Prologue: Isolated Insanity
Even in his sleep, he forms the same expression he wears before any verbal dispute or confrontation, a condescending smirk that seems capable of destroying any confidence his opponent has. In his face, I see more than just the composition of his features--the high cheek bones, soft, feathery hair, long lashes and graceful maturity of a developed male—
The other traits are present, too—
Attributes that I happen to despise the most.
He's so…arrogant. Conceited. Completely egotistical. Self-delusional at best.
And everyone thought Kaiba was the real asshole of the group.
No, this one here surpasses any belittling comment that the executive has ever dreamed of vocalizing, is the epitome of senseless pride and the true reason for so many domestic disputes among comrades and peers of mine--
"Yami, you're so talented!"
"Can you show me how to be a great duelist like you?"
"May I have your autograph?"
"Where do you get your clothes from?"
"Are you single?"
"How did you get such good friends like Joey, Tea, and Tristen?"
"Will you help me work this math problem?"
"Is it okay to hang out with you once in a while?"
Yes, Yami. That's all I ever hear, requests for him, the almighty pharaoh, to bless one fan or another with a tutoring drill here or a fashion escapade there. It sickens me! Yami, Yami, Yami! Is that the only word my friends and acquaintances know? Don't they have any better vocabulary words than the title of some outdated mummy who should have stayed buried in Egypt? Damn it, anyways! Why? What makes him so wonderful? He looks like an anorexic vampire, for crying out loud! Is that what females fall for these days, some wiry guy so pale and frail that he looks like a recovering heroin addict?
Turning over on his side, the king of flings murmured, "You're not going anywhere until I'm through with you. I've got to win this, for my sake alone."
Rolling my eyes to the heavens, I shook my head disdainfully. So the ruler of the Nile also dreams about eternal victory. How preciously devout he is.
"Not for long, I'm afraid." I whisper, unable to hide the rush of excitement in my voice.
Keeping a wary eye on the sleeping master, I reached into my school jacket, fingering the contents of my pocket for the object of my desire. Immediately, I felt the brush of cold steel crossing my flesh, and rescued the device from its solitary confinement.
This is it.
I am finally going to accomplish the impossible.
"Pity," I said in a mocking tone, ceremoniously drawing the dagger I held in front of myself, "I wish there was more time for us."
Passing my gaze over the other male's frame, I closed my eyes and plunged the blade I held into my alter-ego's chest.