window shopping would have been enough for her, but she had not taken a jacket when she left school, and the sharp chill had sliced at her bare arms and shins and face, chasing her inside- where she could feel the security guards' gazes burning into her back; when she smiled at them, they only narrowed their eyes. On a whim she perused the newsstands in search of articles on dueling or duelists, hoping in the back of her mind for familiar faces, but it was celebrity tabloid after celebrity tabloid, and she had sworn those off after stumbling upon the popular theory for Kaiba-kun's obsession with Yugi. Sight-seeing held no appeal in the murky weather that had rolled over the city. The restaurants looked warm and welcoming, but the lines would have thrown her off even if she'd been hungry. Defeated- for the moment, at least, as she still was in New York City to study dance at Juilliard- Anzu decided to head back to the Residence Hall.

And realized that she had no idea where she was or how to get back.

"Alright, don't panic," she muttered to herself. After all, there were street maps all over the place; all she had to do was locate the Hall, and a subway station or bus stop.

The first map she found was too badly vandalized to make out properly. The second was in the middle of a roiling crowd, and she couldn't get close enough to read the tiny number designations. The third had been surrounded by a group of scowling young men, hands shoved deep into pockets, who eyed her when she got close; she just kept walking, eyes fixed firmly ahead.

At that point she decided to give up on maps; she might be lost, but she was not a guy, so she tried asking for directions. Complete waste of time and breath; the people were as cold as the weather; no one would look at her, let alone talk to her, with the exception of a bagman with a tin foil hat who spit out a bunch of rough, guttural syllables that Anzu could only imagine were either a very poor imitation of German or of something out of Star Wars.

Anzu's opinion of Juilliard was quickly devolving from stairway to Heaven to highway to Hell, which she realized wasn't at all fair to the school itself, for all that she cared at the moment. Her exposed flesh was going numb from cold; her feet hurt; there was a headache pulsing behind her eyes, which stung from the pin-pricks of unshed tears, and the only people who spared her a glance weren't the sort she wanted looking at her. She moved without aim, letting herself be carried by the hustle of the crowd, hoping against the odds that the next time she looked around she would know where she was.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. She was in New York City. Her things were stored away in a dormitory in the Residence Hall of Juilliard School. At this moment she should be sitting in one of the lounges amongst a group of other excited students, jabbering about the upcoming school term. Instead she was wandering around in a strange city and trying not to be trampled into the pavement- and just what was with these people? The city was supposed to be a tourist city, wasn't it? Did people really come here to be snubbed and looked down on by the locals? Was that why she was here?

"Hey!" a man in a charcoal business suit barked as his briefcase caught her in the gut. "Watch where you're going!"

Hell. No.

"Why don't you try watching where you're going? That thing almost gutted me- you're lucky I don't make you swallow it!" Anzu snarled, chewing the English words and spitting them out, darkly satisfied when the stranger stepped back, clutching at his briefcase like a frightened child might clutch at his teddy bear. When he looked like he might retort, she moved forward aggressively, only veering to the side when he flinched away.

Her satisfaction didn't make her any warmer, though, or any closer to resolving her situation, and she wasn't convinced that the smirk fighting its way onto her face wouldn't be frozen there in the next breeze. Blowing out her frustration into a sigh, she decided that it couldn't be helped; she would have to flag down a cab. With any luck the fare wouldn't run too high, and the driver wouldn't need directions to get there.

At first it seemed liked all might be well. Many of the cabs she saw were already taken, as she was obviously not the only person looking to get out of the cold, but statistically some of them had to be empty. Gathering her courage, she stepped just off the curb and raised her arm to hail what she thought- and hoped- was an empty cab. Her spirits soared when it slowed to a stop- only to plummet when someone darted out from the crowd and into the back seat before she could take more than a step forward.

"Hey! My cab!" But her voice was lost to the sounds of the city, and the cab was soon out of sight. "Of all the rude, selfish things to do-!"

Anzu stepped back, took a deep breath, and tried again. Four or five cabs passed her like she wasn't there, already carrying passengers. Two more were snatched out from under her nose. One went right by her to pick up another hopeful, and that was the final straw. In her mind's eye, Anzu could see herself standing with one foot off the curb and one arm lifted, frozen in what felt like a freak cold wave. Barely keeping from kicking over the trash can beside her, she stormed off to find a pay phone; if she couldn't hail a cab, she could always call for one.

It was like looking for street maps all over again. The graffiti on the first three phones she found blotted out the listed emergency numbers, and the phone books had been defaced in kind. The fourth and fifth phones were out of order; the sixth was occupied, a status that didn't seem likely to change any time soon. Just as she found herself considering the merits of running out into the street in front of the next cab coming her way, she spotted someone hanging up a phone at the end of a block that was only sparsely crowded, and not by anyone who gave her more than a first glance. A street light flickered to life, illuminating the corner, and Anzu thought she heard angels sing. Letting a smile spread out across her face, she set off at a brisk walk; no one else seemed to be making a go for the phone, but there was an entire other block that she couldn't see.

"Hey!" someone yelled. She ignored it at first, but then, "Hey, you! In the capris!" A car with three young men had slowed to a crawl beside her, and the driver, a good-looking guy with messy blond hair, was leaning out and calling to her. Startled, Anzu hesitated and threw a glance around; there were a few other women in capris loitering, so maybe- "Yeah, I'm talking to you," the guy said, rolling his eyes. "Don't play coy, c'mere." Unsure, Anzu took a few steps towards the vehicle, staying two arm's lengths away and clutching tight to her purse strap. Had she brought pepper spray?

"We don't bite too much," the redhead in the passenger's side seat said. He and the driver were visibly smothering snickers; the guy in back, wearing a shirt covered in duel monsters, was frowning at her. "How much, gorgeous?"

Anzu had opened her mouth to ask for clarification when an indignant- and very familiar- voice sounded from somewhere to her right.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Not believing her ears, Anzu swerved her head towards the sound- and immediately began doubting her eyes, because her eyes were telling her that Kujaku Mai, biker helmet under one arm, was striding down the street towards her, eyes and cheeks alight with rage and upper lip curled in a snarl. Anzu took an instinctive step back even as she realized that the look wasn't meant for her- it was directed straight at the driver, who was leaning even further out of the window to watch Mai-san's approach.

"Hello, beautiful," he said with a smile that was somewhere between charming and sleazy, elbowing at the redhead, who was trying to lean across him for a better look. "Whaddayou charge-"

"Dude," the guy in back leaned forward and grabbed at his friend's shoulder, a note of panic in his voice, "I don't think she's a hooker, she looks like-"

"No, I'm not," Mai-san growled, at Anzu's side in what seemed like five strides, one hand falling on Anzu's shoulder protectively, perfectly manicured nails digging into the flesh there as if she thought Anzu might try to run, "and neither is she."

The guy in the back had his face pressed against his window, eyes wide with amazement, but the driver had retreated back into the car, and the redhead seemed like he was trying to melt into his door. Mai-san looked like she was going to say more, but another of the girls hanging around- a prostitute, Anzu realized now- walked over and situated herself between Mai-san and the car, gaze roaming down Mai-san's body and up again, face scrunched up with distaste.

"Beat it before you scare off our customers, why don't you?"

Mai-san said nothing, just gave the prostitute the same up-and-down treatment she had received and turned away without a word, dropping her grip from Anzu's shoulder to her elbow and pulling Anzu along with her. Anzu didn't need any encouragement, really, she was more than ready to get out of here. The walk back to Mai-san's motorcycle was fast and silent. Once there, Mai-san turned on her, but something in Anzu's face locked whatever derisive words Mai-san had for her away.

In her own language, Anzu offered a cowed, "Thanks."

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Mai-san asked, but waved a hand to silence Anzu when she tried to speak. "Never mind, not here. There's a café- is that alright? Can you come?"

Anzu nodded, and Mai-san donned the helmet and straddled her bike, indicating that Anzu follow her lead. The spare helmet wasn't exactly comfortable, but Anzu didn't complain as she took her place behind Mai-san and wrapped her arms around the older woman's waist. She didn't say anything at all, and even slammed her eyes shut when Mai-san kicked the bike into life and pulled out of where she'd- apparently- pulled in haphazardly upon spotting Anzu talking to the young men. It wasn't fear, as she'd ridden with Jounouchi and Honda many times; Anzu was just truly tired to her bones of the fabled city sights.

It was ten minutes before they reached the café, and they just sort of sat there in the parking space for another two while Anzu dug deep and found the strength to open her eyes and straighten up to get off the bike. Neither she nor Mai-san said anything as they set their helmets in place and walked through the door into the almost cozy café; there were no lines, and only a few patrons scattered around. Mai-san led Anzu to a booth in the back and settled across from her. An attractive waiter, looking refreshingly clean, took their orders and returned with them in almost the same minute, and then left them alone. Mai-san took a sip of her cappuccino before speaking, resorting again to the familiar Japanese.

"So, Anzu, what brings you to this side of the pond?"

"I was accepted at Juilliard. To study dance," Anzu said, but could barely muster a smile to accompany the announcement.

"That's wonderful!" Mai-san exclaimed, smiling, reaching out to squeeze one of Anzu's cold- but warming- hands. Unable to miss Anzu's lack of enthusiasm, she squeezed harder and asked, "That's wonderful, isn't it? That school is very difficult to get accepted into?"

"Very," Anzu agreed, eyes on her drink. Mai-san didn't need any further clarification; she squeezed once more before pulling her hand back. "I was so happy to come, and now all I can think of is how much I want to go home."

"You never told me what you were doing when I found you, though. You weren't really-?"

"No!"

"So what were you doing there?"

Anzu took a deep breath and launched into her story from the beginning, leaving no detail, however minor, untold and finally finishing with, "and so here I am. I really don't know what to do."

"Don't be a child," Mai-san said; Anzu, hurt, glanced up, meeting Mai-san's eyes. "Now, listen- really listen. If you try to go through life expecting only the bright side of things, prepared to accept only that, you're going to be let down. Always. No, listen," her voice went dagger-sharp when Anzu looked back down at her drink, and she didn't say another word until Anzu met her eyes again. "You're not special- look at me when I talk to you, you expect to get by in life with manners like these? You're not above the rest of us, Anzu-"

"I never even suggested-"

"Bad things happen to everyone, you don't get to be the exception to that rule. I take back what I said, actually- even a child knows better."

"Remind me why I don't call you for help when I'm down?"

"Don't take that tone with me," but Mai-san was smiling as she said it. "I'm helping, whether you're willing to accept that or not."

Anzu said nothing. She spent an awkward two minutes just staring into her drink before looking up again; Mai-san held her gaze for another minute before speaking again, softer this time.

"You're a good girl, and that used to be okay, but you can't afford to be any sort of girl now. You aren't stupid- at least I don't think you are. You see the world the way you do because you want to, not because you believe it."

"I believe-"

"Don't interrupt me, listen. These rose-colored glasses of yours- you put them on every morning when you wake up, but you know that they're there, and that's better than some people at least. But- if you ignore everything else, listen to this- that's all well and good at home, but a woman can't last long in the outside world that way- a girl won't make it off the front step. Do you understand?"

Taking a long drink of her latté to avoid having to answer, Anzu recalled how her meeting with Natasha had sunk, and how her stomach had sunk with it; how the other students had been so quick to turn on her; how she found herself here with a woman who she wasn't sure she would ever see again, and certainly not in the middle of New York City.

"I understand," she said at last, meeting Mai-san's eyes.

Mai-san hummed a noncommittal hum and finished the rest of her own drink, saying when she was finished, "So, what are you going to do?"

"Go back to school, I guess, and hope for the best." When Mai-san's lips tightened, Anzu hurried on, "I won't expect it, but I'll hope." Then, more defensively, "I can hope."

A sigh, a shake of her head, a quizzical look across Anzu's face, but Mai-san didn't suggest otherwise. Anzu downed the last of her latté and stood, reaching for her purse.

"I need to be back at the Hall soon," she said, the English words tasting odd, but not unpleasant, rolling over her tongue. "Could you give me a lift? We'll have to find a map, though..."

"No, I know where it is," said Mai-san as she stood and dug a few bills out of her purse; when Anzu moved to do the same, she reached across to put one hand over the younger girl's. "My treat- you need to look after your savings. No arguing. What are friends for, anyway?" A tight sort of smile was tugging at her lips, and Anzu found herself returning it with interest.

"Hey," Anzu said, realization striking, "you never told me what you're doing here."

"I live here," Mai-san answered easily, dropping money for their drinks on the table. "For now, at least."

"Oh," Anzu said, trying and failing to hide her disappointment. "Are you moving away soon?"

"Well, I was thinking about it," Mai-san admitted as they made their way towards the door, and Anzu felt her gut clench. She didn't always get along with Mai-san, but it was nice to have a familiar face around- although Mai-san herself would probably think the idea childish. "My apartment is nice and the rent isn't too bad, but the neighbors really aren't worth it. I did have a roommate, but she skipped out a couple weeks ago- settled all her debts first, but that doesn't make her or her half of the bills any less gone, you know?"

"Yeah, I get what you mean. To go from splitting the cost of living to paying all of it yourself..." Anzu had meant to say more, but her throat was itchy all of a sudden. It wasn't that she didn't understand- she herself would be horrified to be confronted with such a threat to her own precious savings- it was just that understanding didn't soften the blow.

"Still," said Mai-san, her tone so thoughtful and her gaze fastened so far away that at first Anzu didn't think she was talking to her, "it is a very nice building, and I would hate to have to go hunting for another one. I think I'll be sticking around for a while. About the length of a school term, I think."

Anzu's breath caught; she could just breathe, "Mai-san-"

"Problem is," Mai-san went on as if unaware that Anzu had spoken, "I'm sort of picky about who I share space with- a girl's gotta have her standards- so I'll probably wind up going it alone the whole time. Talk about a dent in your pocketbook. Tournaments aren't paying what they used to, let me tell you, back when crazy billionaires were running everything."

A laugh bubbled up from deep within Anzu's chest, surprising her when it managed to struggle through her slowly constricting throat. Mai-san turned to her with one of those insufferable smiles, the kind that meant she owned you and she knew it whether you'd accepted it yet or not.

"Won't that be inconvenient for you, then?" Anzu asked, and almost slapped herself for it; Mai-san only smiled wider.

"It will be, no doubt about it. But it's a nice place, like I said, and a good roommate is worth holding out for. Don't you think so?"

"Yes." A single scratchy syllable, and it felt woefully inadequate. But Anzu could think of nothing else to say, so she just smiled and hoped that her lower lips wasn't shaking as badly as it felt like it was, and that the tears she was barely holding at bay weren't as obvious as she was sure they were. Mai-san said nothing, but smiled in return and opened the door to let Anzu out ahead of her.

After the time spent inside, the weather felt even harsher against Anzu's bare arms. She shifted as close to Mai-san as quickly as she could once they were both seated, soaking in the other woman's warmth. Mai-san took off at a speed to shame a professional racer; Anzu held on tight, but kept her eyes open.

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Praise appreciated, concrit treasured, flames raspberried.