The X-Effect
- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Marik -
- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou –
It's been so long once more. Did you all think I forgot about you? I felt really guilty about not updating, and I really do apologize for this long drawn-out thing, but I had some debilitating family problems these past few months and finally, it all sort of snapped. Updates will be few and far in between, but I will try my best to keep this going! This is a pretty filler chapter, again, so I really apologize. It moves everything along as well as it can, though, so I guess you all will have to make due.
Next chapter, hopefully, should be advancing everything much more than this. Enjoy!
Chapter 9: Case in Point
They had almost completely forgotten the history project— almost.
Mr. Satoshi brought the topic back up that day during class. He hadn't spoken about it otherwise up until that point, so for the most part Bakura blamed him for it. Either way there they were, sitting in class while listening to him ramble on about the topics— it was decided it would be ancient culture. Mariku had attempted to get Egypt as the topic, but their teacher was quick to shoot him down (almost literally— the blond had rushed up with the "claim a topic" paper filled out and gotten it smacked out of his hand and onto the desk by the ruler Mr. Satoshi held).
Mariku walked back to desk moodily, muttering how they ended up with Ancient Greece instead. Bakura, somewhat disappointed, decided perhaps it was best in the end. Mariku was probably skewed on his actual thoughts of how Egypt had been, anyway, from the way he would talk about certain things (read: practically all of them). Greece was better than what they could've had (and what, hilariously enough, the idiot Jounouchi ended up with) if nothing else.
"Okay," Bakura began absently, skimming over the requirement sheet. "We need to do a presentation— either via the computer, like PowerPoint or something, or on a project board. It's probably easier if we—"
Mariku let out a noisy yawn, successfully interrupting his partner. Bakura glared, as if the aspect was unheard of, before Mariku flashed an almost sympathetic grin. Almost.
"I didn't sleep a lot last night," he explained. "My bad."
Bakura only rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, anyway: poster board or PowerPoint— take your pick, here," the white-haired teen snapped moodily.
"I don't know what either of those are, but I'm bored, so I will go with the first one," Mariku decided as he pointed one finger absently into the air. Bakura stared, his face a cross between confusion and utmost annoyance. He didn't say anything for a moment— he just sat there and quietly observed her partner as if to deduce whether or not he was serious.
"That is the single stupidest reason ever to pick an option," he finally stated, his eye twitching.
Mariku snorted. "No, the stupidest would've been: I like the initials PB better, so I chose poster board."
"… I stand corrected," Bakura admittedly numbly, rubbing his temple absently with his fingers. "Point taken, but still— stupid."
"But not the stupidest," Mariku added with some sick sense of pride.
Bakura rolled his eyes. "No, that title goes to you."
"Oh fuck you, Cloudy."
(-)
If there was one thing that Malik hated, it was being out of the loop. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He hated a lot of things, really— but at the very moment he really hated feeling like he had no control over what was going on around him. It bugged him because he liked to be in control— he sought it, he desired it. Knowing he was on the outside of the information bothered him almost more than he would ever care to admit.
So when he started getting brushed off by both Ryou and Mariku, he was, needless to say, more than irritated.
He sought advice in the last person he thought he would.
Honestly, even Bakura, someone he could barely stand, was higher up in the "people he'd suck it up and ask for help from" list— but his pride was just not letting him ask the white-haired boy this time around. That opportunity fell on none other than Anzu Mazaki.
Malik barely knew the girl. He had spoken to Anzu a few times, because she was in his Literature class along with Ryou, but she always hit the wrong chord with him somehow. He wasn't sure if it was the bizarre combination of tomboy and prep, or the fact that she spoke a little too highly of friendship for his tastes (not like Mutou Yugi was any better, however).
Either way: unfortunately, that "friendship serenade" was exactly what he was going for, at least in some way. Holding in a sigh, he walked over to the brown-haired girl during literature class, absently rubbing the back of his neck. She looked up at him and grinned, twirling her pencil around a few times in her hand.
"Hey, Malik-kun!" She greeted. "What's up?"
The blond shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets awkwardly. He tried to ignore the overly friendly "-kun" best he could. "I was wondering if…" He bit his cheek, averting his eyes. 'Just say it, come on,' he silently urged himself. "Do you think I could I get some advice from you?" he finally asked, looking back to her. He wasn't worried about being shot down for help, because that girl would help a murderer probably (given they apologized and promised friendship or something, that is). He was just worried that she'd—
"Oh, of course, I can!" Anzu immediately exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "I'd love to help you out, Malik-kun! That's not a problem at all! Here, here, sit down in this desk and we can talk! Or I guess you could stand there too, whichever you want, because either is fine with me, just whatever makes you most comfortable—"
— she'd do that.
Were girls (aside from Sister) always this talkative?
Frowning, Malik held up a hand, which successful stopped her rambling. "Uh, that's… fine. I'm good, er, Mazaki-san," he said slowly. Anzu seemed unaffected by the look (although she looked slightly put off by him using her last name and not her first, but he tried to chalk that up to his imagination) and just grinned again.
"So, what's up?" she chirped, resting her chin in her hands. "Tell me your woes," she teased, laughing.
Malik's frown lifted a little. Smiling just slightly, he scratched the back of his head awkwardly with a chuckle. "Sure… Well, I was wondering… Do you know a good way to talk to someone? How do I figure out what's wrong with a person?"
Anzu looked at him as if he were stupid. Maybe he was. "You just ask them?" She replied slowly. "I mean, unless there's more to that."
"There's more to that," Malik insisted, leaning back on the desk-chair behind him. "I get brushed off and he won't respond. The problem is, that person is my brother—"
"Oh, that's a whole new ballgame."
"Yeah," Malik agreed numbly, sighing and leaning his head back absently to stare at the ceiling, "yeah it is."
"Don't mean to assume, but he doesn't seem like the type to openly talk anyway," Anzu admitted with a sheepish smile, as if she thought Malik would be offended at the statement— but the Egyptian boy only shrugged, shaking his head. It was true, anyway.
"He would seem like it, yes— and most of the time, no, he doesn't outright tell me what's on his mind," Malik begun, lolling his head forward to look at her passively, "but this time it's different. He's not only acting oddly in the case of brushing me off and doing weird things, he's saying bizarre things."
The brunette frowned. "Is he? Like what?"
"'Stop incessantly talking, you dumb blond.'"
Anzu raised a brow, looking confused, but said nothing as he mouth opened and closed a few times. Finally, she repeated: "Dumb… blond?"
Malik smiled despite himself. "We had been talking about where to eat after work," he explained. "I mentioned a few places but after I bounced the third place off him, he got inexplicably mad, called me that, and then stormed off. I had to jog to keep up with his pace… football's starting to show through in his endurance."
"I guess that is bizarre," Anzu acknowledged the first half, crossing her arms. "Perhaps it's some sort of 'fitting in' phase? He might be hanging around those jocks too much," she muttered distastefully. "They have a tendency to corrupt even the calmest boy that joins the team."
"You speak as if from experience," Malik remarked, half-joking. Anzu just smiled in an almost all-knowing way.
"I sort of am," she agreed. "I knew someone once, a long time ago. Regardless," Anzu shrugged. "They aren't exactly the nicest people around. It might be their influence affecting him."
"Maybe," Malik replied, absently taking the thought into consideration. It was a possibility. This whole thing had started after football, but he doubted it was the only contributing factor, if it was one at all. "I guess I just—" He trailed off weakly as the bell rang and the teacher clapped his hands together, calling for the students to take their seats. Ryou, who had been ignoring Malik before class, was staring over at the empty seat beside him as if just realizing his blond companion was gone. He looked over to Malik and smiled sheepishly before returning his eyes to the front of the room.
Malik sighed, reluctant to leave despite the initial thought of how annoying the girl could be. She probably had good advice. Anzu chuckled, as if sensing his conflict, and smiled at the bronzed-skin boy. "We can talk more at lunch, you want," she offered.
"Sure. Thanks," Malik agreed, nodding to Anzu as he went to sit down. It would be a long day until then.
(-)
He was talking to her.
Of all people, he was talking to her.
No one really noticed Bakura's sudden irritation, or if they did they knew better than to ask about it. Bakura was constantly irritable, after all, that was really nothing new— and for him to be angry over seemingly nothing? It was a regular routine that wasn't exactly missed (on the rare occasions the white-haired boy was in not a decent mood, per say, but rather one of impassiveness). When he was as touchy as he was at the moment, he didn't always lash out (but by no times was that foolproof— he had hit Jounouchi once or twice on a particular bad day that the blond decided to push Bakura's buttons more than he should've).
Usually, Bakura was almost eerily quiet (past the point of "normal" silence from him) and bore a sour but deadly look on his face. Occasionally, it was directed towards someone but for the most part, the table got the brunt force of the glare. He would get over it eventually and sometimes he was even over it by the end of lunch (although that was rare in itself). The others at the table knew to just let him be until then.
So when Bakura showed all the telltale signs of a bad day, it was needless to say that no one was surprised.
What surprised them, rather, was actually the reason their "friend" was angry in the first place— even though they didn't realize it at the time.
Anzu, distracted from the lunch line, was animatedly chatting with Malik as the two stood off to the side of the cafeteria. While Malik looked less enthused, he was still participating in the chatter with his own gestures (one-handed, considering he was holding his lunch) despite them being a lot less energetic and much more subtle. Yugi, focusing on their lips in an attempt to decipher their conversation, was having little to no luck relaying the information.
Honda, meanwhile, was practically dying of curiosity. "What do you think they're talking about?" The brunet asked, cupping his chin in thought as he stared over in their friends' direction.
"Dunno," Jounouchi replied, absently munching on a sandwich. "I just can't believe Mal's talking to her— I didn't think they'd get along at all," he admitted. Otogi gave him a look that read both "are you an idiot?" and "I question your sanity" at the same time.
"Maybe he has the hots for her," Otogi put in thoughtfully, chuckling after a moment. The thought was bizarre, though he supposed even the quiet and rough-around-the-edges type of guy like Malik could fall for someone like Anzu. Although to be honest, it was sort of hard to believe. As if to reassure himself, he added: "You never know. They would make a pretty couple."
Yugi looked upset at this— it was no secret that he had liked Anzu since childhood. The thought of even more competition (and one like Malik, none the less, because even Yugi would admit that the foreign boy was good-looking) was irritating and really un-needed. He didn't want a rival, especially one that was also his friend. It was bad enough "competing" for her affection against people he hardly knew.
Mariku, deciding to actually contribute to the conversation at seeing Yugi's face, snorted. "Don't worry, small fry," the elder Egyptian twin started casually, a smirk splitting his lips. "He isn't gonna go for your girlfriend—"
"Sh-she's not my girlfriend!" Yugi quickly interrupted, waving his hands defensively as he flushed slightly. Mariku just shrugged, his eyes closing absently as that smirk stayed on his face. Yugi tried to ignore him, tuning back into the other boys' conversation.
"If you keep staring, man, they're going to see you," Jounouchi pointed out to Honda, who was still trying to see what their friends were doing. "Try explainin' that."
Honda was undeterred and only frowned, tearing his eyes away for merely a moment. "They aren't going to see me, chill out. They're too absorbed in each other, anyway. Seriously, what could they possibly be talking about?" he wondered aloud, throwing his hands into the air by his head. He was frustrated.
"You?" Otogi provided, and received a harsh glare in response. "I was joking, calm down," the black-haired boy defended, frowning. Honda huffed, ignoring his friend and turned his gaze back to Anzu and Malik. "You might as well go find binoculars at this rate, I hope you know," Otogi muttered. Jounouchi snickered and Yugi sighed, but Honda's eyes lit up.
"Actually, that's a great idea—" The brunet was already standing up and turning. Otogi slapped his forehead.
"What?" He muttered in exasperation, "No, it's not! It's a horrible idea. Really now, don't you have any common sense?" Otogi admonished, glaring at the other teenager through his fingers. Honda returned the glare and sat back down, muttering someone about 'stupid pretty boys and their bizarre ideas.' Otogi paid no mind and just rubbed his temples.
Kaiba was at the end of his string, having listened to everyone's arguments, and was tired of the roundabout logic. With a harsh tone, he snapped: "Why don't you lot just mind your own business? Is that completely foreign to you lot?"
Ryou frowned and spoke up now, finally finding his voice. "Yeah, please guys, just… let's leave them be? I don't see the big deal."
"There isn't one," Jounouchi defended with a serious face, but he started laughing after a moment. "Yeah, okay, fine. So, 'Riku," Jounouchi turned to the Egyptian boy. "How's football been goin'?"
Mariku studied the other boy for a moment before declaring (with both annoyance and confusion), "why the hell are you talking to me?"
The two bantered back and forth for a bit (banter mostly consisting of "I'm just chatting to you, man" - "well don't" - "why?" - "because you're annoying" - "but we're friends" - "the hell we are" and such) before Anzu strode over purposefully. Malik trailed behind her, the two still absently chatting a little but for the most part, the conversation died off as they reached earshot of the table.
"Thanks again," the blond said vaguely. "You were helpful," he admitted with a smile. He sat down next to Ryou (he and Mariku were amusing themselves by switching places where they sat at lunch— it threw people like Kaiba, who required regularity and a schedule, off) while Anzu sat in her regular seat by Jounouchi.
"Of course," Anzu replied, nodding with a cheerful smile.
Mariku ignored her and looked up at his twin, raising a brow. Something silent passed between them, but Malik waved him off along with a roll of the eyes. Purple eyes narrowed, and the older twin silently watched his brother who soon got dragged into a conversation with Honda.
It seemed like now they both had their secrets.
(-)
"Why were you talking to that girl, earlier?"
Malik looked up from the mixing bowl, glancing behind himself as his brother walked into the room. "That girl?" He parroted, frowning as he returned his attention to the dinner he was fixing. "Mazaki, you mean?" He heard Mariku mutter something (it sounded like "yeah, sure, whatever her name is") and assumed he was right. "I was asking her opinion on something, that's all. Why do you ask?"
"Curiosity," Mariku admitted, leaning on the table with his hands in his pockets absently. "Hey, can you cover my shift tomorrow?"
"No," Malik replied with missing a beat, starting to whip whatever was in the bowl. "I actually don't have to work then, and I didn't plan to. I was going to go the library after school— why do you need me to take it?" He frowned, glancing once more over his shoulder. His twin shrugged, looking upwards to the ceiling before he pursed his lips irritably.
"I had plans, too, and they ended up over-lapping," he explained vaguely, absently counting the tiles. Malik's attention was back to dinner.
Malik continued to whisk the food without much care. "Football, huh."
'Not even close.' "Yeah," Mariku instead replied, sighing dramatically. "Stupid practice." 'Nope, nope, nope. Practice actually doesn't get in the way at all, today, and I can't believe you bought that.' "So you can't do it, then, huh."
"I can, but I won't," Malik replied moodily, shaking his head. "I'm not going to take over your responsibilities. Figure it out yourself. Hey, can you get out another bowl from the cupboard for me?"
Sighing once more, the older twin lugged himself off the table and over towards the wooden cabinets. He rifled through them, muttering something about 'too many stupid bowls in here' before deciding on a medium-sized white one. Shoving it up onto the counter, Malik graciously pulled it over to him, continuing his chore.
"Thanks."
"Yeah."
The twins fell into silence, the only sounds being the metal against the glass bowl, the oven binging, and Malik's occasional humming. As if on cue, after a few moments, Mariku heard the cell phone in the other room go off. "Damn, about time something happened," he commented, walking out of the kitchen to find the source of the (strange and oddly Japanese) ring-tone. After searching for a few seconds, he found the device underneath the cushion. As much as he'd love to blame his brother for it, that was probably his fault. Ignoring the actual admittance of guilt, he grabbed the phone the two of them shared and flipped it open.
[ Change of plans. Meet me behind the museum after your shift. ]
It was like he could read minds. Mariku typed back a fast response ( [ fine ] ) before deleting the message. He couldn't really risk Malik finding out, considering they could only afford the one phone for the two of them at that moment in time. It was more trouble than it was worth at most points, which was why the first moment he could afford it the older Ishtar twin intended to buy himself a new phone. Malik could have this crappy old thing.
Sighing, Mariku shoved the phone into his pocket. For a moment, he spaced out. Was all this really a good idea? It could end up with him being a load of trouble, and if Malik didn't approve…
He shook his head. He couldn't really think about that right now. Cupping a hand around his mouth, he shouted into the kitchen: "I got my shift figured out, Mal, don't worry about it! Everything's fine now."
"Great!"
Everything's fine now.
Everything's fine now.
Wow, was that a lie.
I'm not trailing off all mysteriously on purpose. I'm really not. It sure seems that way though, doesn't it? Force of habit, I guess... /rambling/
Anyway, like I said, more development and a little more "insight" to whatever Mariku could possibly be up to. Any more guesses, friends? Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it! Read & Review & Critique please! Thanks for, once more, sticking with me. You guys are the reason I'm able to keep going! ( Q A Q)``