Disclaimer: Take a wild guess at what I'm gonna say in about two seconds. Okay, got it? One... Two... I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. So? Did you guess right? I certainly hope so, or you have forced me to question the IQ of my readers, and everyone who's on fanfic usually is an aspiring author of some sort, making them intelligent, so if you force me to question your IQ, that's sad.
I am in a very bad mood, as you can tell from my... harsh... disclaimer. I am a bit disappointed with the numberings they put on the episode downloads at , becauseI thought I was loading Steppin' Out aka The Fiery Dance Battle, because generally YGO 53 means the fifty-third episode, meaning Steppin' Out aka The Fiery Dance Battle. But after twenty minutes of waiting for it to load, it turns out to be audio only for some weird reason, and also the wrong episode. It's actually number 55, where they go and get the duel discs. I HATE that one! Joey/Jounouchi has WAY too many annoying lines in that one, and I mean, at least he's a LITTLE smart in the Japanese, and all that little bit of intelligence goes down the drain in the USA version, and... ARG! And my family just went out to eat at this restaurant... I shared a pepperoni pizza with my little nii-chan... I practically choked on all the grease on that stuff that the restaurant must have imported illegally and called pizza.
Hehe, I was just watching a Japanese raw version of that rooftop Duel with Lumis and Umbra versus Seto and Yami online, and it's actually pretty funny how deep Kaiba's voice is in the Japanese, yet he doesn't have a beard. Heh.
Ick. On with the fic. And yes, my mood is going to have an effect on Atemu's mood and condition, but then again he hasn't exactly been in a good mood through this whole ficcy, now has he? Actually, he's quite a bit of fun to torture. If you're ever in a bad mood, take it out on a convenient three thousand year old pharaoh. It's oddly satisfying, especially if you're feeling evil and sadistic, which is actually not a bad feeling come to think of it. It makes you feel powerful.
BTW, when I wrote the words and music to Weakling of the Night, I wasn't feeling well, had just gotten my unbelievably crappy school picture back, and was just... in an ICK mood. Plus I had Bring Me to Life by Evanessence, which, BTW, I don't own Mr. Lawyer, playing over and over in my little portable CD player thing, so that probably influenced the way I wrote it, too.
"CRIMSON LOVE!"
A huge wave of applause broke out from the crowd as the six band members glomped each other, ecstatic.
"WE DID IT! WOO-HOO!"
"YES!"
Bakura and Atemu hugged, tears running down each of their faces.
"HOLD IT!" Bakura shouted, and pushed Atemu away.
"What?"
"One, you touched the guitar. No. One. Touches. The. Guitar. Two, I. Do. Not. Hug. People. Three, especially in public after we kick another band's butt to oblivion and I actually have a reputation to destroy. And four, you'e sick and I don't particularly feel like catching whatever you've got, Oh Wonderful Pharaoh."
Atemu got him with The Glare. Hard. And added an Atemu-Grunt as a side note. "Hmph. Fine."
"Good." Bakura mock frowned, and then the two burst out laughing. That is, until Isis turned from Mai and hugged Atemu tightly around the waist.
"WE DID IT!" She shouted in his ear. Atemu blushed madly as Bakura looked on, hysterical with laughter. He only stopped when Atemu started to cough from Isis's tight embrace and showed no signs of stopping.
"Um, Isis?"
"Yes?"
"You might want to loosten up just a bit on 'Temu. After all, he IS just a baka pharaoh. Not too much should be expected by way of his 'Survival of Isis-Hug' skills."
"Huh? Oh- Oops. Sorry Atemu."
The shorter of the two choked for air. "That- That's okay," he gasped out. He was extremely pale, and his eyes looked glazed over, Bakura noticed, just as they had earlier.
"Are you all right?" Isis asked quietly, seeing this as well.
"I don't feel well," he breathed, falling back into his seat with his head in his hands. His eyes scrunched shut and his tanned features twisted sharply. "I-I feel sick to my stomach."
"Are you going to puke?" asked Bakura, guarding his guitar.
Atemu didn't answer for a few seconds as his breath came in rattling heaves. A deep choking sound came from within his throat. "Yes."
Isis stayed calm, but her eyes showed evident panic as Atemu clutched his stomach in pain. She took his hand firmly. "Come on," she commanded, voice strong and unwavering. She fled through the crowd with Atemu in tow, towards the back of the hall, until they came to the back door where a plump doorman marred their way.
"I'm sorry miss, but I'm not allowed to let anyone out until- WHOA! Is he-"
"He's Atemu Mutou, yes, and he's going to throw up in mere seconds if you don't let us outside, sir."
"Well..."
But he didn't get to make a decision. Isis grabbed his arm and shoved past him through the door, dragging Atemu out the front hall to the sidewalk outside, and around into a side alley. He fell to his knees and retched, vomit falling in nauseating torrents from his mouth. Isis knelt next to him and held his shoulders until he stopped, giving one final heave and coughing painfully for nearly a minute. He fell limp, palms on the ground for support.
"Are you all right? Are you done?" She carefully lifted his chin to face her and took a tissue packet from her purse. "Here," she said, handing it to the sick teen. "Clean yourself up, and then we can go back inside."
-Inside-
Bakura gasped as Isis fled past him. Mai saw this.
"What happened, 'Kura?"
"Atemu's sick."
Mai looked worried, imagining where Isis must be taking him, suddenly more than understanding the reason for her haste.
"Isis IS brave."
"She was Atemu's High Priestess in a past life, how could she not be?"
"Good point."
"Very good, I know."
Mai rolled her eyes. "You are hopelessly full of it, do you know that?"
Bakura smirked that Bakura-Smirk, the one that reminded her of his slightly insane, sadistic, evil side. She shuddered. "Don't DO that, Bakura!"
He chuckled deep in his throat, succeeding in creeping Mai out even more.
"ARG! You are WEIRD!"
"I know."
"So, what do we do now?"
Rishid and Malik overheard her, and Rishid answered, "We wait for Isis to get back with the pharaoh -er- Atemu, and then we go and get a competition pass from the head judge."
"Oh."
Just then, Isis could be seen walking briskly through the aisle to their seats, Atemu clinging to her for support. His eyes were half-closed, his breathing hoarse, and he was quietly moaning. Bakura and Mai rushed to her, followed by the other boys.
"What happened?" asked Rishid, taking the small figure from Isis.
"Get back to our seats, and try to seem natural," she hissed under her breath. "We're attracting attention." Rishid and Malik nodded, filing back into their row and seating Atemu between them. Bakura silenced any curious looks from the other performers seated near them with one of his famous death glares. Only Atemu's could beat it.
After the entire audience had exited the hall, Crimson Love, Katag and the Katagers, and Hopeless Wanderers, the three winners, walked up to the judges' table to receive their passes for the rest of the competition. The short, stubby head judge walked forward to greet the three bands.
"Congratulations, all of you! Here are your passes for the rest of the competition, and I wish you luck. "Katag and the Katagers?"
Katag and his band of exotic instruments stepped forward and took from the head judge a plastic card with a little picture of a bronze cup on it, their band name hastily scribbled across the front in one of the judges' messy script. A similar card, but with a picture of a silver cup, was handed to the members of Hopeless Wanderers, and the judge handed to Isis one with a gold cup.
"Thank you," she said, bowing slightly to the judge.
"You're very welcome." He smiled. "The competition information is printed on the reverse sides of all your cards. Good luck in the regional round!" He turned and walked up the aisle, out the door of the hall, the three bands following him outside. Rishid and Malik helped Atemu to walk.
"Mai?" Atemu asked weakly.
"Yeah, hun?"
"You know how the plan was for me to walk back through those alleys and sneak back into the house through the side door?"
"Yeah?"
"Um... I c-can't." He shivered, sweat visible on his brow. Rishid tightened his grip on the smaller's arm.
Mai gasped. "What do we do?"
"ATEMU MUTOU!"
The entire gang whirled around as one to see an enraged Sogoroku Mutou rushing towards them. Atemu swore under his breath in colorful choice words of his native ancient Egyptian tongue. Isis, Rishid, Malik and Bakura, all of which understood him, tensed. Mai figured out that he was in deep trouble by the tone of his voice.
"ATEMU MUTOU, DID YOU THINK THAT YOU COULD HIDE YOUR ABSENCE FROM ME BY USING SHADOW MAGIC?"
"Uh... that was the plan." he hung his head, cheeks burning. Suddenly, he took in a sharp breath. "Oh no."
"WHAT?"
"Isis, remember what happened earlier?"
The ancient High Priestess gasped and wrenched her Pharaoh from her brothers' grasp, dragging him back into the alleyway they had been in not twenty minutes ago as he promptly began to retch painfully on the ground. The rest of the gang rushed into the alley, Atemu continuing to vomit until his stomach felt it would throw up his insides if he kept puking like the was.
"YOUNG MAN, LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO YOURSELF!"
Atemu coughed weakly, fighting to keep his arms from buckling underneath him where he knelt on the ground. A strong arm caught him just as his elbows gave way, and he looked up into Isis's concerned features. "I owe you, Isis."
"No, you don't." She gently pulled him up and turned him so he could face his grandfather.
"I-I'm sorry, Jii-chan." He coughed, chest rising and falling quickly.
Instead of reprimanding him as Atemu was expecting, Sogoroku held out a hand for Atemu to lean on. "I felt the shadow magic and pressured Yugi about it once he got back from the concert. Let's go home; I can always yell at you later. Right now you need to rest and get well." He smiled kindly. "But first, are you sure that you don't need to... stay outside a bit longer?"
Atemu shook his head.
"All right then. The car's this way."
"Bye guys," Atemu whispered hoarsely.
"Bye 'Temu. Can we call you later?"
Sogoroku answered for Atemu. "You can, but judging by the looks of him, he'll be asleep," he said, chuckling as Atemu moaned in protest to this. But already the boy's eyes were drooping, and he clung desperately to his grandfather's hand for support in walking.
Atemu's condition was the least of the band's worries, as they were soon to discover.
Electric Fire, you really don't wanna hear it. I had Evanessence on the brain... and rap... and jazz from band class earlier... and I was listening to Evanessence and some of my Japanese music was playing on the compy... I love that stuff. But if y'all REALLY wanna commit songside and hear it... I'll sing it at the next auditions. BTW, talking aboutECT reminded me of Kevin. He's on here now, by the name of Psycho Psykid. The only problem is I've tried all forms of that on the search thing and according to that he doesn't exist, which really bites. But his first story will probably be YGO, so I'll just keep looking through the YGOs every day until some form of Psycho Psykid shows up. I doubt he spelled it right though; he's a horrible speller. Whatever.