Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.
A/N: Sorry about the somewhat longer update, my computer um...died and I had to wait awhile, that and I had a wheelbarrow full of homework. Thanks so much for all your encouraging reviews, they're really helpful. Guess people want me to continue, so the next chapter's up. Oh, and sorry for the traces of humour in this chappy, it's not really intended, just happened is all.
Entry 4
Completely bald.
One rusting silver hoop clinging onto the upper left pinna and four cloudy studs descending down the curve. Red, black and red again. Dangling from the lobe, a miniature white skull holding a petite yet rather grotesque grin outlined, almost, dripping in crimson red. Encasing each earring, a crusty, blackened, raw-red infection, oozing yellow puss. Right ear – one golden hoop.
And that was it.
Thick, dark, bushy eyebrows adorned with navy blue piercing accenting narrow, darting hazel eyes. Angry eyes. Angry, vengeful eyes.
A cross of two scars imprinted on the right cheek. The longer beginning from the ear and stretching almost completely to the side of the lip. The shorter, approximately half its length. Midpoint, somewhere near the upper cheekbone. Both were sealed in semi-dried blood.
Still, one small droplet manages to escape.
Lips, almost identical yet not quite in such severe condition. Surrounding the faded, dry pair, a thin forest of dark stubble. Brown. Or black. A combination of a moustache and a beard but not quite one or the other. Not a goatee either.
Not exactly 'porcelain' skin.
Right hairy arm was clothed in green and blue skin. Wait, not quite. Complex tattooed designs intertwining one another, sliding down the length. A vulture, cougar, dragon and......angel? Swirling miscellaneous shapes and patterns dancing around each figure. The rest was unidentifiable. Left bicep stamped a crucifix with a coiling serpent wrapping its body around the cross. Descending the arm, bronze, sand-blasted skin right down to the fingertips.
Exactly four rings hugging each digit of each hand. All solid, metallic steel. Hard as a rock, or ten rocks. Following a pattern beginning from index and moving down – spikes, smooth, studs and engraved. Nothing quite special about them aside the assumption of what they may be used for. Purple-green bruises lining the knuckles confirm this assumption.
So tight.
Perhaps a few sizes too small. Through skin-tight fabric of sea-green, a distinct set of six packs line the lower trunk. Heavy, thick-set shoulders support a broad chest which was in the same state as the abdomen. Each hole dotting the shirt carry the name bran "fcuk" in bold letters across the chest revealed the same tanned skin. Pieces of dangling fabric hang raggedly from where sleeves used to be.
Brown? Blue? Black perhaps. Can't tell. Just........faded and unwashed jeans. Noticeable mud, grass, blood and vomit stains. And of course, a few inconspicuous holes on the knees and such. A bump showing itself somewhere near the front pocket. Must be a wallet.
At least it better be a wallet.
He keeps staring at me.
That angry look on his face makes me nervous. It seems as if he wants to jump me any second now and attack me with some weapon he's hiding in his shoes or pants or something. Luckily, for me, his right wrist is handcuffed to the armrest of his chair so he can't move anywhere. Maybe it's because I keep staring at him. I tried not to, really, I did but he looks so, so.....freaky that I just can't help it. It's one of those situations in which a person looks so daunting that one can't help but keep his eyes pasted on that person.
At least this is something to keep my mind off of the reason why I'm here. I feel like a criminal, much like that guy over there, and I don't even know why. Was it so wrong to try and escape from a place that made me feel horrible, a place that broke me up inside? How about the fact that I only wanted to protect my self? What happened to those child protection laws they keep broadcasting on T.V.?
To be honest, I dreaded being out there in the freezing, wet streets starving and feeling miserable. Dreaded it. Sure, I was free and all, but that was it. The scales are so unbalanced. Back at Andersen's, I had all my essentials but was treated like a dog, more accurately, a slave. Dogs lived in better conditions. Out in that alleyway, I was my own person, with opinions and decisions of my own, yet I barely struggled to live through each day. Perhaps now, anywhere is better, anywhere.
Just not a police station.
The foreboding atmosphere in here is unnerving. Staring and wandering eyes line my path everywhere I look and a continuous string of criminals are dragged in forcefully and shoved into questioning rooms. Some come in willingly and calmly but they're stilled cuffed and led by an officer. Others have to be restrained by three or four men and still, they don't comply. One man actually managed to free himself from their grasp and run out the door. Unfortunately, for him, one of the cops caught him at the door. Then, two men held him against the wall, forcing him not to struggle. When they couldn't hold him any longer, they shot him with a rubber bullet.
They actually shot him.
I don't believe it. Just because it was a rubber bullet, doesn't mean that it couldn't hurt anyone. How would these people know if it could kill or not. Had they actually tried on themselves? Obviously not. I saw that agonized look on his face. The way it twisted and contorted under the pain and stress from his wound. He still bled blood. He still fell to the ground. He still cried out in pain. How could they not have noticed, or if they did, cared? Well, it didn't look like it bothered them to much to do it. After that, a couple of cops dragged him into one of the rooms again. They left a big blood stain in the hallway.
There are other people aside from that man waiting with their wrists cuffed to chairs out here as well. They saw the guy getting shot too, but it's weird, their expressions were entirely neutral. It was as if they had no emotions at all, or if they did, hid them very well. Maybe they've seen this before, or maybe, they just.....don't care anymore like they've died inside or something. Soulless beings sitting here waiting for their sad fate.
If there are soulless beings out there.
I know how I got here. Well, it would be strange if I didn't. Word is, some old lady kept on noticing me out in that alley and thought I was dealing drugs or picking fights with pedestrians or something. So, in the goodness of her heart and her strong will to keep the streets safe from all potential threats, phoned the police on me.
The cop, Nielsen was his name, could tell right off the bat I wasn't a dealer (but an 85-year-old woman can't) yet he took me in anyways. It wasn't exactly a bad thing, but it's not like anyone would willingly go to a police station like this. It was probably my eyes. I don't really look like the type to be picking fights and selling marijuana. He asked me a few questions and I ended up telling him briefly about why I was homeless, and after frisking me (yes he actually frisked me) he brought me into his car and we headed here. He seemed like a nice person. Down to earth and friendly. I actually began to relax a little and even started to like him. He told me there was nothing to worry about and that he'd give me something to eat once we arrived. He appeared kind enough. But the key word here is 'appeared.' He was welcoming until......
He took my stuff.
No, he didn't take everything. I was able to hold onto my journal and bag but he took the worst thing of all. My treasure, well, at least that's the name I've established for it until I find out what it's really called. That was the last thing I ever wanted to be parted from. To think I never really gave much thought to anyone actually taking it from me until it was too late was surprising. I was stunned. So stunned in fact that I almost cried. One minute it was in my hand, the next, it wasn't. How can that be? I was holding onto it, had it right here, right here and then....So even now, I'm upset about it.
How did it happen? Well, when we arrived, he led me to this waiting room where some of the criminals were sitting. He offered me some soup and I gulped it down thankfully, smiling as I did so. After the meal, he asked me some questions about where I came from, who my parents were and other related things. I slowly told him what I could (which was not much because I couldn't risk relating my past to others especially a cop) and watched him nod along, understanding what I said. While I was speaking, his eyes caught my bag and he asked to see it. I reluctantly handed it over, thinking there was no real harm in doing so.
But I have a knack for being wrong. Never assume.
As soon as he saw the golden case, his eyes snapped wide open and he pulled the case out, dropping the bag on my lap. With furrowed eyebrows, he held it close to his face, examining it inside and out. I just sat there, nervously fiddling with my fingers, anxious for him to hand it back. Waiting. Waiting. But no, he just kept on looking around at it, turning it to each side and, taking in every little aspect. He hmmed to himself a couple of times too. The longer he held it, the more concerned his expression looked. The more concerned his expression looked, the stronger my anxiety grew. It was like a chain link. Just what was he doing anyways? Did he think I was hiding something?
He eventually lowered it from his gaze and turned to me. His expression looked pretty grim and that did not ease my situation one bit. There was something about that look that gave me a very uneasy feeling. I couldn't put my finger on what it was but it felt...bad.
He slowly knelt down in front of me; eyes fixed on mine and held the case in front of me. His tone was low and serious; the type a father would use to rebuke his child.
"Son, tell me, where did you get this?"
How did I know he was going to ask that? The hard part is; how to answer. I think in this situation anything but the truth would be best. He just won't believe it. The fact that this came 'mysteriously' in the mail would not do.
"My, my mom gave it to me a long time ago."
"Oh really, son?"
"Y-yes sir."
"And how long ago was this?"
"A...um....a couple of years now, sir."
"Where is your mother now?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I just...don't."
"Hmm, alright then."
That final comment sounded sort of strange. Heaving a heavy sigh, he stood up, still holding onto the case in his hand. He quickly told me he had to go check with his partner about something and that he would come back in a short while. As I watched him disappear into the back room, a sudden feeling of dread fell on me. I started to doubt that I would get it back or even see it again. This was even worst than that anxiety. It was just plain nerve wracking. Maybe he had something to do with it. He did seem somewhat...suspicious, but then again, he's a cop.
So now, I'm just sitting here, waiting for that door to open. The clock on the wall read 5:00, he's been gone for about two hours now. All this worrying is burning up the insides of my stomach. I would have hopped out of my chair and started pacing the back and forth but those people cuffed to the chairs are staring at me and I don't want to draw anymore attention.
Sure is quiet in this room.
Tick, tock, tick, tock
Sounds of computers humming.
Tick tock tick tock
Coughing.
Quiet murmuring.
Tick, tock, tick, tock
Photocopying machine.
I've always been a patient person, but two hours in a room alone with criminals as my only company is too much. I don't care who sees me anymore, they're stuck to their chairs anyways. So what if they stare. Let them stare. Let them stare at each other. I have to get my treasure back.
So, I got out of my chair, and made my way across the room, down the hallway and towards the back. I could feel every eye upon me, boring into my skull with their eyes. Burning glares directed at me. Heads turning in unison to my moves. But I didn't care, not exactly 'care' really, just 'acknowledge.'
I pressed my ear lightly to the door, carefully leaning against it and not making any sound. I've become quite good at this actually, so it wasn't a big problem for me. From within, husky voices could be heard conversing with each other.
"Um hum."
"So what do you think?"
"You might be right, by the looks of it."
"I'm not sure about it though."
"It would have been pawned for money."
"So this must mean – "
"Yeah, definitely."
"So we have a little thief on our hands."
"He does a good 'homeless' act, can tell ya that."
"You can't predict what they'll do these days."
"But where from?"
"Eh........by the looks of it, a museum."
"Should we check up on this to make sure?"
"No need, it's too obvious."
"What should we do? He's just a kid."
"Stealing something of this value can't be taken lightly, it's not just shoplifting."
"We'll deal with him like all the crooks that come in here then."
"Good, but do it quickly."
End Entry
+++++++++++
A/N: Technically, there weren't any swear words in this chapter so the rating's the same.
Replies:
~yla/all4him~ Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like the story. It's too bad that you won't get to figure out who the hikari is any time soon though but you can still keep guessing if you like. I love your new s/n name, it's awesome! All4him, hmm are you a Christian? Your profile said you wanted to be a youth leader so I was guessing you are. It's not easy to find a fellow Christian (if that's indeed what you are) on ff.net so I'm glad to see someone. Sometimes a person can tell by what people write, otherwise, no clue. Anyways, thanks again ^_^.
~Yugi and Mai~ Whoa, that is the longest review I've ever gotten and I'm not complaining. So here's a long reply. You guys (um...is it you guys or just you?) were so encouraging and helpful, how can I not continue? I appreciate your honesty and the genuine sincerity in your opinions about the discontinuing thing. Some people just become dissuaded out of continuing something that doesn't seen to be going anywhere and some just keep on going no matter what. I guess it just depends on how keen they are on whatever it is that they're trying to accomplish. My writing is basically a light hobby thing but it's mostly swayed by the public (its kind of an unconscious thing, can't help it) so it follows what people want or what's most interesting at the time. Nothing serious, really. About that comment about the "cruel and heartless fic," I wasn't dissing it, just part of my yami's personality ^_^(). Wow, that was lame, anyways, a topless Yami Yugi you ask? Yup and he's all done up in gold too. He got the big hug and kiss you wanted as did Yami Bakura and with big blushes say thanks. Yugi feels a lot better now, and so does Ryou. One more thing, I was twisting each chapter around to intentionally keep the readers guessing muhahaha.
~Princess Krystal01~ I'm glad you thought it was sad because that's the mood I wanted to set. I noticed the last chapter had a few small instances of humour in it but it was unavoidable (at least for me anyways). I'll try to cut down on the humour, thank you for the review.
~Star Girl11~ Well, that was very honest and.....forceful. Lol, but thanks I like that kind of persuasion. Sometimes you just have to knock people back into their senses when they get dazed out. It's too bad none of your favourite authors are updating, ff.net can sometimes clash with people's outside-anime lives that, I know.
~Dark Magician Girl / Hikaru~ Thanks for the review, it's great that you gave one for every chapter so far. Actually, I don't really drool over guys either, I just put that guy thing in to make it look less like I was complaining. It sort of got boring after awhile so I'm trying to find ways to make it sound more exciting (and failing miserably ^_^()) Anyways, thanks!
~Angel in Disguise8~ Just try to chase me around school. You'll get sick of it sooner or later, I just know it. Yeah, it's nice that you like my writing, but I don't really think it's all that 'mysterious.' The 'millennium....?' Thing was just to bug people a bit as was the 'boy named....' thing. It's nothing big but I just like to do that sometimes. If you're confused of who the hikari person is, don't worry about it, you're not alone. According to who people think that person is, the pattern is: Yugi, Malik/Ryou, Malik, and Yugi. Yup, it's confusing but that just means I know what I'm doing. Anyways, thanks for the review, but you need to update yours too, but I know you're busy (and lazy ^_^, hey those two words sort of rhyme!) so don't worry about it too much.
~inuyasha0001~ Hey, you like Inuyasha too? That's cool. I'm glad you like the fic and as you can see, I didn't discontinue it. Everyone wants to know who the hikari is but since I've been twisting it around quite a bit, its kinda hard to tell. If you want to guess, than be my guest. Anyways, thanks again ^_^.
A/N: Sorry about the somewhat longer update, my computer um...died and I had to wait awhile, that and I had a wheelbarrow full of homework. Thanks so much for all your encouraging reviews, they're really helpful. Guess people want me to continue, so the next chapter's up. Oh, and sorry for the traces of humour in this chappy, it's not really intended, just happened is all.
Entry 4
Completely bald.
One rusting silver hoop clinging onto the upper left pinna and four cloudy studs descending down the curve. Red, black and red again. Dangling from the lobe, a miniature white skull holding a petite yet rather grotesque grin outlined, almost, dripping in crimson red. Encasing each earring, a crusty, blackened, raw-red infection, oozing yellow puss. Right ear – one golden hoop.
And that was it.
Thick, dark, bushy eyebrows adorned with navy blue piercing accenting narrow, darting hazel eyes. Angry eyes. Angry, vengeful eyes.
A cross of two scars imprinted on the right cheek. The longer beginning from the ear and stretching almost completely to the side of the lip. The shorter, approximately half its length. Midpoint, somewhere near the upper cheekbone. Both were sealed in semi-dried blood.
Still, one small droplet manages to escape.
Lips, almost identical yet not quite in such severe condition. Surrounding the faded, dry pair, a thin forest of dark stubble. Brown. Or black. A combination of a moustache and a beard but not quite one or the other. Not a goatee either.
Not exactly 'porcelain' skin.
Right hairy arm was clothed in green and blue skin. Wait, not quite. Complex tattooed designs intertwining one another, sliding down the length. A vulture, cougar, dragon and......angel? Swirling miscellaneous shapes and patterns dancing around each figure. The rest was unidentifiable. Left bicep stamped a crucifix with a coiling serpent wrapping its body around the cross. Descending the arm, bronze, sand-blasted skin right down to the fingertips.
Exactly four rings hugging each digit of each hand. All solid, metallic steel. Hard as a rock, or ten rocks. Following a pattern beginning from index and moving down – spikes, smooth, studs and engraved. Nothing quite special about them aside the assumption of what they may be used for. Purple-green bruises lining the knuckles confirm this assumption.
So tight.
Perhaps a few sizes too small. Through skin-tight fabric of sea-green, a distinct set of six packs line the lower trunk. Heavy, thick-set shoulders support a broad chest which was in the same state as the abdomen. Each hole dotting the shirt carry the name bran "fcuk" in bold letters across the chest revealed the same tanned skin. Pieces of dangling fabric hang raggedly from where sleeves used to be.
Brown? Blue? Black perhaps. Can't tell. Just........faded and unwashed jeans. Noticeable mud, grass, blood and vomit stains. And of course, a few inconspicuous holes on the knees and such. A bump showing itself somewhere near the front pocket. Must be a wallet.
At least it better be a wallet.
He keeps staring at me.
That angry look on his face makes me nervous. It seems as if he wants to jump me any second now and attack me with some weapon he's hiding in his shoes or pants or something. Luckily, for me, his right wrist is handcuffed to the armrest of his chair so he can't move anywhere. Maybe it's because I keep staring at him. I tried not to, really, I did but he looks so, so.....freaky that I just can't help it. It's one of those situations in which a person looks so daunting that one can't help but keep his eyes pasted on that person.
At least this is something to keep my mind off of the reason why I'm here. I feel like a criminal, much like that guy over there, and I don't even know why. Was it so wrong to try and escape from a place that made me feel horrible, a place that broke me up inside? How about the fact that I only wanted to protect my self? What happened to those child protection laws they keep broadcasting on T.V.?
To be honest, I dreaded being out there in the freezing, wet streets starving and feeling miserable. Dreaded it. Sure, I was free and all, but that was it. The scales are so unbalanced. Back at Andersen's, I had all my essentials but was treated like a dog, more accurately, a slave. Dogs lived in better conditions. Out in that alleyway, I was my own person, with opinions and decisions of my own, yet I barely struggled to live through each day. Perhaps now, anywhere is better, anywhere.
Just not a police station.
The foreboding atmosphere in here is unnerving. Staring and wandering eyes line my path everywhere I look and a continuous string of criminals are dragged in forcefully and shoved into questioning rooms. Some come in willingly and calmly but they're stilled cuffed and led by an officer. Others have to be restrained by three or four men and still, they don't comply. One man actually managed to free himself from their grasp and run out the door. Unfortunately, for him, one of the cops caught him at the door. Then, two men held him against the wall, forcing him not to struggle. When they couldn't hold him any longer, they shot him with a rubber bullet.
They actually shot him.
I don't believe it. Just because it was a rubber bullet, doesn't mean that it couldn't hurt anyone. How would these people know if it could kill or not. Had they actually tried on themselves? Obviously not. I saw that agonized look on his face. The way it twisted and contorted under the pain and stress from his wound. He still bled blood. He still fell to the ground. He still cried out in pain. How could they not have noticed, or if they did, cared? Well, it didn't look like it bothered them to much to do it. After that, a couple of cops dragged him into one of the rooms again. They left a big blood stain in the hallway.
There are other people aside from that man waiting with their wrists cuffed to chairs out here as well. They saw the guy getting shot too, but it's weird, their expressions were entirely neutral. It was as if they had no emotions at all, or if they did, hid them very well. Maybe they've seen this before, or maybe, they just.....don't care anymore like they've died inside or something. Soulless beings sitting here waiting for their sad fate.
If there are soulless beings out there.
I know how I got here. Well, it would be strange if I didn't. Word is, some old lady kept on noticing me out in that alley and thought I was dealing drugs or picking fights with pedestrians or something. So, in the goodness of her heart and her strong will to keep the streets safe from all potential threats, phoned the police on me.
The cop, Nielsen was his name, could tell right off the bat I wasn't a dealer (but an 85-year-old woman can't) yet he took me in anyways. It wasn't exactly a bad thing, but it's not like anyone would willingly go to a police station like this. It was probably my eyes. I don't really look like the type to be picking fights and selling marijuana. He asked me a few questions and I ended up telling him briefly about why I was homeless, and after frisking me (yes he actually frisked me) he brought me into his car and we headed here. He seemed like a nice person. Down to earth and friendly. I actually began to relax a little and even started to like him. He told me there was nothing to worry about and that he'd give me something to eat once we arrived. He appeared kind enough. But the key word here is 'appeared.' He was welcoming until......
He took my stuff.
No, he didn't take everything. I was able to hold onto my journal and bag but he took the worst thing of all. My treasure, well, at least that's the name I've established for it until I find out what it's really called. That was the last thing I ever wanted to be parted from. To think I never really gave much thought to anyone actually taking it from me until it was too late was surprising. I was stunned. So stunned in fact that I almost cried. One minute it was in my hand, the next, it wasn't. How can that be? I was holding onto it, had it right here, right here and then....So even now, I'm upset about it.
How did it happen? Well, when we arrived, he led me to this waiting room where some of the criminals were sitting. He offered me some soup and I gulped it down thankfully, smiling as I did so. After the meal, he asked me some questions about where I came from, who my parents were and other related things. I slowly told him what I could (which was not much because I couldn't risk relating my past to others especially a cop) and watched him nod along, understanding what I said. While I was speaking, his eyes caught my bag and he asked to see it. I reluctantly handed it over, thinking there was no real harm in doing so.
But I have a knack for being wrong. Never assume.
As soon as he saw the golden case, his eyes snapped wide open and he pulled the case out, dropping the bag on my lap. With furrowed eyebrows, he held it close to his face, examining it inside and out. I just sat there, nervously fiddling with my fingers, anxious for him to hand it back. Waiting. Waiting. But no, he just kept on looking around at it, turning it to each side and, taking in every little aspect. He hmmed to himself a couple of times too. The longer he held it, the more concerned his expression looked. The more concerned his expression looked, the stronger my anxiety grew. It was like a chain link. Just what was he doing anyways? Did he think I was hiding something?
He eventually lowered it from his gaze and turned to me. His expression looked pretty grim and that did not ease my situation one bit. There was something about that look that gave me a very uneasy feeling. I couldn't put my finger on what it was but it felt...bad.
He slowly knelt down in front of me; eyes fixed on mine and held the case in front of me. His tone was low and serious; the type a father would use to rebuke his child.
"Son, tell me, where did you get this?"
How did I know he was going to ask that? The hard part is; how to answer. I think in this situation anything but the truth would be best. He just won't believe it. The fact that this came 'mysteriously' in the mail would not do.
"My, my mom gave it to me a long time ago."
"Oh really, son?"
"Y-yes sir."
"And how long ago was this?"
"A...um....a couple of years now, sir."
"Where is your mother now?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I just...don't."
"Hmm, alright then."
That final comment sounded sort of strange. Heaving a heavy sigh, he stood up, still holding onto the case in his hand. He quickly told me he had to go check with his partner about something and that he would come back in a short while. As I watched him disappear into the back room, a sudden feeling of dread fell on me. I started to doubt that I would get it back or even see it again. This was even worst than that anxiety. It was just plain nerve wracking. Maybe he had something to do with it. He did seem somewhat...suspicious, but then again, he's a cop.
So now, I'm just sitting here, waiting for that door to open. The clock on the wall read 5:00, he's been gone for about two hours now. All this worrying is burning up the insides of my stomach. I would have hopped out of my chair and started pacing the back and forth but those people cuffed to the chairs are staring at me and I don't want to draw anymore attention.
Sure is quiet in this room.
Tick, tock, tick, tock
Sounds of computers humming.
Tick tock tick tock
Coughing.
Quiet murmuring.
Tick, tock, tick, tock
Photocopying machine.
I've always been a patient person, but two hours in a room alone with criminals as my only company is too much. I don't care who sees me anymore, they're stuck to their chairs anyways. So what if they stare. Let them stare. Let them stare at each other. I have to get my treasure back.
So, I got out of my chair, and made my way across the room, down the hallway and towards the back. I could feel every eye upon me, boring into my skull with their eyes. Burning glares directed at me. Heads turning in unison to my moves. But I didn't care, not exactly 'care' really, just 'acknowledge.'
I pressed my ear lightly to the door, carefully leaning against it and not making any sound. I've become quite good at this actually, so it wasn't a big problem for me. From within, husky voices could be heard conversing with each other.
"Um hum."
"So what do you think?"
"You might be right, by the looks of it."
"I'm not sure about it though."
"It would have been pawned for money."
"So this must mean – "
"Yeah, definitely."
"So we have a little thief on our hands."
"He does a good 'homeless' act, can tell ya that."
"You can't predict what they'll do these days."
"But where from?"
"Eh........by the looks of it, a museum."
"Should we check up on this to make sure?"
"No need, it's too obvious."
"What should we do? He's just a kid."
"Stealing something of this value can't be taken lightly, it's not just shoplifting."
"We'll deal with him like all the crooks that come in here then."
"Good, but do it quickly."
End Entry
+++++++++++
A/N: Technically, there weren't any swear words in this chapter so the rating's the same.
Replies:
~yla/all4him~ Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like the story. It's too bad that you won't get to figure out who the hikari is any time soon though but you can still keep guessing if you like. I love your new s/n name, it's awesome! All4him, hmm are you a Christian? Your profile said you wanted to be a youth leader so I was guessing you are. It's not easy to find a fellow Christian (if that's indeed what you are) on ff.net so I'm glad to see someone. Sometimes a person can tell by what people write, otherwise, no clue. Anyways, thanks again ^_^.
~Yugi and Mai~ Whoa, that is the longest review I've ever gotten and I'm not complaining. So here's a long reply. You guys (um...is it you guys or just you?) were so encouraging and helpful, how can I not continue? I appreciate your honesty and the genuine sincerity in your opinions about the discontinuing thing. Some people just become dissuaded out of continuing something that doesn't seen to be going anywhere and some just keep on going no matter what. I guess it just depends on how keen they are on whatever it is that they're trying to accomplish. My writing is basically a light hobby thing but it's mostly swayed by the public (its kind of an unconscious thing, can't help it) so it follows what people want or what's most interesting at the time. Nothing serious, really. About that comment about the "cruel and heartless fic," I wasn't dissing it, just part of my yami's personality ^_^(). Wow, that was lame, anyways, a topless Yami Yugi you ask? Yup and he's all done up in gold too. He got the big hug and kiss you wanted as did Yami Bakura and with big blushes say thanks. Yugi feels a lot better now, and so does Ryou. One more thing, I was twisting each chapter around to intentionally keep the readers guessing muhahaha.
~Princess Krystal01~ I'm glad you thought it was sad because that's the mood I wanted to set. I noticed the last chapter had a few small instances of humour in it but it was unavoidable (at least for me anyways). I'll try to cut down on the humour, thank you for the review.
~Star Girl11~ Well, that was very honest and.....forceful. Lol, but thanks I like that kind of persuasion. Sometimes you just have to knock people back into their senses when they get dazed out. It's too bad none of your favourite authors are updating, ff.net can sometimes clash with people's outside-anime lives that, I know.
~Dark Magician Girl / Hikaru~ Thanks for the review, it's great that you gave one for every chapter so far. Actually, I don't really drool over guys either, I just put that guy thing in to make it look less like I was complaining. It sort of got boring after awhile so I'm trying to find ways to make it sound more exciting (and failing miserably ^_^()) Anyways, thanks!
~Angel in Disguise8~ Just try to chase me around school. You'll get sick of it sooner or later, I just know it. Yeah, it's nice that you like my writing, but I don't really think it's all that 'mysterious.' The 'millennium....?' Thing was just to bug people a bit as was the 'boy named....' thing. It's nothing big but I just like to do that sometimes. If you're confused of who the hikari person is, don't worry about it, you're not alone. According to who people think that person is, the pattern is: Yugi, Malik/Ryou, Malik, and Yugi. Yup, it's confusing but that just means I know what I'm doing. Anyways, thanks for the review, but you need to update yours too, but I know you're busy (and lazy ^_^, hey those two words sort of rhyme!) so don't worry about it too much.
~inuyasha0001~ Hey, you like Inuyasha too? That's cool. I'm glad you like the fic and as you can see, I didn't discontinue it. Everyone wants to know who the hikari is but since I've been twisting it around quite a bit, its kinda hard to tell. If you want to guess, than be my guest. Anyways, thanks again ^_^.
