Chapter Four: Where is the Love?

"Will you stop singing the song that way?" demanded the green-eyed boy.

Yami Bakura rolled his violet orbs in such a way that only the whites of his eyes could be seen. "You should be happy I'm even participating in this zombie festival." snapped the millennium spirit bitterly.

"I am, but not how you're going about doing so."

"What's so wrong with what I sound like?"

"For starters, you can stop chanting 'Glory to me in the highest.' " said Ryou. He was angrier than a cat who got its tail stepped on, but tried to hold on to his composure as best as he could. "We are here to praise the Lord, not you."

"He's not my God." grumbled the bearer of the ring coldly. "I don't want anything to do with Him, his self-righteous saints, or any of those other snotty fat cats who think they own the world."

"Keep that filthy tongue to yourself and wash it with the correct lyrics of Christ!" ordered the white-haired teen, the fires of irritation and fury flaring in his dark orbs.

Snorting in disgust, the taller male inquired, "Why? So I can hear about how I'm going to hell after I leave here?"

Swallowing his raged, the shorter person drew in a nice, slow breath and stared at the ceiling. "Yami, I'd be surprised if hell would take you." he commented, studying the masterful architecture of the wooden beams overhead.

"That's right, so I should just set this down here," agreed the tomb robber, shutting his hymnal and practically throwing the text back in its placeholder, "and I'll see you around eleven or twelve tomorrow." Quickly vacating the premises, he turned around, spotted an open door, then made a break from it all, but--

"Get back here." the hikari calmly told his escape artist of an Egyptian. His pale and slender fingertips had Bakura's collar caught in them, a nice, snug fit that allowed the school boy to make a decent capture of his runaway comrade. "I'm not going to let you cause anymore embarrassment just because you can't stop acting like a child with A.D.D."

"But whyyyyy?" whined the snowy-haired individual in a childish accent. "I don't wanna be here! I don't wanna sing this tone deaf junk! I don't wanna--"

"Hear anymore of your infantile moaning and complaining." finished Ryou, slightly more annoyed than he had been before. Plucking his millennium spirit's former song book from its location on the shelf, he flipped through the gently worn pages, sound the piece the rest of the church was following along to, then shoved the material at his yami. "Take it," ordered the adolescent frostily, "and don't allow a single remark of displeasure to echo from those lips. Do I make myself clear?" When his counterpart didn't reach for the hymnal, the brown-eyed male repeated, "Well, do I make myself clear or not?" There was no mistaking the steely edge his voice contained. Either the tomb robber would take the hardback by himself and sing sweetly like a good little hell raiser, or he would be forced to go without heavy metal music for the next few months. Actually, the latter consequence would be just fine by the pale pupil, since he couldn't stand listening to Marilyn Manson or Nine Inch Nails at any time during the day or night. People who looked like they were resurrected from a grave of cross-dressing insanity should be skinned and put out of their misery--or so the light-skinned student thought.

Grinding his teeth together, the rebellious millennium spirit evaluated his mortal equivalent. The young totalitarian had his arms crossed in front of his chest and stood rigidly, almost as if he were under inspection by a drill sergeant. His big umber eyes stared back at the Egyptian expectantly, watching, waiting for the decision about to be made.

Meanwhile, Yugi had his own troubles to deal with-namely a taller replica of himself that insisted on being possessed by mischief. Somehow during the opening song, Yami no Yugi had clamped a set of headphones down over his ears, a headpiece that acted more like a world broadcast system than a listening device. In front of God and everybody, the pharaoh from Egypt's ancient days bebopped around his seat, mimicking his favorite rapper's gangster language with his hands. Mutou's jaw dropped as his poor head was assaulted by a slew of trash talk, music so barbaric and crude that only his immature counterpart would deem the material worth listening to.

"So will the Real Slim Shady please stand up," sang the puzzle spirit, oblivious to everyone around him, including the very pissed hikari glaring him down with hellfire eyes. "and put one a those fingers on each hand up!" Before his enraged equivalent could react, he folded his fingers down into his palm--all except for a very unholy limb--the one classically used to tell people what they could do if they had a problem with something or another. Bouncing his head like a homie from Chicago would, the Egyptian worked his body in such a provocative way that every family surrounding him covered their children's eyes.

Mutou, who felt a little like swearing himself now, growled, "Yami! Shut it off!"

"So be proud to be outta ya head--"

"I said turn that satanic stuff off!"

"And outta your mind--"

"Now! Do it! Do it before I take that cord and use it like a noose on you--"

"One more time! Loud as ya can! How does it go--"

"LIKE THIS!" yelled the darker side of a once gentle and passive boy. With powerful emotion finally overriding his good judgment, the young male tore the speakers from his friend's head, confiscated the CD player, then quickly shoved the electronic into his jacket pocket. Turning to face his comrade (who appeared to be torn between crying or wetting himself), the angel of justice glowered darkly, almost daring his alter-ego to make one more false move. "What's wrong with you?" snarled Yugi, his canine fangs bared in such a terrible manner that he looked like a vampire lusting for blood.

"You're going to kill me now, aren't you?" asked Yami tremulously. His eyes looked so big and scary that tears might gush from his ruby depths at any minute.

"Do you want me to?" Yugi shot back, his tone still laced with deadly poison.

Pharaoh gulped in hesitation. Nervously, he shifted his weight, mirroring a child doing the bathroom dance to catch a bored parent's attention. Words stuck uncomfortably in his throat, so all he could manage was a slight shake of his head.

Just as he had feared, the high schooler's temper flared again, this time exceeding the normal bounds of fury. "Then why do you provoke me like this?" cried the petite adolescent. "Why do you do this to me? Are you trying to get us kicked out of here? Is that what you want, the entire town to know what a heathen you are, that you love indulging in selfish behavior that not even a rebellious teenager would act out?" Watching the older person shake his head in useless negation, Yugi screeched, "Then what? What could you possibly have to gain from being like this?" He saw his counterparts lips move, but couldn't make out the statements. The speech was just too damned soft. Lowering his voice to a decent level, the hikari inquired, "What? What was that?"

"Nothing." the ancient soul said quickly--a little too quickly Yugi suspected.

"No really, what was it?"

"Just a passing thought." Yami said, trying to be cool with a trembling tone, still on the verge of making a break for the nearest church exit. With a shrug, he added, "It's nothing to get worked up over."

Yugi narrowed his eyes. "Why can't I know?"

"No reason, I guess--"

"Then tell me."

"You don't want to know."

"Don't be such a child!" scolded the aspiring duelist, crossing his arms in front of his chest huffily.

Making a terrible face, the other male snapped, "I am not like that!"

"So what do you call what you're being now? Brave? Noble? Honest--"

"Exactly." the Egyptian smiled. Clapping his hands together enthusiastically, he remarked, "It's like you read my mind! I know I'm a great role model and all--"

"Yeah, about as good as Eminem is on a good day."

Pharaoh gave his hikari a puzzled look. "Eminem doesn't really have any g--" Finally understanding Yugi's sarcasm laced phrase, he hung his head. "Oh," he said with a nod, "oh, okay. I get it now."

"Took you long enough!" snapped the shorter male. "I thought the apocalypse would come before anything got through that thick skull of yours!"

"Whoa." Yami countered, pushing the flats of his palms towards his insulting partner. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. That's going too far, don't you think?"

Drawing his brow down, the little aibou set his lips in a thin, straight line, then shot back, "I'm re-evaluating what that is on a minute-by-minute basis with you here."

"Wha--? How could you say something like that?"

"I tend to come up with these things when I am subjected to large amounts of stupidity and immaturity."

"Take that back!" cried the alter-ego in a childish whine.

"No!" his counterpart threw back fiercely, his eyes turning into twin volcanoes.

"Take that back!" demanded Yugioh again, this time adding a brisk shove to emphasize his command.

"Like I said--" the younger male growled, "no!" Driving his point home, he returned his partner's violence, placing both hands on the Egyptian's side then delivering a harsh blow.

"Take it back, take it back, take it back!"

"No, no, NO!"

"You can, and you WILL!"

"NO, NO, NO, NO!!!"

It wasn't very long before Yami drew his Christian sidekick into a messy fight of both words and physical aggression. There, in front of the whole congregation, including the nuns, choir, elderly, AND ministers battled two teenagers—the duo resembling people ages fifteen and twenty going on six. Even Ryou and Bakura ceased their usual argument, mouths gaping, eyes open as wide as the collection plates, barely able to understand that Pharaoh and his hikari were brawling it out worse than they were. Their juvenile phrases evolved into full-blown statements of obscenities, terms that would make even a professional exotic dancer blush. The ring twins could have sworn that they saw birds streaming out from the sides of the church, pretty white doves too horrified and traumatized by what they heard to continue to bask in the presence of the Lord.

"Oh, my God…" Ryou murmured, cheeks all flushed, hair practically standing on end.

The tomb robber smiled an evil smile. "After watching these two, can you honestly tell me one exists?"

Instead of answering the atheistic question, the adolescent asked a simple statement himself, directing his inquiry to the creator himself.

"Where is the love?" asked the boy, his emerald orbs transfixed by the sight of Yugi holding his friend's head under a vat of holy water, "Where oh where is the love?"