Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-gi-oh, math textbooks, school in general, or anything even remotely creepy. I just happen to write about those things.

Author's Note: ...MERRY CHRISTMAS SILVIE-CHAN! Here's your screamshipping ficcie.

Shizuka groaned and slammed her book shut, glaring viciously at the large, bright blue MATH written across the cover. She hated, despised, and positively loathed numbers, and between her surgery and her relocation to Domino City, she was so far behind she was sure she would not catch up until she was old and gray. She leaned her elbow on the hefty book and perched her chin in her cupped palm, gloomily daydreaming about reading this very same book while struggling to get to the kitchen in a walker. Little did she know, those pretty amber eyes of hers were absolute thunderheads, and passersby gave her table a wide berth.

She did not even realize that she was glaring into space. She was just so overwhelmed with schoolwork that she slept very little and had taken to zoning off at random intervals. She had been sent out into the hallway at school for it more than once, though her teachers were worried by her weight loss and the darkening smudges beneath her once-bright eyes. She was wasting away, and the blame was thrown solely on the shoulders of this one innocent textbook.

What made things even worse was her brother and his friends had skipped off to America, dipping their greedy little fingers into Anzu-san's savings to get there. And, of course, no one thought to invite her. Despite being Jounouchi's little sister, she was very easily forgotten by that tight-knit group, often overlooked while she was standing right beside them. It made her feel less than welcome, and her dreams of moving to Domino City and being accepted with open arms had shattered.

At least those two boys paid attention to her, but while she was innocent, she wasn't stupid. She knew what they were after, and while she fluttered her lashes and giggled and played the game, she was careful to remain near her brother while they were around. The only ones to show her any genuine affection were Anzu-san and that strangely quiet white-haired boy who hovered around the edge of the group, his dark eyes always guarded. She couldn't remember his name for the life of her. But it didn't matter, because it seemed as if half the world had traipsed off to America to leave her alone to battle with her schoolwork.

Besides, she wondered moodily, how in the world could her onii-chan and his friends manage to miss so much school and not get kicked out?

Shizuka sighed and grumpily flipped the book back open, searching for the page she had been on. The gigantic math problem sprang upon the page and seemed to laugh at her smugly.

You'll never solve me! it taunted, doing a little dance across the page.

Shizuka glared at the problem, but it simply glared right back, refusing to back down before the gentle girl. She eventually gave up and drew a squiggle line in the corner of the page. The squiggle even seemed to laugh at her.

"I'm never going to pass this class," she lamented, tears springing to her eyes. She felt so vulnerable living in such a large, bustling city without her onii-chan to hold her hand. She was sincerely contemplating moving back to her mother's while her brother and his friends were waltzing around America when she felt more than saw someone sit next to her.

"What are you working on, Shizuka-chan?" a soft, cultured voice asked.

Shizuka blinked and shifted in her chair, a smile blooming when she realized who it was. His name popped into her mind as if by magic. "Bakura-san!" she exclaimed happily, leaning over to give the embarrassed boy a hug. "I'm working on…well, the worst subject in the world." She gestured to the sprawling problem not even a third of the way completed and frowned prettily. "I'd stab it if I could."

He looked amused. "Would you now?"

"Math is evil," she declared expansively.

"Is it really?" He peered over her shoulder at the problem, his snowy hair brushing against her skin. "I could help you if you'd like…"

"Oh, could you?" Shizuka grinned, clasping her hands together in happiness. "I would really appreciate it!"

Bakura ducked his head, a flush crossing his cheeks. "Could you not be so loud?" he murmured, glancing around at all the people watching them. The librarian was glaring at them with a stern look on her face.

"Sorry, Bakura-san," she said, lowering her voice to a near whisper. "You just don't understand how long I've been slaving at this horrid subject. I'm so far behind. If you can truly help me catch up, why…you'd be my savior!"

"Savior, eh?" A peculiar glitter appeared in his eyes. "A worthy title." He leaned back in his chair, suddenly intent on his fingernails. "I'm not offering My services for free, you know."

Shizuka blinked, her brow furrowing.

"I require…assistance with an…art project of Mine." He glanced up at her, and she fancied she saw a red gleam to his eyes; the lighting in here was rather questionable, or perhaps he had problems sleeping, too. "I've heard from your…friends…that you are skilled in sculpting."

It was Shizuka's turn to blush. "Well, I'm decent…"

"Here's the deal," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "I'll tutor you in Math, and you'll help Me with My project. How does that sound?"

"Perfect!"

"Indeed." His gaze dropped once more, a ghost of a smile flitting across his features. "It is done, then. Are you free this weekend? We can begin on Saturday if you'd like." At Shizuka's nod, he pushed his chair back and began to stand up. "I shall see you on Saturday then."

"Wait!" she exclaimed, throwing out a hand to clasp his arm. His skin was oddly cold.

He glanced down at where she held him, and she blushed and let go. "Yes?"

"I, uhm…that is…"

"Yes?" he prompted, quirking a snowy brow.

"I don't know where you live," she concluded lamely.

Bakura blinked and barked a laugh. "That is true," he murmured. Without asking, he plucked her pen out of her hand and opened her notebook to a blank page. With a flourish, he scribbled down directions after asking her a few times if she knew where things were. She leaned close to him, peering over his shoulder as he wrote, near enough that she could smell the spicy scent of his cologne.

"That should do it," he said, tearing out the page and handing it to her. "Saturday at noon. Be on time." He rose from his chair with a surprising grace, looking more like a snake uncoiling from its perch, and began to stride off, people darting out of his way.

"Wait!" Shizuka cried again, wincing at the nasty look the librarian shot her.

Bakura paused, turning around and fixing her with a slightly annoyed look. "Yes?" he asked politely.

"Why aren't you in America?" she asked, rising from her own chair and fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "I mean, onii-chan and his friends are there, and they left me behind, but I wasn't expecting them to leave you behind as well."

"America," he breathed thoughtfully. "So that is where they are." Shaking himself, he smiled at the girl. "They did not invite Me," he said blandly and he waved and left.

Saturday came around much too quickly for Shizuka's liking. Despite the kindness of his offer and his sweet tone of voice, the boy rather intimidated her, and she felt a little anxious about being along in his apartment with him. Bakura-san would never lay a finger on her, of course, but still. Something niggled at the back of her mind, warning her to take a few extra precautions.

That was why a small knife lay nestled between her schoolbooks. Odds were, she would not be able to reach it in time if something happened, and it was more likely to be taken away from her than used effectively, but just having it made her feel better. The boy was just so…inconsistent. She was never sure what to expect from him, and that unnerved her. He was generally very polite, very unassuming, and yet…

Shizuka paused outside of his apartment door, squaring her shoulders and gathering her courage. It's just Bakura-san, she told herself. Nevertheless, before she had left her own apartment, she had sprayed a touch of her favorite perfume onto her pulse points and fluffed up her hair. She had even added a touch of mint-flavored gloss to her lips before dashing out the door, worried about being late. She had luckily arrived almost exactly on time, and for her, that was splendid; she was usually less than punctual.

Putting a sunny smile on her face, Shizuka took a deep breath and knocked.

A few moments passed until the door opened, revealing a rather tired-looking Bakura, complete with mussed hair and bloodshot eyes. Tufts of his hair seemed to lift away from his head almost like horns.

"Oh dear," she said before she could contain herself, not realizing how rude she sounded. "What happened to you?"

"Long night," he said shortly, moving aside so she could enter.

She slipped past him and glanced around his small apartment, absently wondering who had done all of the decorating, if one could even call it that. It looked as if pieces of furniture and wall hangings and carpets had been thrown together haphazardly, and ancient-looking trinkets lay scattered amongst piles of books and papers. Her smile turned genuine as she watched him scrambling about, tucking books and papers and paraphernalia into corners and clearing off the couches and end tables. The living room had so much furniture she was amazed it all fit.

"So sorry about the mess, Shizuka-chan," he said distantly, blinking feverishly. "Could I get you anything? Cakes, cookies? I could make some tea if you'd like…"

Shizuka was a little taken aback by his politeness. He had been rather abrupt in the library, and this sudden show of concern for her comfort in his home made her heart flutter. Again with his inconsistency! He seemed awfully inconspicuous, though. Perhaps she had been silly thinking she needed to watch herself around him.

"Tea would be nice, thank you," she said softly, smiling at him. "I could help…"

"No, no, have a seat," he said, gesturing towards the couches and darting into the kitchen. "I won't be long, Shizuka-chan!"

She seated herself on a wide, oddly-colored couch, setting her schoolbag on the newly cleared coffee table and eyeing a stack of magazines curiously. Her good manners outweighed her curiosity, however, and she stayed seated, hands folded in her lap. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, focusing absently on the sounds of Bakura-san puttering around in the kitchen.

After a while, Shizuka grew restless, wondering exactly how long it took to prepare tea. She stood up and wandered over to a bookcase, running her fingers along the spines and silently berating herself for being so nosy. The tomes were old and very odd, many of them in languages she could not understand. The other titles hinted at things that she never expected Bakura-san to be interested in. One of them promised a batch of dark spells, and she found her eyes locked onto the crooked words etched into the spine as if she had no other choice but to stare. The letters began to swim, but their meaning seemed imprinted in her mind, beckoning her to pluck the book out and peruse its brittle pages. She could almost imagine that the book was speaking to her, begging her to read it.

She gave a violent start when a strong hand settled onto her shoulder, and she spun around, blushing and stammering an apology.

Bakura-san was staring at her with an unreadable expression. "Tea's ready."

They sat on the couch in silence, each sipping their tea. Bakura-san did not seem to mind the quiet, but it dug beneath her skin like a knife and she could not stop squirming. She still felt awfully bad for poking around his bookcase, though her eyes were continually drawn back to the peculiar books. He finally seemed to pick up on her anxiousness and proposed that they begin the tutoring.

She almost wished they could just sit in silence for the rest of the day.

The sun had set by the time they finished and Shizuka on the verge of tears. No matter how many times Bakura-san explained a problem she just could not seem to solve it on her own. She found herself looking to him for guidance more often than not, and grew increasingly frustrated.

"Oh I give up!" she exclaimed, tossing her notebook across his living room and pouting.

He nodded, his eyes dancing with laughter. "How about we take a short break, and then you can see My project?"

Shizuka perked up, her minor tantrum forgotten. "I've been curious about that since you mentioned it," she admitted shyly. "Onii-chan doesn't have any art projects, nor do any of his friends."

The boy frowned. "Yes, well, allow Me to show you, since you seem so eager." He stood up smoothly, stretching and gliding over to the closet as if his feet never truly touched the ground. "Grab your coat."

"Where are we going?"

He smiled, and Shizuka shivered. "You'll see."

She could feel his eyes on her as she stood up and donned her coat, carefully buttoning it and smoothing it out. A slight flush bloomed across her cheeks, and she absently ran her fingers through her hair and touched up her lip gloss. When she was finally ready to go, the white-haired boy looked amused, if a little impatient.

They swept out the door, and all politeness seemed to be forgotten as Bakura strode down the streets, his gaze intent and his stride confident, trench coat flapping in the breeze. His casual deference seemed to ooze off of him, replaced by an almost unnatural menace that made Shizuka wish she hadn't left her schoolbag – and the blade hidden within – in his apartment. However, he kept the passersby at bay, and for that Shizuka was grateful. She had had enough problems walking home alone in broad daylight; she shuddered to think what would happen to her at this hour had she been alone.

"Where are we going?" she asked again, but he ignored her, turning down an alley. Chewing her lower lip, she followed hesitantly, her eyes darting about fervently. Shadows seemed to take on a life of their own, grotesque creatures of darkness reaching for her. Her imagination soon overwhelmed her, and she quickened her pace until she could grasp Bakura's arm.

He glanced at her. "Do you remember much of Battle City?" he asked abruptly.

Shizuka blinked, taken completely by surprise. "What do you mean?" she asked carefully.

"The duels." He stared straight into her amber eyes, his gaze hard and intent. "Do you remember the monsters? Did they frighten you?"

Shizuka forced herself to laugh. "Monsters don't exist," she said softly. And to think, he was supposed to be the grown up here. She had gotten over her childish fears of the monster under the bed when before she had hit middle school, and though the special effects during Battle City had been impressive, she had known all along that they weren't real. "Why would they frighten me?"

A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "Never mind," he said softly. "We're here."

They stopped in front of a rather non-descript door, lacking any handles or knobs of any sort. She felt puzzled until she saw a soft glow envelop him, a sickly blue glow emanating from somewhere beneath his shirt. The door swung open with an audible click, and the blue glow spread outwards to light their way.

It's just some sort of flashlight, she told herself. A vision of the spellbook from his apartment flashed through her mind, and she shook her head wildly. Don't be silly, there's no such thing as magic. Besides, this is Bakura-san.

She had nothing to worry about, right?

Then why did she feel as if someone were laughing at her?

Feeling only slightly emboldened by her internal pep talk, she followed the boy through the doorway, wincing as she heard the door slam shut. The light flickered off of the stone walls, and she got the distinct feeling that very few tread this path. The floor was worn, but dusty, and cobwebs clung in the corners. Odd artwork lay scattered along the walls, pinned up chaotically and yellowed with age. The brittle canvases were adorned with creatures beyond her wildest imaginations, drawn in a dark ink that looked disturbingly like blood; after examining the first few, she kept her eyes focused on Bakura's back, her limbs trembling.

The hallway – if that was what it was – had an old feel to it, decadent and sacrosanct. Every step she took had to be forced, and it was as if a thousand eyes followed her every move. Her shoulders hunched, and she got the distinct impression that she was not wanted here, that her innocence was shunned and despised by those who walked this pathway. Something brushed against her shoulder, soft and wet, and she shuddered, suddenly feeling filthy, tainted.

"Where are we?" she breathed, her voice wavering.

"Somewhere very old." Bakura's voice seemed to have changed. He sounded as if there were a joke that only he knew, and that she would never hear the punch line. "This passage hasn't been used extensively in perhaps a few thousand years or so. Few are aware of its existence, and fewer still dare to enter. Great creatures once convened here, monsters very like those you see in those duels."

He stopped suddenly, spinning around and grabbing her shoulders hard enough to bruise. A golden pendant seemed to ooze right through his shirt, giving off the sickly blue glow that pervaded the passage. Its spines chimed as they struck together, the light growing in intensity. She was reminded of his duel with mou hitori no Yuugi-san, and the shock and fear everyone had expressed at the appearance of that gaudy piece of jewelry.

"Are you afraid of the dark?" he asked, a twisted grin on his face. His eyes seemed to glow with the unearthly luminescence of his pendant, lending him a demonic look that froze her blood.

"N-n-no," she stammered, her eyes wide.

He barked a laugh. "You should be." His hand slid down her arm, leaving little trails of gooseflesh in their wake, until he entwined his slender fingers with hers. "Come. You have yet to see My project."

He tugged her along the passage, laughing excitedly, his thumb dipping to caress the pulse racing in her wrist. Her mouth felt dry, and it was all she could do to stumble along behind him, though at the speed he was going it was more like she was being half dragged. The light from the pendant began to dim, and once again something brushed against her shoulder, caressing her, trying to cling to her and leaving her skin feeling slimy.

This time, she couldn't stop the shriek that tore from her throat.

Bakura only laughed louder and pulled her along, glancing over his shoulder at her every so often. He no longer looked like the Bakura-san she knew. The shy, sweet, quiet boy had been replaced by an absolute monster, and Shizuka wished she had listened to her instincts and never gone to his apartment.

It's too late now! a little voice giggled in her mind. Too late, too late, too late! The little kit is in over her head! Oh, whatever is she to do now!

She bit her lip to stifle a whimper.

The passageway opened up so abruptly that it took Shizuka a few moments to realize that the walls were no longer pressing in on her so tightly. They emerged into a vast chamber littered with queer rock formations and metal contraptions. In the center of the room was a wide table. She couldn't quite make out what lay on the table, but when it began to quiver, she was glad for the darkness cloaking most of the room.

"This doesn't look like an art project," she said quietly, her voice nearly a whisper.

"Oh, but it is," he purred, tugging her to him and giggling. "It's My special project, and you're just what I needed to complete it." He dipped his head and kissed her fiercely, briefly, before pulling away and throwing her to the ground. "Now stay still, this shouldn't hurt."

Understandably, Shizuka did not listen. She stood up quickly and dashed towards the passageway, but she wasn't quick enough. He slid in front of her, arms held wide, and shook his head.

"Ah ah ah!" he said chidingly. "Be a good girl and sit still for Me, and I'll make sure I show your brother what a pretty doll you make, Shizuka-chan." His pendant glowed again, this time a vibrant red nearly the color of her hair, and she was thrown to the ground, pinned down by invisible bonds.

She stared up at the ceiling in despair, writhing desperately, crying out in fear. Wisps of white flew about the room, chattering incessantly in a language she did not understand. A few of them slipped low enough to brush across her skin, leaving her cold and shivering, and she could feel their hatred, their disgust, their abhorrence for her. She did not know what they were, but for a few brief moments, she was more afraid of them than she was of Bakura.

That did not last, however, as the first pangs of pain stripped through her. She arched her back and screamed until her throat was raw, feeling as if someone were tearing her skin off and plucking her bones out one by one. She closed her eyes and stopped screaming only long enough to take another breath. She did not know how long it lasted – seconds, minutes, hours; time seemed to have stopped for her – before she felt an awful tear.

She blinked her eyes, staring around at the little pieces of half-formed buildings curiously. Where was she? She tried to stretch her hand towards the buildings, to touch them and confirm their reality, but found that she could move nothing but her eyes. She blinked again and glanced upward, and her breath caught in her throat.

Bakura was staring down at her from a height that boggled her mind. He was grinning like a maniac and holding something up in his arms, a cascade of red hair falling across a portion of his hand. He shifted his hold, and she screamed again, suddenly knowing where she was.

He was holding a body.

He was holding her body.

"Such a pretty little doll…"