Lightning-Dono: See? It's getting...a little bit happier all ready. :) Now, a switch back to the ever so sensitive Malik and Rishid, along with a little bit of Yuugi and Co.

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The dirty blonde teen gave an insolent whistle at the flashing box that had taken off his favorite show and was airing a cartoon that looked like it was from centuries ago, it was so passe. The art was plain and a majority of the detail was traced with dark brown lining, and horribly colored. It was the most terrible thing Malik had ever seen, next to that one time when he flipped on the TV and right smack in the middle of the screen was Hillary Duff. Swaying back and forth, a microphone slapped in her hands as she sang at the top of her lungs with so much energy he wouldn't be at all surprised if her vocal cords sprung out.

"I told you we should've played cards," Malik said accusingly, jabbing a finger in his brother's direction. Rishid opened one eye to survey Malik silently. After the brief moment of inspection, he shut the lid and continued to buzz. "And now there's a stupid show on and there's nothing you can do about it."

Rishid snorted, flaring his cape with one arm to create a wavy motion that was supposed to flaunt his superiority over Malik. "You know I loathe playing cards with you. You bet everything. I lost my best pair of dress pants because of some random bet that you just decided to make while we were playing!"

Malik winked winsomely. "I promise that I won't make any ridiculous wagers while we play."

"When I'm done meditating."

"You've been meditating for half the day!" Malik sulked, crossing his arms defiantly and showing an incomparable sense of malevolence. "Can't you just stop?"

"You know this is a way to communicate with the gods, don't you?"

Malik grew sick of these useless lectures that no sooner led him into the future than it did to the gods.

"Give it a rest!" Malik reached into the depths of his immense pocket, drew a deck of playing cards from it, and thrust it ruthlessly to the ground. "These gods that we have been referring to for our entire lifetimes aren't in the world of the living! You can't interact with dead, supernatural, or any things of the sort!"

This pricked a nerve. Rishid's eyes shot open to reveal flaming eyes that threatened to burn holes through his younger brother's skin.

"Have you any idea how long our people have worshipped these people?" He questioned dangerously, no longer caring how awfully foolish he looked as his foot hooked on his cape and he stumbled forward a few steps. A few steps closer to the mutinous figure that sat just feet away.

The teenager got to his feet, boasting the powerful leg muscles he had gained with his years of jumping around in dramatic poses during duels.

"You know what? I thought we were to become normal people. People who didn't have to believe in theocracy and to live with themselves as leaders. We didn't need a pharaoh! Theocracy means that we believe our leaders are gods, and our pharaoh was Egypt's past leader! Well..." He paused, studying the look on his brother's face, contorted with pure fury. "we don't need gods, then!" Malik stormed from the room, crossing the hardwood floor, pushing open the door and slamming it behind him.

Rishid stood, dumbfounded by his brother's suddenly rude behavior towards the beliefs that he had been taught since the very beginning of his life. He still carried the prophecies burnt into his back with a hot poker rod, scouring his back like a dooming stick that brought nothing but pain and suffering. For half of his life he had been condemned to a servile attitude through the wishes of his father, who had been killed at the hands of his own celebrated son. Since then, he had grown-power hungry, looking down on his brother and sister like they were his menial servants. Rishid would end up looking terribly haggard due to the stress of trying to prevent his brother's Yami from gaining further power. But despite his efforts, he was belittled by every possible person, holding his bad reputation from working for Malik against him.

"You don't know what you're doing!" Rishid grumbled angrily, instinctively knowing that it was useless to reason with his brother. And even if he did find a way to bring Malik back to his senses, he had not a clue where his brother had gone. Except for the discordant sound of rusty metal trash can lids banging together like broken cymbals outside of the window. Rishid had once told Malik that the best way to relieve himself of anger was to make a racket by hitting things together. Peering out through the dusty curtains, he saw Malik holding two trash can lids in both hands, crashing them together like a child playing with toy cars. Despite his current predicament, Rishid found himself wondering about the durability of the two objects his brother had put into battle.

- - - - -

He grasped the rubbery handles, pouring all his strength into his pumping legs voraciously, faster and faster up the tremendous hill. The wind whistled in his ears, his colorful hair pressed down by a helmet. Alongside him rode his companions, each with bicycles in an array of colors ranging from a dull pink to a sparkling cerulean.

Yuugi and his friends had decided to go on a bike ride to see Espa Roba, a boy that could use psychic powers to predict and see beyond the normal eyes.

"I don't get it," Honda grunted, his long legs moving up and down to power the chains, which triggered the movement of the wheels. He had to work extra hard on steep hills such as this because although his legs were lengthy, their strength was minimal. Honda's power was mainly in his arms, which generally didn't have much use while biking. "What's point of visiting Espa Roba? All he does is duel and baby-sit a few little brothers that are all practically identical!"

Yuugi got off his bike and walked it up the hill. "We're going to see what Isis and Seto are going to do by asking him."

"And you'd know," Anzu added, "If you hadn't been daydreaming about milkshakes the whole time."

The shark-fin haired boy cast Anzu a spiteful look. "Hey, I have to eat, too. I had a lunch this small." He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger the size of a penny. "That's less than what I had for a midnight snack the other day!"

Jounouchi wheeled his bike up easily, let go of the breaks, and flew down, screaming, "MAYBE IT WAS BECAUSE YOU ATE ALL OF YOUR FOOD FOR A MIDNIGHT SNACK!"

Honda seemed mortified at the very thought as he screeched to a stop next to Jounouchi, unfastening his helmet. "You know what? I think you're saying I'm fat."

The blonde stared avidly at his friend, someone that could never be fat even if he ate the whole universe in one bite. "You know what?" He mocked, "I think you've got it backwards. In reality you're too skinny."

"Well, you don't look the normal weight yourself, wise guy," Honda retorted, docking his bike by the wall and locking the wheels in place. His hands moved swiftly as he withdrew a shining key from his pocket and stuck it eagerly into his lock. "Let's get this over with." Yuugi nodded and led the small party up onto Espa Roba's front step.

Espa Roba lived in a lonely, trashed up neighborhood. It wasn't the most scenic place in the world unless your definition of 'scenic' was a cement road with town homes strewn along the edge. A loose newspaper page tumbled through the air, catching a gust of wind blowing south as though to a better place. A pot of wilted plants lay the edge of Espa's doorstep, overturned. Yuugi reached out and rang the doorbell twice.

"Ah, Yuugi!" Came a friendly voice as a teenager with pale sea green hair thrust open the door as though Yuugi and he had been friends since they were in preschool. He looked around to greet the familiar faces he hadn't seen since Battle City. "It's great to see you all again. Come on in!"

Espa's house smelled faintly of incense and a growing scent of rosemary that choked Anzu, clogging her senses and making it hard for her to breathe. A headache developed and she sighed. Anzu had never appreciated such an aroma.

"I forgot to warn you that I'm commemorating the first anniversary of my mother's death today. It's the Buddhist way to have an altar in memory of the person, which I am quite sure you all are familiar with." Espa indicated the white altar, patterns of flowers and vines with Duel Monsters within them engraved into the white stone. A picture of a woman was framed with a gold rectangular case with a clear top. Infront of her were cups with small, delicate legs that curled out, allowing it to stand. In it was sand and sticks of incense, slightly burnt at the tops. Espa's brothers were kneeling humbly infront of it, clasping sticks on incense between their hands in prayer, and bowing respectfully to their mother. The gang didn't know what to say. When confronted with such a comment, it was hard to say anything back. Only to stare at the scene before you, wondering what else was in store.

"I'm sorry," Honda uttered eventually as they found themselves kneeling before the altar and bowing themselves. Espa did the same.

"She was a wonderful woman. Taught me the art of life, living it to the fullest and enjoying the simple things." The teen have a small sniff, not wanting to take in too much of the stimulating scent. Anzu's headache grew worse as her lungs craved for fresh air, her legs yearning to stretch and move about. Her intention in high school had been to pass and go to a dance school in America, not to kneel on an uncomfortable maroon rug in someone's living room and praying to someone she didn't know.

Espa got up, switched on the TV for his brothers, and led the group into the kitchen where the smell of pork was more intense than the rosemary. Pulling some chairs back for them, he got to the counter and began chopping green onions as though they weren't there.

"These are to be offerings," Espa explained, cutting them rapidly and tossing the unneeded parts into a silvery sink. "For my mom, you see. She-,"

"Uh, excuse me," Jounouchi interrupted, ending the solemn moment the gang was having as they sat at the table, their hands in their laps and staring at some invisible being beneath the surface. "But we didn't come here to...er...listen to stories about your mother." Espa looked offended by the very idea. "I mean, well, we came here for other reasons. We're all really sorry about your mother's passing-," Jounouchi paused for the group to nod in unison. "-but that's not what we came here for."

Espa's voice grew considerably colder. "Then what did you come here for?" At the speed he was chopping, Espa was bound to accidentally cut off one of his fingers soon.

"We came here to ask you what Seto and Isis are planning to do," Yuugi piped, sitting up readily in his seat. "I mean, Mokuba just passed away so I want to know what they're planning. Seto was attached to his brother so much I'm afraid he might do something... stupid."

The boy finished off the onions and moved onto hurling them into a pan. "I can do that. But why Isis?"

"She's with Seto."

Espa dipped his finger into a steaming pot of stew that had been laid out to cool. He stuck it into his mouth and sucked it thoughtfully. "That's quite interesting. I'll help you in a bit." He laid out five bowls and ladled the beefy stew into each bowl, it's rich, thick sauce poured at excessive amounts. Once each bowl was filled, Espa hurried one to the altar, rushed back in, and invited his guests for a late lunch.

"So, you want me to look into their minds?" Espa inquired, sitting opposite from the group at the long, benched table.

Jounouchi took a moment to drool over his stew like a rabid dog before diving into it, spoonful after spoonful, until it was drained. "Yes," he replied thickly, his mouth full of the warm goulash.

"All right." Espa left the room for about ten minutes before returning with a fairly proud expression on his face. They couldn't tell whether it was clouded with fright, sadness, or just shimmering with blatant happiness. Altogether, he looked as though he had recently exercised skills he hadn't used in years, which was probably the case. "You have nothing to worry about."

The group hesitated to take this in. "Why not?" They asked together, their voices chorusing through the kitchen.

"Because one is planning on getting married to the other and the other loves the one who wants to get married to them."

Jounouchi toppled off of his chair.

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Yes, I amBuddhist, so I know the way the religion works. :)