Preface/summary/warnings:
This is vaguely set after Battle City but before (/instead of) everything else. It was inspired by a lot of Malik x Bakura fic I've read lately, so if I've recently left you a review... This one is for you. I'm not sure that'll you want it particularly, but there you go! For me, this story is about manipulation, power, and freedom – though the first two might seem to preclude the third.

This fic contains (in order of appearance): Ryou x Anzu (hostshipping), Bakura x Malik (thiefshipping), Ryou x Malik (angstshipping), Anzu x Malik (manipulashipping) and Anzu x Bakura (vexshipping). And if you squint REALLY hard, you might see some tendershipping.

WARNING: This fanfiction contains explicit material. That list of ships ought to tell you enough about it and, as it indicates, there are both male/female and male/male pairings here.

Stay tuned for the next instalment soon... This story was just a bit too long to post in one chapter. Please review if you enjoy.

The Definition of Love

Part One.

With an abrupt gasp, Ryou came to. There was a moment of nauseating haziness as he tried to adjust to the swirling lights and loud bleeping sounds.

After a moment or two, he realised he was standing in an arcade. That there were a few dozen teenagers staring at him... And that they all looked pretty freaked out. Even the two girls on the dance machine just stood there looking at him, while the machine squealed about how they were missing all their steps.

Ryou looked down. In front of him, there was a guy sprawled out on the floor, out cold, his mouth bloody.

Oh.

Okay.

Now Ryou understood why his right hand was clenched in a first. He looked at it like it belonged to someone else – which of course, only seconds earlier, it had. There was blood across his knuckles too, but not his own, and below that the skin was lifting in a graze that, from experience, he knew would later be compounded with a bruise.

Ryou bit his lip. Another shudder went through his body, but this one wasn't at all mystical: he was about to start crying.

And then Ryou ran. The crowd skittered away from him as he fled out onto the street. He ran as fast as he could, his eyes blurred from the tears. He kept running for several blocks, until his legs felt like they might collapse out from under him, until his lungs felt like they might explode. At least if they did, it'd be because he ran. Because he moved his legs, because he caused this burning sensation in his chest, because he wouldn't stop.

And not because he couldn't stop the other one.

And then at full speed, Ryou plowed into someone. They tumbled to the ground, landing heavily on the concrete pavement. His brain wasn't quite keeping up – it took a moment before Ryou registered that he'd just landed on a girl.

"I am – so – sorry," he gasped, barely able to squeeze out the air. His voice sounded odd to him, like perhaps he hadn't spoken in weeks. Then Ryou realised that not only had he crash-landed directly on top of a girl, but that his apology was more or less being delivered directly into her breasts.

The girl just groaned.

Ryou grimaced. His cheeks felt hot – they burned almost as badly as his lungs. He scrambled to get up, which did not really improve the situation because when he could see her face, he could see that... He knew this girl. Her face was familiar not only from the times they'd hung out together as friends, but from the stolen glances he'd taken at her when he could.

"...Ryou?" she said, obviously as dazed as him. "What...?"

"Anzu! I am so very, very sorry!"

Anzu lay there for a moment. Her chest heaved as she took one breath, and then another, apparently feeling to see if she was okay. It was really hard not to notice the swell of her breasts, tight against the floral print of her dress, as her chest rose and fell. Ryou tried really hard not to notice.

Then Anzu reached her hand up to her head, and it came back with blood on it.

"Oh my word, what have I done?" he blurted.

Giving a wan smile, Anzu slowly eased herself up into a seated position. "It's okay," she said.

"No, it isn't! You're hurt! I could have given you a concussion or – or – "

Anzu smiled again, though it still wasn't really a happy smile. She interrupted him. "Honestly, I think my butt hurts most of all. I just conked my head when I hit the ground. It's all right, it's only a little bump."

"Let me see," Ryou demanded. His need to check that she really was okay outweighed his usual timidity.

Anzu seemed surprised by his forceful tone. She sighed and turned her head. "Take a look, then."

Carefully, Ryou sifted his fingers through her brown hair, not wanting to pull on it. Even despite his worry, he couldn't help but notice that it was soft and smelled of apricots. He felt himself blush again – how could even notice such a thing at a time like this? What was wrong with him? Was he actually getting so used to bizarre, uncomfortable, possibly violent situations that he could stop to moon over a girl in the middle of one? He was going to wind up warped. Well, more warped, at any rate.

Anzu gasped as his fingers found the bump on her head.

"Sorry," he mumbled, trying to peer through her dark hair. She was right – it was only a small graze, not much worse than the ones already on his hand. Scalp wounds did bleed a lot, though. He knew this from experience, too.

Anzu reached her own hand up and gently pulled his away. "Really – I'm fine, Ryou. Don't worry." She bit her lip. "Does it look too much like a mess?"

Ryou felt an uncertain fluttering in his chest when she didn't let go of his hand. Instead, Anzu stared at it. He desperately hoped she thought he'd crushed it on the ground or something on the way down.

And then there was slightly dizzying feeling as the other one – Bakura – floated upward, coming just forward enough in his consciousness to make his own feelings known to Ryou. The other Bakura – the Dark Bakura – liked blood. And at this moment, he liked seeing Anzu's blood on Ryou's hand. He liked seeing it on her hand while their hands were clasped together. He'd like to lick her fingers.

With a sickened gasp, Ryou yanked his hand from Anzu's.

The other-him faded, leaving only an echoing feeling of mockery behind him. In a heartbeat or less, Ryou was alone in his head again. Or, as alone as he ever could be.

"Ryou..." Anzu said tentatively. "Are you okay?"

Ryou stared at her. "I just knocked you down in the street, and you ask if I'm okay?" Even he could hear the note of hysteria in his voice.

Anzu's big blue eyes looked even more concerned. "You were running pretty fast. And..." she hesitated, then a look of determination flashed over her face. "And you look like you've been crying."

Before he could stop the impulse, Ryou's other hand, the clean one, came up to rub his eyes. They felt hollow, somehow.

Anzu nodded, half to herself. "All right. Come on," she said. She stood up, wiped her hands off on her dress, and then held one out to him where he still knelt on the pavement.

Ryou stared up at her hand. What if the other one came back again? But she was just waiting there, and he didn't know what else to do, so hesitantly he reached out and slipped his hand into hers.

Without any hesitation of her own, Anzu hauled him up off the ground, like he weighed nothing. "You look like you could use a hot chocolate."

"No, I couldn't possibly..."

"No buts," she informed him, bluntly.

"But your head – "

"No buts," she just repeated. "I'm sure it doesn't look too gorey. Come on." Anzu used her grip on his hand to tug him towards the nearest cafe, only letting go when she was convinced he was coming along with her.

A few moments later, they were seated at a table for two. The cafe didn't look particularly fancy, but it was quiet inside, at least. And although the tables and chairs were all mismatched, there was a glass cabinet displaying a number of cakes which looked considerably more professional.

Anzu made polite small talk while they waited for their drinks - about the unusually fine autumn weather, about the new album from X-Japan, about Kaiba Corp's new online rpg. Ryou watched as her eyes lit up when the waitress finally put down two tall glasses topped with whipped cream, marshmallows and powdered chocolate.

Anzu took a sip of hers and then sighed happily. "That's better. See? If you hadn't bumped into me, I never would have found the best hot chocolate in Domino."

For a moment, Ryou hoped she would leave it at that. But he should have known better. She was too sensitive to other people's feelings to just let it go.

"Now... What's up, Ryou? Where were you running to?"

Ryou hesitated. "Um, well, I live around here, that's all." It was true.

Anzu frowned at him, but her frown was gentle, almost scolding. "So do I, but that's not what I meant. What's going on?"

Ryou intended to lie, to say that nothing was wrong. She was being nice, but there was really no point telling her. It wasn't like there was anything she could do about it. At best she'd start treating him weirdly. At worst, well... She'd be scared of him.

So it was with a feeling of horror more than relief that when Ryou opened his mouth, he heard himself totally spill the beans.

The effect on Anzu was immediate. She flinched, and her spoon slipped out of her fingers and into her hot chocolate, now as irretrievable as the marshmallow she'd been aiming for.

"What?" she blurted.

"He's not gone. The spirit. The spirit of the ring. I... Can't get rid of him."

Ryou watched Anzu's face struggle as she tried to control her feelings. She didn't do a very good job of it.

"How is that possible?" Her voice was almost a whisper. "I thought after Malik..." she trailed off.

Ryou couldn't help it – he laughed. What had they all thought? He'd often wondered.

Malik – the evil Malik, the crazy Malik – had defeated the original inhabitant of his own body and the spirit of the ring, who had been duelling together. And Ryou, the spirit and good Malik had all plunged into the shadow realm, unconscious... Until the Dark Yugi defeated Dark Malik and saved them all. So what, exactly, did they think had happened to him? Oh no – Ryou is possessed by an evil spirit... But that mysterious coma probably cured him, right?

They'd just left him on that stupid blimp.

Anzu took a deep breath and forged ahead. "We thought when Malik defeated the spirit, it had been sent to the shadow realm without you."

"No. There's definitely two of me in here," he said. "And sometimes... Most of the time... I'm not the one in charge."

Anzu had a funny look on her face. He couldn't tell whether it was mostly horror, or mostly pity. Neither emotion was great, but he guessed that both were better than her running screaming out of the cafe.

Of course, she still had time to do that, too.

But then Anzu shook her head and her expression cleared. Her face was determined when she reached out her hand to grab his yet again.

"That's awful," she said.

At home that night, Ryou stood under the scalding water of his shower. It seemed like he spent a lot of the time in there, trying to wash away whatever he'd done that day – that week. He hoped it didn't become one of those obsessive disorders. Could it be one already? He wondered if he'd been to school recently.

Any relaxing effect the water had was lost when he heard a bitter laugh – a laugh that was disembodied, and all-too-familiar. Although the sound seemed to come from everywhere, Ryou knew it was all in his own head. It swelled against the inside of his skull, heavy like darkness, and Ryou half-expected everything to truly go dark as the pressure became too great.

But instead, the other one – Bakura – appeared beside him suddenly. Ryou stared at the spirit. Its hair was wild and unkempt, and its eyes were his own brown eyes – but crueller, meaner, harder. His outfit was the same as the one that Ryou had thrown on the floor twenty minutes earlier, some trashy jeans and a t shirt for a band Ryou had never even heard of.

The spirit leaned back against the bathroom sink, arms crossed against his chest. Well, at least he didn't look angry. Ryou turned his back on the spirit and faced the showerhead. He didn't like it when he could see himself this way. It felt like looking into a twisted funhouse mirror.

"Tell me," Bakura said, his voice a little too amused. "What exactly did you think you were going to achieve by spilling our little secret today?"

"Nothing, Yami," Ryou said. His voice came out so soft that it was almost inaudible. He wondered just how pathetic he sounded.

The spirit laughed again. "Oh, come now. You must have had some goal in mind. Maybe you think if you enlist the captain of the Friendship Brigade, you'll find some way to get rid of me?"

Ryou held his face under the steady beat of the water from the shower. When he didn't reply, Bakura prompted him. "Well?"

"No," he said, eventually, and he wasn't sure whether he was half-choking on the hot water or on more tears.

He said it, and he knew it was true. He was never getting rid of Bakura. Never. He'd tried throwing the ring away, but it returned by itself. He'd tried destroying it, but it wouldn't burn. If one of them went to the shadow realm, they both went. If one came back... They both come back. And Ryou was only ever in charge of his own body when Bakura let him take charge. He had almost no say in the matter at all.

It was pointless to fight Bakura. It was pointless to do anything, and yet... He couldn't stop living. Things would be so much easier if he could just stop fighting this pointless fight, but instead he snatched at brief moments of freedom whenever he could. Even if that freedom was a lie. It was either try to keep those moments for himself, or just go insane.

For some reason, Anzu's eyes came to mind. They were more teal than blue, he thought.

"Well," Bakura said. "Hurry up and get your skinny ass out of the shower. I have places to take it. I'm a busy guy, you know."

Ryou didn't bother answering him. He just shut off the faucet and stepped out of the shower stall. There was barely room to move in his tiny bathroom, especially with the spirit there lounging there, eerily see-through. There was no point being bashful either – Bakura had seen it all before. Oh, hell. He'd done more with it before.

Ryou managed to get himself into some clean clothes, his hair just blow-dried, before the world spun and everything stopped.

"Malik," Bakura said. "Malik – wake up."

In the bed, the dark shape stirred. "'Kura? What time is it?" Malik's voice was low and scratchy from sleep.

Bakura snorted. "Like I give a fuck."

Malik sighed and rolled onto his back – but he pulled the pillow over his face in the same movement. "Go away. I'm sleeping."

Bakura grinned; and he knew that if Malik could see him in the darkness, the grin would make Malik shiver. He crawled onto the bed and lay down beside Malik's prone form – he stretched out on his side, leaning on his left arm, head propped up on his hand.

"Aww, does baby need a nap?"

"Mmmph," was Malik's only response.

Bakura's other hand shot out and yanked the pillow away. He grabbed Malik's jaw and twisted the boy's face toward him. Bakura could see better in the darkness than Malik, and he knew that Malik's purple eyes were suddenly wide. Bakura liked the feel of his fingers pressing into Malik's skin; he wondered if he'd leave bruises this time, or if Malik's bronze complexion would hide them.

His stupid little host had no idea how to use the strength of his own body.

Bakura released his grip on Malik's chin and slid his hand down, hesitating over Malik's soft throat. After this threatening pause, he let the hand rest on Malik's upper chest. His fingers played gently along the collarbone. He leaned in to whisper into Malik's ear, careful that his lips just brushed the earlobe.

"You want to know what time it is?" Bakura said.

He knew, with an almost sixth sense, that despite himself Malik was already growing hard. He trailed his fingers down Malik's smooth, tanned chest, down his firm abdomen, and confirmed it. Yep.

Malik shivered at the touch of Bakura's hand, and Bakura knew it wasn't just because his fingers were cold. "Sometimes, you are such an asshole. Us mere mortals actually need sleep, do you know that? I'm sick of you bursting in here at all hours. It can't always be fuck-o-clock."

Bakura gave a bark of laughter. "Shut up." He rolled on top of Malik suddenly, pressing the weight of his body against the other boy's. The feel of Malik's hardness pressed against him only stoked his own erection, made him harder, too.

"Oh, whatever," Malik bitched, but it sounded like his heart was no longer in it. He did add, "But next time, it's my turn to top."

Bakura collapsed in, pressing their chests together, and in the same movement he sank his teeth into Malik's shoulder. The other boy moaned as Bakura tasted the sweet, metallic tang of blood. Bakura lifted his mouth long enough to say, "I'll make you beg me to be on top again after this."

In the morning, Ryou woke with someone warm wrapped around him. He stiffened in shock, his whole body going tense. Occasionally, Bakura had woken up his consciousness at inappropriate times, just for a laugh. Sometimes while shoplifting, or in a fight. Sometimes for a stupid mess he'd gotten himself into and couldn't be bothered getting himself out of again. Only once when kissing Malik. For the most part, the spirit left Ryou hanging in the darkness when he did all the things he liked to do. Ryou suspected, most of all – more than any of the other things – that the spirit didn't want to share his time with Malik.

He'd never done this to Ryou before.

Malik felt Ryou wake up, and he snuggled closer. Ryou didn't know what to do. Fortunately, when Ryou's body didn't relax into his after a few more moments, Malik raised his head.

The Egyptian boy's blond hair was shaggy, mussed from sleep, sticking up at even weirder angles than usual. His eyes were wide, purple like amethysts, and they peered searchingly into Ryou's face. Then those eyes narrowed.

"Oh," Malik said. "It's you."

He rolled away from Ryou to the other side of the bed, apparently intending to go back to sleep.

Ryou lay there. Did that mean he could just get up and leave? He turned his head and stared at Malik's back, where the sheets had slipped down revealingly. Malik's tanned skin was covered with strange glyphs that almost looked more like scars than tattoos. Suddenly Ryou couldn't suppress a sound of – dismay? Despair? He didn't even know.

Malik rolled back over. He looked grumpy. "What?"

Ryou found himself fighting back tears, again. He hated it. He hated how often he wanted to cry, even if they were often tears of frustration. Tears of exhaustion. He especially didn't want to cry here, in front of Malik. Malik would probably just laugh about it later with the spirit.

"Why would he do this?" Ryou managed to say. "What would he do this to me? Why would he do it to you?"

Malik laughed, though his eyes didn't smile. Although he wasn't happy, he didn't look too intimidating , lying as he was beside Ryou in bed. If anything, he looked handsome, in a dishevelled kind of way.

"He's inside your head. Can't you guess?"

Ryou shook the head in question, wordless.

Malik gave a yawn and stretched. "Because he can," he said. "That's why. That's the only reason he needs."

"But don't you care?" Ryou blurted. "Don't you care that he's just gone and left you stuck with me?"

Malik gave him a considering look. Ryou thought that this was probably the longest conversation they'd ever had. He tried not to think about the fact that they were both naked.

Malik shrugged. "Not really." He smiled, and this time it was gentle. He reached out and touched Ryou's white hair softly, reassuringly. "There are worse people to wake up next to, you know."

At that, Ryou turned his eyes downward, suddenly unable to look the other boy in the face. He couldn't process this. Was Malik just playing with him? Was he being nice to Ryou to make the spirit angry? Did he actually give a shit about any of this?

Malik sighed. "Just go home, then." He rolled back over, apparently to go back to sleep, or just perhaps to give Ryou some privacy.

Ryou took it, leaping out of bed. At first he couldn't find his clothes – they definitely weren't the ones he'd put on when he'd last gotten dressed. By the time he'd searched Malik's room, he'd only just absorbed the fact that the one bedroom apartment was only a little bigger than his own studio, despite the fact that the only times he'd seen Malik with – with clothes on, they'd been expensive clothes, with an over abundance of expensive-looking jewellery. But this apartment was – well, it wasn't what Ryou expected. And it was a total mess.

As soon as Ryou could get dressed, he left.

But two days later, he found himself standing in front of Malik's building again. He knew what he wanted to ask Malik, but not how Malik would take the question. He didn't really expect any help, but for some reason – persistent, stupid hope, perhaps – he was there anyway. Ryou took a deep breath, and pushed the buzzer.

There was no response for a full minute. He pushed it again.

"What?" a voice crackled over the speaker.

"Malik? It's... Um, it's Ryou."

"Ryou?" Malik sounded surprised. He didn't say anything else, but a moment later the door beeped and Ryou could push his way inside.

By the time he got up the stairs to Malik's doorway, Malik was standing in it. He leaned on the door frame, arms crossed. There were gold bracelets on his wrists, and somehow their warm colour and the intricacy of the delicate metalwork made the lean Malik look more muscled – contrast, perhaps.

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events. Didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon." Malik looked Ryou up and down, taking in the prim black linen pants, vest and shirt. His mouth pressed in a thin line, and Ryou couldn't tell if he was annoyed, or hiding a smile. "At least, not by your own choice."

Malik stepped back and gestured for Ryou to come inside.

When he walked in, Ryou realised that the apartment wasn't quite as messy as he'd thought before, in his rush to leave. Or rather, it was messy but wasn't mess, it was things. Knick knacks. Mostly books. Ryou looked at the pile near his feet. Some of them seemed to be in Japanese, others in English or Arabic. There were even a few in French. Those ones looked old.

Ryou wasn't quite sure what to say, but Malik filled the silence easily. He was still staring at Ryou with that funny expression. "Seeing you like this is certainly a trip."

"I beg your pardon?"

Malik snorted with laughter. "Oh, that's too good – 'I beg your pardon'!"

Ryou bristled, but said nothing.

"Oh, come on, pet. Don't get so easily upset."

"Yes, well," Ryou replied. "I find that I have plenty to be upset about."

Malik just laughed again. "Woo! Talk about the understatement of the year. I can sure see why he likes you."

Ryou stared at him, expression flat. "I don't think I'd put it that way."

Malik shrugged and walked into his kitchenette. "Coffee? I don't have anything else to offer you, sorry."

"Coffee would be fine," Ryou replied out of politeness.

He watched Malik bustle about the kitchenette. Malik's gold jewellery jingled as he hopped about. Watching him, Ryou realised that there was a phenomenal amount of contained energy to everything Malik did. Next to the dark-skinned boy, Ryou felt like a pale ghost, growing fainter and fainter.

Malik glanced up from the kitchen. "Well, sit down," he said.

The living area had a beat-up blue couch, a somewhat more expensive-looking brown armchair, and a small television set that – on closer inspection – wasn't actually hooked up to the wall at all. Ryou sat on the couch. Malik handed him a mug, and then sprawled in the chair opposite. He looked like a large golden cat, totally relaxed and yet ready to spring into action.

Ryou took a sip of the coffee. He tried not to make a face – it was black, and ridiculously syrupy. Arabic style, he guessed.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Malik's eyes were a little too knowing for Ryou's liking.

Ryou cleared his throat. "I came here today because you're the only person who... Knows what it's like."

Malik understood immediately. He sneered. "What about Yugi?"

Ryou thought about it for a moment. When Malik challenged him, he didn't feel cowed, the way Bakura made him feel. He felt like the other boy was testing him somehow. "First, Yugi likes his spirit. I think you'll agree that it's... Not quite the same thing. Second, he's in Egypt with his grandfather, at one of Professor Hopkins' digs. Third, you... You're the only one other who's... Been inside me."

Malik raised one eyebrow and opened his mouth, and Ryou just knew something vulgar was about to come out. He quickly continued, "I mean, you were inside my head with Bakura. You know what it's like to... Share with him."

Malik smiled in response. "I hate to break it to you, my fuzzy little dandelion, but I like sharing things with Bakura." He leered. "Lots of things."

Ryou just stared at him, waiting for Malik to give a proper response. He tried not to fidget under Malik's unnerving and yet captivating stare.

"Everybody thinks just because the Dark Yuugi destroyed my... Crazy side, that I'm normal now. Well, I'm not." Malik laughed. "Jesus Christ, how could I be?"

Ryou realised that he'd thought almost the same thing a few days earlier, talking to Anzu. He didn't know how to answer that question, either.

"That ... craziness... It didn't live in the rod, like Bakura lives in your ring, or Yuugi's little friend lives in his puzzle. It came out of me. It was a part of me. It's never going to be completely gone." Malik glanced down at his coffee and said in a low, cold voice, "I killed my own fucking father. I mean, I didn't do it, exactly, but... It was still my hands. I can't put all the blame onto my little mental problems. Those problems were in this head, in my head."

This time when Malik's purple eyes glanced back up from under his long, dark lashes, Ryou felt his skin crawl, like there were invisible insects walking all over it.

"When I came here to destroy the pharaoh, I chose to do that. Not the other part of me. This part. Just because I changed my mind, that doesn't make me a good person."

Strangely, Ryou understood. He nodded. "It changes you."

Malik's eyes narrowed. "Yes, it does. I'll never be entirely sure what I like, and what I like because he liked it."

Ryou cleared his throat. "What you're saying is... You two – you and Bakura – are... Compatible."

To Ryou's surprise, Malike threw back his head with a peal of laughter. "Is that your polite British way of saying that we're both total fuck ups?"

Ryou blushed. "N-no. I mean..."

Malik pushed himself to his feet. "Well, you're probably right. Has this little heart-to-heart done what you wanted it to?"

Ryou nodded. He wasn't really sure what he'd achieved – he certainly hadn't got any tips on how to share his own head with a murderous spirit. But there was a sense that the conversation was definitely over.

"Good, then get the fuck out of my apartment," Malik said cheerfully.

Just before Ryou closed the door behind himself, he heard Malik say, "See you again... Real soon."

Ryou walked into the second floor study area in the public library. It was practically empty in there this time of the evening, and he instantly recognised a brown-haired bob toward the back of the room. He wondered if he should turn around and walk back out again. No. He made up his mind and went toward her.

"Hello, Anzu."

Anzu looked up in surprise. "Ryou! I've been thinking about you." Her cheeks went faintly pink. "I mean, I've been worrying about you. I tried calling you a few times but you never answered your phone."

Ryou's expression darkened. "I'm sorry, Anzu. I didn't know."

She blinked. "Oh, well... Are you here to study?"

Ryou smiled, but he knew he didn't look happy. "Yes, but I'm afraid I'm rather behind."

"You should sit and study with me."

Ryou sat down next to Anzu. He realised that she looked a little out of sorts. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes... It's just been a tough week," she said.

"Tell me about it?"

"Oh, no, I ..." Anzu shook her head, but the glum expression didn't leave her face. "I feel silly talking about my problems when yours are... Serious."

Ryou sighed. "Honestly, Anzu. It would be nice and... normal to hear about someone else's life."

Anzu looked at him, considering. "Well," she said slowly, "... I had a dance exam yesterday."

"It didn't go well?" Ryou guessed.

"It was horrible!" she burst out suddenly, and another blush spread over her cheeks. "I... I fell over."

"Oh, no."

"Yep," Anzu said. She sighed. "I guess it would have been funny, if I hadn't spent weeks rehearsing."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure." Anzu's eyes seemed bluer than ever. "One minute everything was fine, and the next, I bumped into another girl." She gave a weak smile. "I guess it's been a week for crashing into people."

Ryou felt compelled to apologise again. "I'm sorry, Anzu."

She blinked at him. "Oh, no, it's okay, Ryou. It's just, the worst part is... I'm not sure she didn't do it on purpose."

Ryou frowned. "But why would she do that?"

"Well, I fell down... But she didn't. And she was angry at me afterwards, but not as angry as she should have been. I think she resents that I'm at the top of the class and she might have... Tripped me deliberately."

Ryou felt angry, and it was a welcome emotion. It was almost nice to feel angry, when that anger was about something else for a change, about someone else's problems. "Anzu, that's terrible!"

"And now," Anzu continued, "We have this maths test tomorrow, and I haven't studied for it because I spent so much time rehearsing."

"...We have a maths test tomorrow?"

"Oh. Uh. Yeah. Sorry," Anzu said, a little lamely. "I forgot you wouldn't know."

Ryou laughed, but it sounded empty even to him. "It's all right. I know now, and I'm good at maths."

"Well, I'm not!"

"Then I'll just have to help you. We'll be fine. You know, assuming I actually show up to take the test," he tried to joke.

"It can't be good for you to miss so much school." Anzu frowned. "You've hardly been there at all the last few weeks. With Yugi gone, I've been stuck with Jou and Honda."

Ryou could only shrug in response. "I don't know. Now that I know about the test, I'll probably be there. The way I see it, if the spirit makes me flunk out of school, I won't get a job to pay for his lifestyle, and my father won't keep sending me money forever. I doubt the spirit wants to live on the streets." Ryou laughed again, aware of how bitter he sounded but unable to hide it. "When I graduate college – if I make it through college – he'll probably let me work all day so he can spend my money all night. He usually lets me do the boring things."

Anzu's blue eyes stared at him, and that look of horror was creeping back into them.

"I'm sorry," Ryou said hastily. "Too much information. What's the maths test on?"

Anzu looked like she wanted to argue, but after a second's hesitation she pulled her open book over in front of Ryou. "Differential equations."

Ryou looked at the page, and saw to some relief that he did indeed know how to solve most of its equations already. He thought it was a good thing he was smart, and that he'd started school here with a slight advantage thanks to the overlap between the British and Japanese school years. Otherwise, he'd probably already have failed out by now.

"Okay, where are you up to?" he asked Anzu.

Four hours later, a librarian interrupted them. She was an older woman, with her hair in a bun – Ryou thought she looked like librarians were always supposed to but usually didn't. "I'm sorry," she said politely, "But the library is closing."

"Oh!" Anzu's head snapped back from Ryou's, and she flushed.

It wasn't until that moment, when Anzu jumped away from him, that he noticed how close together they had been sitting. He was surprised that he'd been so absorbed in showing her equations that he hadn't even noticed that their knees had been touching. Ryou realised, with a flush of pleasure, that he'd totally lost track of time for once – and all on his own. He hadn't even noticed how hungry he felt, either. His stomach rumbled.

"We're so sorry, please excuse us. We'll pack up now," Anzu said.

The librarian smiled and moved off, beginning to turn off all the lights on the other study desks.

Anzu packed her books into her backpack.

Ryou realised that he didn't want to go home just yet. Maybe... Ryou cleared his throat. "Um... Anzu... Would you like to go get some dinner with me?"

Anzu started.

Ryou blushed. What had he just asked? Did she think he meant on a date? Did he mean on a date?

Her reply was slow, and he didn't know whether that was good or bad. "Okay," she said eventually. "That sounds nice."

The two of them walked down the street until they found a pizza place that was still busy. Dinner went by far too quickly for Ryou and yet, paradoxically, he wondered every few minutes why the spirit was letting this go on for so long. By the time dinner was finished, Ryou was feeling more like himself than he had in ... well, longer than he cared to remember. Somehow, feeling courageous, he offered to walk Anzu home.

It was a warm night out.

"So," Ryou said, trying to cover the awkwardness when they reached her family's house. He'd never walked a girl home before. "Do you feel better about the test now?"

Anzu smiled. "Yes."

On impulse, hardly believing that he could dare, Ryou grabbed Anzu's hand. "Um, Anzu... Thank you for tonight."

There was that feeling of butterflies just under his skin, a pleasant kind of nervousness. Ryou wasn't used to feeling nervous in a good way. He didn't want to let Anzu walk inside her home and let the evening end. All of this could be torn away from him at any second, anyway.

Anzu looked down at their hands. After a moment, she squeezed his. "Don't be silly. You're the one who helped me study."

Ryou shook his head. "I mean, thank you... Because today was normal. I don't get a lot of normal just recently and... Well, this was better than normal. Anzu, you..." Ryou trailed off.

Anzu was staring at him with her teal-coloured eyes. She was looking at him like she'd never seen him before.

And then she kissed him. Her mouth was soft and warm, and Ryou almost didn't know how to respond. Her lips pressed against his, and then they parted slightly, and he felt her tongue in his mouth, gentle, and unsure. Their hands were still twined together, and Ryou used them to pull her closer. He could smell her apricot shampoo again.

After a few moments, he pulled back from her mouth, but rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. He didn't want to forget a second of this.

"Ryou," she breathed. "I – "

Suddenly, he didn't want to know what Anzu had to say. Ryou kissed her again – he kissed her several times, quickly, as if he was trying to figure out how she tasted, and then he crushed his mouth on hers more determinedly, harder than she'd kissed him – but not too much harder. He used his tongue the way she'd just used hers, softly, gently.

Anzu seemed to dissolve against him. Ryou had always felt somehow dwarfed by Anzu – she was tall, and graceful, and confident. Tilting his face down like this, it was odd to suddenly realise that she was ever so slightly shorter than him. The realisation encouraged him further. Ryou liked the way she felt in his arms, pliant and trusting. Their bodies were crushed together and Ryou knew that if they continued much longer, his desire was going to become very, very apparent to her. But he couldn't seem to pull his mouth away from hers.

And then he heard it. The sound echoed in his ears like some kind of horrible nightmare that clung to your mind even after you awoke.

Bakura was laughing.

He sounded half-crazed, like he was positively filled with an evil glee. The laughter reverberated inside Ryou's skull until he thought he might go deaf.

Ryou shoved Anzu away from him.

She stumbled back, and stared at him, eyes going wide. "What...?"

"I can't," he said.

"I don't understand." Anzu blushed from – outrage? Embarrassment? Humiliation?

"I'm so sorry, Anzu. I just can't."

Ryou ran. He ran down the steps and into the darkness even as it swallowed him.