I dread getting home.
Home is a haven free from outside tormentors (inside tormentors are tolerable family members, such as Mom and Joey), and the one I have in Domino is essentially a bachelor pad.
But Rebecca's visit has ruined that.
I don't hate Rebecca—she's family. I can't hate family, not even Mai—but she's too clingy. My skinship tolerance for females other than my mother is only up to a hug, and a hug from Rebecca is already so much. Normally, I don't even have to worry about any form of physical contact from the opposite sex; girls typically ignore me the whole year round (and teachers don't count as any form of sex), but Rebecca makes up for that in one visit.
But she hasn't always been this way.
There used to be a time when she found me gross and banned me from her tea parties simply because I was a boy—as every self-respecting five-year-old girl ought to do. I didn't mind. After all, I was a first grader who feared cootie contamination and thus found it pertinent to avoid its source: her kind. You could say we had a mutual disregard for each other.
Our parents had to coax forced acknowledgement out of us till the second grade: blood relations weren't enough to make a friendship between children. Plus, she couldn't believe we were actually related because of my weird hair. She hypothesized that I was a product of a lab experiment, some kind of mutant, and I didn't know what 'hypothesize' was but had a feeling she insulted me. It was then that my disregard for her turned to dislike.
The two-year gap between our ages didn't help foster our relationship either.
Also, I might have been a bit miffed that we were in the same grade despite her being younger. Rebecca was a child genius, and even when I tried to compete, I was only up to smart. Science and I didn't get along, and the subject was one of her many fortes.
As was the usual case with me, laziness won over and I backed out of the challenge I knew I couldn't overcome with minimum effort—the same thing happened with cooking. Plus, the extra studying took up time I could have spent playing games, which was detrimental to my happiness.
Happiness is a choice, and games are more important than being the smartest kid. I might not have been a child genius, but I was wise (if wise were synonym to lazy). If the challenge had been game-related though, I wouldn't have withdrawn and might have even won, but then again Rebecca didn't know about the challenge in the first place since I only set it up for myself, so technically I didn't lose to anyone.
Around fourth grade, during her grandfather's visit, things changed, and an ancient slab of stone was the catalyst for Rebecca's borderline incestuous feelings.
Rebecca was seven then. Most girls her age wanted to be rainbow unicorn princesses, but she wanted to be the queen of Egypt. Alas, she wasn't contented with just make-believing by herself anymore; she wanted a pharaoh to marry and a slave or two to do her bidding.
She demanded I be the slave.
I said no, and she threw a tantrum. Her grandfather, who was an Egypt archeologist, explained to her that I couldn't be a slave because I was related to her, the queen, which meant I was of royal blood. She wouldn't recognize our blood relations, though—again, because of my hair—denying me a spot in the monarchy. To this, Professor Arthur chuckled and said that Rebecca would change her mind soon enough.
Should've known that chuckle was a premonitory laugh of evil.
Professor Arthur just came back from an expedition in Egypt and a trip to the museum was his idea of fun. God knew I had enough 'fun' from school already. Rebecca said I was ungrateful and should receive lashings for being a disobedient slave; she had spoken with such vehemence too. I was nine but I knew that Rebecca's behavior wasn't something an adult should condone, but there was Professor Arthur just chuckling at her antics. I didn't know if it was favoritism or Rebecca's age just letting her get away with anything.
The rest of the ride to the museum was spent with Rebecca spielling off about her future plans as queen, which consisted mostly of the slaves doing the heavy lifting for her. The first task on the slaves' to-do list was to build her a pyramid. She then enumerated the following tasks while looking at me pointedly.
When we arrived at the museum we headed to the new display of ancient Egyptian artifacts Professor Arthur and his group had excavated. At that point, I just thought he was blowing his own horn. Rebecca was in awe, though—of the golden items probably. I imagined Mom would have loved to have some of those artifacts in her collection. Much as I knew games made me happy, shiny things did the same for girls, no matter their age. It was simple kid logic.
The trip was obviously planned with only Rebecca in mind, and I was wondering why Professor Arthur even brought me there in the first place. But then I concluded that he was that day's babysitter and that Mom was out with a friend. I didn't get the concept of dating back then, though I did think it was weird that Mom only went out with one male friend at a time. Wasn't more the merrier?
Professor Arthur showed us a stone tablet depicting two guys exchanging ghost stories during a campfire—or at least that's what I thought it was. He said that it was actually the nameless pharaoh dueling one of his high priests. (Up to that point I only knew of the nameless pharaoh as Rebecca's imaginary friend; the fact that he turned out to be somewhat real didn't really surprise me, mostly because I didn't care). He had me at 'dueling' and lost me the second I noticed Dark Magician carved on the tablet, which was awesome and almost made the trip worth it.
I just realized Blue Eyes White Dragon was there as well when Rebecca was suddenly a centipede latching unto my arm, demanding marriage. It was a total 180: promotion from unwilling slave to potential—still unwilling—husband. Professor Arthur told me that I resembled the nameless pharaoh and could possibly be his reincarnation, explaining Rebecca's abrupt change in behavior.
Rebecca further insisted that we weren't related, so we could get married; I countered that we were, so we couldn't. Professor Arthur inserted that pharaohs often marry their relatives.
I swear her grandfather is a bad influence on her.
Till this day, I have mixed feelings for Professor Arthur. Should I be flattered that he thought I was royalty or be mad that he sicced his granddaughter at me?
That year, Rebecca spent her summer vacation wasting mine: intruding on my home and personal space as she planned our wedding and reign, my mother indulging her fantasies all the while.
Mom saw the whole thing as 'cute.'
I might have inherited her eyes but clearly not her eyesight (which is somewhat unfortunate since Mom can spot a shoe sale from miles away, and a hunk even further, unaided, and I could use that visual acuity).
At the tender age of nine I felt utter betrayal from my kin. After that, I just didn't bother asking if Professor Arthur was from the mutual side of the family. Let it be a mystery unsolved because I didn't want to know anymore. On that note, I wasn't entirely sure how Rebecca and I were related either. Mom just said we were cousins.
Two years later, Uncle got a promotion, great news to everyone but Rebecca, especially because of what it entailed: relocation.
The day Rebecca's family were leaving for London, I had the widest smile while Rebecca was failing to hold back her tears; we were theatre's two opposing masks then, Melpomene and Thalia, finally separating. And the story might have started as a tragedy for me, but the masks were traded in the end, and the last laugh was mine, sunshine-loving Rebecca sent to the city of rain and Yugi with one less unwanted limb (with how much Rebecca clung to me, she was an arm extension).
Promises to keep in touch were exhanged, with my fingers crossed behind me. Rebecca hugged me with all the strength a nine-year-old could muster before departing dejectedly, energy seemingly drained by the creases she left on my shirt. The adults thought I was faking cheer to not upset Rebecca, but the happiness was real. The smile wouldn't have stayed after their departure if I were keeping up appearance, but Mom didn't figure that out, so I wasn't scolded.
I left the airport in my fists-crumpled shirt, courtesy of Rebecca's almost-unyielding hold, dragging my mom to the arcade with a new bounce in my step and a strength in my pull stolen from Rebecca's hands. I might have went to the wrong direction, but it was a direction away from Rebecca nonetheless (and Mom redirected me halfway, so I still got to play). I remember thinking good riddance.
Okay, now that I think back on it, that last bit was immature of me.
Still, Rebecca's show of affection could use some mitigating. I was hoping the time away would have done that. Because openly rejecting didn't do the trick. Turns out absence makes the heart grow fonder. Damn.
In Earth everyone has seven look-alikes, and taking my admittedly peculiar hair into account, let's reduce that number to four for me. I've found one in Asia; Couldn't she have met another in Europe? The world is a smaller place, what with advancing technologies and easy travel.
Maybe I run out of luck, only having three doppelgangers and the third being the dead pharaoh.
Why does Rebecca have to be so shallow?
She should stop obsessing over a pharaoh's face and instead find someone who's a pharaoh on the inside: peremptory and omniscient. ...Like Seto?
Egocentric and wiseacre seem close enough.
Never mind. He's too old for her.
Plus, Seto doesn't take any competition lightly (I swear that's the reason why he still keeps contact to this day, because he hasn't defeated me in Duel Monsters yet) and will likely test who's a better genius between the two of them. Rebecca isn't one to back out from a challenge either.
I wouldn't know who to root for.
I find each of them tolerably annoying in their own way. I'd want for both of them to lose, and that won't happen unless someone else gets dragged in, and I'm too lazy to be genius, nor do I know another sucker for the job.
If we go back to the face factor, there's always my discovered doppelganger for bait.
Yami probably resembles the nameless pharaoh more than I do. He's more mature in appearance, all sharp contours and jagged lines. On the other hand, baby fat still stubbornly clings to my cheeks and I doubt they'll be melting soon. That, coupled with my disappointing height and puberty-rejected voice, it seems I'll be forever young at the price of ID-faking accusations from movie theatres and bars for eighteen-and-overs. Online is not a problem, though. I can even photoshop my picture or just use Yami's if other people are dubious. What I won't tell he won't know—
A force yanks the back of my collar; I take a step back, following in surprise. I turn to meet a set of red eyes. Did I call the devil?
"What's the point of glasses if you're still walking into walls?" Yami says, amusement lacing his tone. He lets go of my shirt.
I look back, the previously unnoticed wall blocking my sight. I just narrowly avoided a surprise face-to-wall meeting there. Almost karma. "Ah, thanks. I didn't notice."
"You were spacing out. Found some cheese in the moon, Cadet? Send the rabbit my regards the next time you go," he jokes. How does he even know about the cheese myth?
"No luck in the moon, but there's your joke. It's so cheesy, Joey could eat it," I retort.
"I thought you'd say corny."
"I was gonna. That's the right term and it was corny, but mine wouldn't have been." Explaining a joke makes it unfunny.
"Joey can eat that too!" he exclaims.
We resume walking. I try not to drift too deep into my thoughts as I keep pace with Yami. I got sidetracked. What was I thinking again? Oh yeah. Getting Rebecca a friend in my place. But how to introduce the new prey to the predator?
"Are you free after school this Thursday? You should come over," I tell him, setting the plan into place.
"What's the occasion?" he asks. I realise that it's the first time I'm inviting him over.
"Thanksgiving."
"Isn't that an American holiday? I'm Japanese."
"Yeah. It's usually a family affair, but friends are allowed over as well."
"Won't I be intruding?" Either he's shy or doesn't want to come over, but both are under the guise of politeness.
"You won't be. I have a relative who's visiting, and I can't stand her much. I prefer your company." And if she happens to prefer your company as well, I wouldn't mind either.
Should I be feeling guilt?
I've dealt with his fangirls; it's high time he deals with mine. One more won't hurt him, I hope. Anyways, unlike Vivian, the closest to aggresive Rebecca's gotten is her hugs.
I'll buy him a sandwich if things go awry.
"Okay. I'll go," he concedes, a smile lighting up his face. It startles me for a second, and my steps falter. "What's it about, though? Besides from giving thanks, obviously."
"Forced civility and dead turkey," I answer simply. I refocus my eyes on the road to stop myself from gawking. Somehow that smile was different than usual.
"That sound exciting..." he comments emphatically.
"We're only really there for the food."
