"See you tomorrow, Bakura."
Bakura gave a tiny wave and a half-hearted smile on his way out of the counselor's office. "Thank you," he said.
His smile rotted into a bit of a grimace once he turned away and headed for the cafeteria. He felt better after talking with the counselor. He always did. But not It. It was always revolted by his weakness. It would punish him later.
Bakura spotted his friends and pushed his dread out of his mind.
"Hey, Bakura!" It was Yugi, leaping up and waving. His Puzzle jangled and danced from the rope around his neck, completely carefree. Bakura touched a hand to his chest on impulse. He pushed his jealousy out of his mind, too.
"Hello, Yugi," he said, offering his sweetest smile. Circumstances notwithstanding, it was hard not to smile back at Yugi. His joy and enthusiasm were quite infectious.
The others – Tristan, Téa, Joey – looked up from the table, where they had what looked like a large map spread out between them, and greeted him in turn. He nodded to them all.
"Excuse me," said Bakura, leaving his things on his seat and indicating the hot lunch line with another little nod of his head.
"Sure thing," said Yugi. He turned back to the map with the others. Bakura took his leave.
Halfway back to the table, Bakura noticed that his carton of milk was leaking all over the rest of his food. But he had been last in line as it was, and the cooks were already packing everything up. He cast a hesitant glance in their direction and, balking at their militant determination, shrugged the issue off.
"It's only a couple miles from one end to the other," Téa was saying as Bakura took his seat. She jabbed two fingers on either end of the map.
"Yeah, but we're gonna keep stopping and waiting in line," said Joey, sounding exasperated. "There's no way we're gonna get through it all before they close the place."
"Or have time to eat anything," Tristan chimed in.
"Good point," said Joey, rubbing his stomach. "Funnel cake and cotton candy are already callin' my name."
Téa rolled her eyes. "All you boys think about is food!" she groaned.
"If we get there really early," Yugi suggested with a timid shrug, "we could probably do it."
"Do what?"
All four teenagers spun their heads around to face Bakura, who was dipping a rather soggy dinner roll into his mashed potatoes and watching them with innocent curiosity. They exchanged guilty looks.
Téa was first to speak. "Oh, nothing," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. He saw her unconsciously adjust her position to block the map from his view.
"Nothin' fun, if that's what you're wonderin'," muttered Joey.
"It doesn't, um – that is, I guess –" Yugi stuttered, flustered beyond comprehension.
Bakura looked between their nervous faces. He surprised them all with his tiny smile.
"Come to think of it," he said softly, "I believe I might be on duty in study hall today." He stood up with his tray of food and his things.
"Huh? Are you sure?" Téa knew the truth, but she needed the way out.
"Yes, I think so," he said. When they still didn't seem relieved, Bakura laughed and smiled for them again. "Truly, don't mind me!" he said. "I'm late enough as it is." He adjusted his backpack. "See you later, then."
Bakura felt their eyes on him as he left the cafeteria. His perfect understanding of their misgivings didn't seem to have any effect on his emotions. He took a seat behind a pillar near the school's entrance, out of sight, and finished his lunch through misty eyes.
It was okay. He'd never really had the desire to visit Kaiba Land, anyway.
When Bakura arrived home that evening, he found a message on his answering machine from the manager at Piggy Barn.
"Hello, this is Bakura? This is Piggy Barn. We received your application. We have a position open for a cook. Interview tomorrow at four o'clock. Okay, thank you, goodbye."
This was good news. He had to focus on that. His dress clothes were dirty – he'd wash them tonight. Bakura gathered his clothing from the floor and set it gently in his hamper. He left on old jeans and a ratty white t-shirt.
Full of anxiety, Bakura dared to slide the Ring off his neck. Nothing. He placed it under the cushion of his futon. Nothing. It had been silent since that morning.
Bakura had a terrible feeling. But he pushed it out of his mind.
Ah, he couldn't take this anymore. He simply couldn't.
The machine was filled with cold, murky water, and it spilled out at his feet when he opened the door. It hadn't run at all. His clothes lay inside in a heaping pile, soaked through and painted with detergent.
These were his only dress clothes. He had his interview tomorrow. He had no money to buy new ones.
Bakura stood before the machine and dropped his head into his hands.
He stood there for a long time, until the manager appeared.
"We're closing," he said.
"Sorry," said Bakura. He scooped the sopping wad into his hamper and left.
The night was hot and loud – as it always was in this neighborhood. The smell of fried food and alcohol took turns nauseating him. Roaches scattered to the storm drains as he passed under streetlight after streetlight.
Bakura balanced the hamper on one hip and fumbled with his apartment key. The smash of breaking glass behind him made him flinch. Dash it all, he thought, terrified to stay out – petrified to go in.
It was dark. No overhead light.
You reek of rose petals, it said, laughing at him. Bakura set the hamper at the foot of the futon.
Anything fun going on downtown?
Bakura crossed to the kitchen. He picked up a glass and filled it with water.
I was thinking we might go out.
His trembling hand gave a spasm. Water sloshed over the rim.
But what a state we're in. We can't be seen like this.
A gleam of gold rose from the corner of the room. Bakura's knees buckled, and he reached for the counter to hold himself up. He shook his head, but there were no words.
How about a change of clothes?
I loathe you. I despise you. You are weak, you are wretched; you are a coward.
You don't have to put on the Ring. No one makes you wear the Ring. You put it on for pleasure. You enjoy the demon – I know you do. You can't lie to yourself. Can you?
It's no wonder you aren't invited anywhere. It's better that you aren't. You would hurt them if you were there. It's better if you don't get the job. You would hurt them, too.
If you weren't a coward, you would get rid of the Ring. 'Dad gave it to you,' 'it's special,' I never hear the end of it. If Dad sent you a pile of garbage , would you keep that? If he sent you a dead rat, would you keep that?
What's the matter with you?
Will you do nothing?
Will you ever do anything?
Odorous clothes pasted to his body, the demon grinned and thieved and stalked the streets until dawn.
At school the next day, Téa noticed Bakura arrive an hour late. His wrinkled uniform hung off his body, and bags hung from his eyes – he had a look on his face that made her look twice.
"Bakura!" she hollered after class, before he could duck out of the room. He turned to her, gazing dumbly.
"Are you alright?" she asked. "You look like you could be sick."
He mumbled something. She leaned in.
"What?"
"Maybe sick in the head!" he chirped, and laughed shrilly. Téa recoiled, confused.
"Bakura—" But before she could fully process what had just occurred, he shrank back down and shrugged, as mild as ever.
"I'm fine, thanks for asking," he said. "Only I'm a bit nervous for my job interview after school today."
"Oh, you've got a job interview? That's great!" Téa brightened. "Where will it be?"
"A place near my apartment downtown," he said, seeming a shade too happy at the prospect. "But it seems I'll have to wear my uniform. The wash ruined my better clothes last night."
Téa frowned. "That's lame," she said. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Not anything along the lines you're thinking, foolish girl.
"No, I'm fine, really. Thank you, Téa."
"No problem."
"I really must be going," said Bakura, leaning toward the door.
"See you around, Bakura! Good luck!"
"Goodbye, Téa!"
How sweet. Did you see that? She wants to know all about you. She thinks you all got so much closer at Duelist Kingdom.
He licked his lips, relishing the memory of the salty taste of blood.
She wants to be your friend. But I think my companionship is enough, agreed?
Which class is next? Which fools shall we taunt this time around?
He stopped in front of the counselor's office, and the demon spat in disgust.
Here again? You're pathetic. This is your ridiculous charade, you take it from here.
Bakura staggered, gripping the locker beside him for support and scraping his hand on the metal. He panted and swooned. Too sick to stand, he sank to his knees; laying his head on them, he waited for the wave to pass.
The door opened above him. "Bakura?" said the counselor. "Are you alright?"
Bakura raised his head. He gave the only kind of smile there was that could hold back a sob.
"Come on in," said the counselor. "We're running a few minutes behind."
"Sorry," he said.
Why he even bothered to lift himself to his feet one more time, and stumble into this room one more time – he didn't have the strength to give a reason.
