AN

Okay, I know. This story has been dead for like, forever. And it's still dead. I don't really remember where I was going with this when I wrote it, and I don't want to try to continue it regardless of inspiration, and it was a borrowed idea anyways. So it is not, in fact, being continued. What is happening is that Nightengale discovered three chapters of Pyrotechnics which she did not remember she still had. And so you get to see them. But this is all there is. Thanks to the handful of you who are reading--and of course, to Phoenix Tamer and Sapphire Wolf for letting me do their story my way in the first place. And thanks to Serena4, who betaed this oh so long ago when it was written (like a year?).

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or any of its characters. If I did, do you really think I'd waste my time talking to you about them instead of talking to them?

[]

Incidental Pyrotechnics

Incident Three: Haute-Coiffure Conflagration

Fifth period at Domino High, eight minutes to bell. Salon.

Tristan was bored. Very bored. Making a physical effort not to audibly yawn, the self-proclaimed "badass" carefully held a curling iron close to the scalp of a head-and-shoulders mannequin currently sporting a half- completed coif. Meanwhile, Mai Valentine was bent over the far side of the head, intently working leave-in conditioning gel into the dummy's hair, section by small section.

"Tristan, if you're gonna curl the damn thing, at least do it right," Téa Gardener spat, stomping over to her partner and yanking the iron out of his slack grip.

"Come on, Téa, you can't expect me to really care about this, can you? I mean, how stupid is it, spending an hour making one hairdo?"

"Ask Serenity that if you ever get within twenty feet of her in a ballgown," Téa teased, winking at Mai over the mannequin's growing updo. Tristan made a halfhearted swipe at the back of her head, but pulled his hand quickly away as the petite girl brought the curling iron up to intercept his attack.

"You know, Tristan," Mai continued, as she arranged some gracefully dangling curls around the mannequin's face, "you might wanna actually pay attention to what Téa and I are doing, here. I mean, you definitely need the points in class-" here she snickered, glancing at Téa, who rolled her eyes "-and it wouldn't hurt if you could learn some tricks for yourself. You could always help Serenity, since she can't see for herself. I'm sure she'd love someone besides her nurses doing her hair for once. And she does have such beautifully long, smooth, auburn hair."

Tristan blushed as bright as said tresses, managing a strangled "Hey!" before Téa cut back in.

"Tristan, we all know you only took this course for the girls. Well, I'm a girl, and you know what? You're gonna do something for me: you're gonna do well on this project, or you'll bring down both Mai's and my grades, and you don't wanna see what I'd do to you then. Take this iron back, and do it right!"

Several of the girls at nearby stations giggled and pantomimed cracking a whip in the air as Tristan, still blushing and docile, took back the curling iron and followed Téa's orders, mumbling as he did so,

"You didn't have to be so mean about it, Téa."

Mai stood up from her work on the front curls of the hairdo, and stretched her arms over her head, arching her back and letting a small, rather pitiful, "mou" escape her lips.

"What's up, Mai?" questioned Téa.

"Well, I think I got it. I mean, I did it right, but it still doesn't look quite right, and I doubt it'd stay in if she shakes the head to test it. Plus I've been bending over so long my back's killing me!"

"Lemme see, Mai. Which side's got the problem?"

"Both of them."

As his partners crouched down in front of the mannequin head to scrutinize its frontal aspect, Tristan rested his hands lightly on the crown of the head and sighed. His attention quickly drifted to a group across the room, which had elected to create an updo with many French fishtail braids built into the sides, and was running into issues with frizz control. He chuckled inwardly as one of the girls emptied half a bottle of hairspray onto the left side of her head in an attempt to make its hair stay in style, but nevertheless was disappointed by half of the braids on that side popping out of place.

Tristan's attention was painfully snapped back to his own situation via Mai's screech. He looked down at his hands, and the thick tendrils of smoke curling around them, and yelped. Letting go of the curling iron, which was already fully buried in the wig, Tristan hastily leaped back several feet as tiny, baby-tongues of flames began licking out from between the sections of hair.

Typical to Tristan, however, he didn't watch where he was jumping to as he beat his retreat, and so he crashed into the wall of haircare products behind him, causing several to fall to the linoleum below. A small scream from Téa punctuated his fall, and then a great shivering and shattered roar followed. The more fragile bottles of hair products-the expensive glass- bottled cremés, the gels in hard-plastic jars of candy colors-had shattered as they hit the floor, fallen because their glass shelves were crushed from underneath them by Tristan's bulk. Though they were all rather viscous liquids, the goos spread quickly enough to cause Mai to lose her stiletto- heeled footing. She tripped over the cord of the curling iron as she jumped forward to aid Tristan, who'd slid down to the floor, leaning dazedly up against the wall of bottles, and with one small jar of scented hair oil stuck in his hair.

The smoldering dummy head toppled over, yanked off-balance by the curling- iron cord, and as it hit the puddles of hair sauces and gels, set them up in fire. The classroom's entire population screeched as the orange blaze in the corner became apparent, and the instructor stayed just as cool and collected as the best of her students, who were currently on their knees praying to their gods to save their slaved-over coiffures. Tristan jumped sky-high as the floor he was sitting on erupted in flame, and Téa extended her arms to him and Mai, yanking them out of the quickly-building inferno. They ran towards the door, Téa flapping at Tristan's still-smoking pants with a washcloth, and joined the rest of their panicking class in the hallway as they all made a mad dash for the exits.

[]

AN: Poor Tristan!! Read and review, please! And remember to thank the YGO cast for tolerating me while I put them through this, and PT and SW for letting me post!