Ave Maria
Someone finds salvation
In everyone
Another only pain
Someone tries to hide himself
Down inside himself he prays
Someone swears his true love
Until the end of time
Another runs away
Separate or united
Healthy or insane
"…At least we get out of school for those fuckin' brats."
Yugi rolled his eyes. " You don't know if they are brats or not.""Of course. But they're thirteen. If they were anything like me, they will be a nightmare." Jonouchi laughed, munching on the salt peanuts the airliner had provided them with.
"The game will teach them manners. It worked for you."
"God. You sound like Atem. You sure he wasn't just some sprit?"
Yugi smiled, leaning back into the chair. "I'm sure. His attitude wore off on me a bit, I think."
His eyes fluttered open and he sat up in his bed, throwing the covers off him. He brought his hand to his face and felt the wetness of tears. Sighing, he stood up and walked to the bathroom, pulling a rag off the rack, and wetted it. He ran it along his face and body, wiping off the sweat, and he returned back to his bed.
Ever since Yugi's funeral, he had been having dreams about his friend. Most of them had been conversations without any real meaning but they still had the power to make him cry and miss his friend dearly. Even when they weren't dueling, which was often the basis of their friendship, Yugi had the ability to calm him and make him feel at peace with himself. He had not always been the best person but when he spent time with Yugi, he could forget about it. He was able to change into someone he was proud of.
Tonight was the first night that the dream was of something he didn't remember. Doubts filled his mind over if it had really happened but it was plausible enough for him to believe it was. He hoped that this was a sign that his memories were returning. A lot of questions needed to be answered that he didn't want to ask.
He turned over, and tried to fall back to sleep.
'''''''''' '''''''''' '''''''''' '''''''''' ''''''''''
The morning air was cool and Kaiba pulled the trench coat tighter around him to keep him warm as he padded through the dewy grass. Sun was just beginning to peek out from behind the trees and he reached his destination.
He kneeled down by the grave and set the bouquet of peonies against it. The fresh dirt dirtied his knees as he removed the dying flowers from around the grave and he stood up, throwing them into the plastic bag he had brought for that sole purpose.
"I didn't take you for someone who liked to wander graveyards."
He turned around to see Isis standing at the end of the row of graves, and he walked towards her.
"I didn't want anyone to see me talking to you," he explained.
The Egyptian sighed, taking a seat on one of the paws of the lion statue. Kaiba didn't have the heart to tell her that she was sitting on Gozaburo's grave marker partly because her doing that was like defiling its beauty.
"You haven't changed at all, Kaiba-san," she spoke, her voice soft but strong.
"And you have?" he responded, noticing her white flowing robes and heavy gold jewelry.
She didn't respond to his taunt. "Why did you ask me to come here?"
"Why do things happen? Is fate involved or is just chance that certain things occur?"
"I thought you didn't believe in fate. That you make your own destiny."
Kaiba smirked and took a seat next to her on the statue. "I still do."
"Then why…" it dawned her why he was asking. " You're looking for a reason to why Yugi had to die."
That wasn't completely true. Kaiba didn't need a reason as much as he needed validation that he was right. Shizuka's speech had gotten to him. He knew there could not be a God. Why would someone who was declared to be merciful kill someone so pure as Yugi?
But Kaiba wasn't a fool. No matter how often he denied the magical instances around him when he was with Yugi and pretended that Yugi's other half was nothing more than another personality of Yugi from some repressed childhood trauma, he knew deep down they weren't made up. What thing other than a higher power could be given the ability to defy all laws of nature?
"Just tell me if our destinies are predetermined or are they decided?"
"When you dueled me, you discovered that answer. There is an indefinite number of futures we can have. It is the decisions that we make that determine the future. Ultimately, we have a destiny we have to fulfill. It is the choices we make that decides if we do it or not."
Kaiba thought about that and tried to apply it into his life. What if he hadn't challenged Gozaburo? Would he be a happier person? Could Mokuba have had a normal life? But at the same time, he wouldn't have the billion dollar business or would have never met Yugi or become a duelist. But he wasn't sure what his destiny was. He couldn't believe that every decision led to the same final choice.
"What was Yugi's destiny?"
"To send the Pharaoh on to the afterlife. To grant him his peace."
Isis's answer was too quick, too certain, too wrong for Kaiba to accept.
"So once Yugi has done this, fulfilling his destiny, he is allowed to be killed!"
Isis didn't have an answer for that.
"Was that his fate?"
"He's dead. Therefore it was his fate."
Kaiba kicked the statue as hard as he could. He nicked a chunk of concrete out of the base near the plaque with Gozaburo's name on it. It was calming and he kicked it again.
"All paths led to the same place, Kaiba. It is everyone's fate that they shall die. It is us who decides when it is our time to die."
"So Yugi decided to get mowed down by an M16A1 and die," Kaiba spat out. He was beginning to remember why he avoided talking to the women in the past. She was just infuriating.
"That wasn't what I meant. He made a choice to go to America. He made decisions when the shooting began. Those choices led to his death."
"He never had a choice!" he growled.
"If we weren't talking about Yugi or his death, would you say the same? You are someone who is certain that they make their own destiny and that if you make a mistake; you are inviting others to kill you. Is it not the same?"
She stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, pushing the strands of black hair out of her eyes. "Think about it, Kaiba-san."
He watched her walk to the top of the hill where she had parked her car, and he kicked the statue again.
"I am not good. That is the difference between him and me," he muttered to the open sky.
'''''''''' '''''''''' '''''''''' '''''''''' ''''''''''
"I didn't know you drank coffee," Shizuka commented as she entered the kitchen carrying a box of doughnuts.
"Neither did I," Jonouchi responded, opening the box to grab one of the glazed, and he dunked it in his drink. Shizuka wrinkled her nose in disgust and he laughed. " If you put enough milk and sugar in it, it doesn't taste bitter anymore."
"I'll keep that in mind next time I need caffeine." She grabbed one of the plain with pink frosting and sprinkles and bite into it delicately. "These are pretty good."
Jonouchi smiled at her, grabbing another doughnut and devouring it within seconds.
A few minutes later and Jonouchi had eaten ten of the doughnuts out of the dozen she had brought. He was leaning back in his chair, hands covering his stomach, looking slightly ill.
"Jou, do you eat anything other then the things I bring for you every morning?" Shizuka had to ask. No reasonable person would devour that many doughnuts in that short of a period of time.
He didn't answer her and she sighed.
"I know you can't cook but why don't you use the money I give you and treat yourself to some fast food?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Then why did you just eat ten doughnuts in ten minutes."
"Uh…. they tasted good." He gave her a sheepish look and she scowled.
"Why don't you want to go out and eat?"
A staring match began as Jonouchi refused to say what was really bothering him and she was not going to give in just because what she might say might offend him.
Finally Jonouchi relented and talked. "I used to go to all those places with Yugi and everybody. Now I have no one to go with, and it makes me feel lonely, sitting there by myself."
"I will go with you if you want me to!"
"No. I don't want you missing school for me, Shizuka. Thanks for offering though…"
"Anytime. I can bring you dinner tonight since I don't have flute lessons."
"Alright." He smiled and on a whim, reached over and ruffled her hair. She gave an indigent squeak before moving her head away from him.
"How's your counseling sessions going?"
Jonouchi groaned. Part of the deal with him leaving the hospital was that when he returned to Japan, he had to see a therapist. He thought it was the stupidest idea that he had ever been subjected to.
"Pretty bad. She asks me questions about the shooting and how'd it make me feel. And of course I don't remember any part of the trip until I am in the hospital so she then asks me about my life and events, and half of them I can't tell her because they are either illegal or involve Atem and other-worldly abilities and events. It's like I am constantly having to lie to her and I still have to go to five more sessions with her. I don't know how long I can keep my lies straight."
Shizuka chuckled and checked her watch. It was time for her to leave for school and she stood up, pushing in her chair. Jonouchi nodded a good-bye and she left, running as fast as she could so she wouldn't be late
'''''''''' '''''''''' '''''''''' '''''''''' ''''''''''
She'd decide to go somewhere and find herself there in twenty minutes with no memory of the journey. It felt like her body was connected to puppet strings and someone else was making her walk so she didn't have to think. This could have been bad, but she hadn't been killed yet so she didn't worry about not focusing on her walk home from work. She'd end up there fine, body intact.
Honking of cars, the blaze of neon lights lighting up street after street, and the stream of people entering the freeways of the sidewalk; they were all things that she passed by that she no longer noticed, lost in her thoughts. It wasn't that her thoughts were engrossing or fascinating. They were just thoughts that had nothing to them, like a blank chalkboard waiting to be filled up with something but she didn't hold the chalk to write the words.
Her apartment was on the second floor of some crumbling building and she walked up the stairs and down the dark hallway whose nightlight had blown out the previous year. She fished for her key in her pocket and entered the apartment, placing her keys on the hook by the door. Checking to make sure she had set all six locks on her door, she turned on the lamp that was her only light source beside the dingy window that overlooked the city.
It was one small room with an overstuffed mattress in one corner, piled high with various comforters and sheets, and a pile of all her belongings in another corner, placed on a towel to make sure the clothes didn't get dirty. A small cubicle was in the darker recesses of the room where she had her bathroom, an itsy shower stall, toilet, and sink filling it almost to capacity. It was in that back corner that she kept her safe, and she walked over to it, making sure to avoid the rusty nails that were poking out of the floorboards.
She spun the combination lock until she got it open, and then placed all the money she had earned for the day into it, closing it. She couldn't leave anything of value out in the open at the chance someone might be able to penetrate all the locks and security traps she had set. Her dueling deck was also kept in the safe because it was to her, more valuable then the money she had earned. It had sentimental value to her and also was a key source of her income. Dueling was a way for her to get and keep cheap money.
She closed the safe and stood up, sitting on the futon. She slipped off her heels and massaged her aching blistered feet, then took her hair out of its high ponytail. Stripping off her mini-skirt and corset, she put on a pair of boxers and climbed into bed exhausted. It was almost three a.m. and she had to get up at six to be to work at seven for her other job. Curling up in her heavy cocoon of blankets, she dozed off almost instantly.
''''''''' ''''''''' ''''''''' ''''''''' ''''''''' ''''
Night 6 post-funeral and Mokuba had had it. He could no longer deal with the incessant clicking of the keyboard all night long and the bickering in English when his brother wasn't getting his way.
This wasn't something abnormal for Mokuba to hear. His brother was a night owl in general but since moving into the room next door to Kaiba's bedroom, he finally got to see it for himself.
Maybe because he wanted to believe that his brother was healthy, he failed to notice the aroma of coffee that permeated throughout the hallway and the bathroom cabinet that was lined with caffeine pills, eye drops, energy drinks, and concealer to hide the bags under his eyes. But he could no longer ignore it and he got out of bed, opening the door that connected he and his brother's rooms.
Kaiba was sitting at his desk, cradling the phone with his shoulder as he typed into the computer whatever the person on the other line was telling him, occasionally grabbing his huge mug to gulp down black coffee. In all senses, he looked just like he did when he was at Kaiba Corp. except he didn't wear flannel pajamas to work on a daily basis.
Mokuba sat on the bed, waiting patiently, as Kaiba yelled gibberish into the phone and waited for his brother to calm down after he slammed the phone down. His brother was puffing, riled up and his eyes slipped closed as he downed the last sip of the coffee. He stood up with the mug and crossed the room to pour himself another cupful. Mokuba wasn't sure his brother noticed him as he sat back down by his computer so Mokuba decided to talk and make his presence known.
"When is the last time you've slept, Nisama?"
"Not sure," was his answer and Mokuba was happy that his brother didn't lie to him flat-out.
"You haven't slept in the past six days unless you are doing it while you are at Kaiba Corp."
"Have I? I haven't noticed." His tone was almost wistful and he sounded so lost, like he was battling his hardest to keep awake.
Mokuba stood up and pushed the chair so his brother spun to face him. " It's not healthy what you are doing to yourself."
It wasn't. His brother's skin was pallid, lacking any sort of color except for the bright blue of his eyes, which was obstructed by the red lines stretched along his eyes. The pajamas that had fit snugly a few weeks earlier were too big and dangling off him, so Kaiba had rolled the sleeves up, exposing his bony wrists. Mokuba was anticipating his brother to start shaking from caffeine withdrawal next if this pattern kept up.
"I know. But when have I have done anything good for myself?" Kaiba grinned. It pained Mokuba to see it. It was so twisted like he was enjoying indulging in his masochistic tendencies.
"Maybe you should start treating yourself better. You deserve it." Mokuba knew his comments were futile and his brother was thinking how innocent he was acting, not knowing the harsh realties of the real world, but his brother tended to brood things over. Eventually it would sink into his head if he said it enough times.
"You should," Mokuba added before his brother got around to rebuking the comment. He could see how slow Kaiba was thinking from lack of sleep, and he grabbed his brother's hands, pulling him onto the bed. Kaiba went along willingly and Mokuba slipped a pillow under his brother's head as he lay him down and then scooted to sit next to him.
"You need to sleep. You can't accomplish anything if you can't deny one of my lame acquisitions," Mokuba told him and Kaiba nodded, turning his head into the pillow. These were one of the moments that he was thankful that his brother had devoted his life to him. It gave him the ability to make his brother do whatever was needed. Even stubborn Kaiba knew he needed to sleep. He just needed permission to.
"What were you trying to do?" he asked, flopping down to lie on the other side of the bed.
"Get video capture of the shooting," Kaiba mumbled into the pillow. His eyes were glued shut and his breathing was evening out. He was near sleep.
"Why?"
"Cause'…" Kaiba never finished his sentence as he had fallen to sleep, but Mokuba didn't mind too much. It was something that could be answered a different day. It explained enough to why
Kaiba was talking so late on the phone: the time zones.
'''''''''' '''''''''' '''''''''' '''''''''' ''''''''''
"Red-Eyes Black Dragon, attack!" he yelled and the hologram shot forward, blowing a fireball into the Silver Wolf's face, scorching its fur into black and it crumbled into ashes. Jonouchi heard the beeping of life points falling on the counter contained in the dueling disks and he cheered, hearing the last noise that signaled he had won.
The kids he was demonstrating to cheered, and he smiled inwardly. He was doing a good job at spiking their interest in the game and he crossed the stage to shake hands with his opponent, a tiny Korean boy with thick-rimmed glasses dressed in a plaid tweed suit. The boy just glared at him, refusing to take his outstretched hand, and Jonouchi shrugged, walking back to his respective corner.
"Any…"
A huge bang echoed throughout the hall outside the auditorium and everyone visibly jumped. Clacking of shoes marching down the hall began and Jonouchi looked around nervously. It reminded him of parades he had seen on TV in Communist Countries and he moved away from the door unconsciously.
"Scared, Jonouchi?"
"Why would I be?" he responded and he heard a gun shot. He watched in horror as the bullet pierced the kid's skull, nearly making it out the other side. He could see it, the tip hidden under stretched out skin that refused to break.
He was pretty sure it wasn't him who screamed first. That was all he knew. The room went into a state of panic and the hundred or so odd kids who were crowded in the auditorium moved, surging towards the door and windows. He remained frozen to the wall, too scared to remain where he was, but afraid of what could be waiting outside the door for them. Unlike the kids, he had been in fights before and had to think his way out of life or death situation. The bullet had come from the hallway. The person who shot it could still be waiting for him.
But unlike those fights, there were no guns or projectiles. It was fist vs. fist and once the enemy came into sight, the war began. It ended when one person got away. It was rare to die in those fights and Jonouchi remained against the wall, thinking it was his best option. It wasn't like he could get out the door if he tried. The kids had formed a mob rushing for it.
The pitter-patter of a machine gun, and it was like a sick version of dominos as the kids who had thrown open the double doors were mowed down, their bodies falling on the kids behind them. And yet the children kept running up the aisles, meeting their deaths like a bunch of fools and Jonouchi knew he wasn't safe.
He dove off the stage, trying to get out of the open area, and flung himself into the blue velvet curtains. He could hear the anguished screams of the people who had yet to die, and the maniacal laugher of the gunmen as they fired off more and more shots. The sound was getting closer and he crawled towards the back stage door. He had entered the room earlier through it and he knew it led to a hallway. If he got into the hallway, he could make a run for it and get as far as he could from the school.
He tried to drown out what was going on around him, trying to ignore the death that was occurring around him and the fear that was gripping him. He needed to survive. There was no time for worrying or feeling pity. But something changed as he reached the door, and he realized he no longer heard the machine gun. He stopped moving and drew himself to kneel behind a dusty piano.
The shots were less sporadic now, coming from single-shot rifles. He could hear whispering and when he concentrated, he could hear the soft pleads to spare their lives or prayers to their God that their deaths would be quick. He felt ill and he paused, trying not to cry or puke, which were both things, he could feel working their way out of his body.
Suddenly, he heard the machine gun fire and it was right outside the door. He could hear it rattling against something and he had a feeling it was the door. The door could be locked and he sprung up, running as hard as he could through the back stage area to put some distance between the door being blown off the hinges. He prayed that the gunmen weren't on the stage and won't hear his frantic breathing or feet slapping the ground, as he got right behind the curtain at the back of the stage.
He stopped running, and paused, listening for motion. It was perfectly silent and it scared him. He switched to breathing through his nose, trying to keep the breaths as tiny as possible as to not make a single sound, and something told him he should duck.
He did and the bullet wheezed past where his ear had once been. He swore under his breath, seeing his error in pausing behind a curtain that basically molded to anything behind it, and tore open the curtains in the back. He knew it was a dumb move but so was running behind a curtain that the shooters could see him through. At least he could see the grim reaper coming for him before he died.
He ran for the far corner of the stage, trying to distance himself from the shooters he thought were coming from the side door and the ones he assumed were in the audience. He saw a door and he opened it, praying it was helpful.
It was and it wasn't. The room was dead bodies strewn about. It was flooded in blood and he swore he saw more spare body parts then he saw full bodies. He tried not to focus on it and looked around for another door. He saw nothing, not even a window and he swore, realizing this was a death trap.
So he did the only thing he thought he could do. He found some of the bodies that were more put together and covered himself with them, lying face first in the pool of blood. Hopefully they'd assume he was dead and leave him alone.
He heard the door slide open and felt the vibrations of feet walking along the tile floors on his stomach. He tried to diminish his breathing to not give himself away and prayed he looked bloody enough that he'd blend in with the surroundings.
His mind wandered as he lay there still, listening to the door opening and closing as gunmen entered or left. He didn't understand why there were so many body parts lying around. The bodies, though he didn't closely examine them, didn't look like they had limbs ripped off them. They looked like they were cut clean off like amputees. Maybe this was someone else's death chamber that didn't like to use guns. If it was, he might have a fighting chance.
They were getting closer and he tried not to think how grimy he was feeling and how much he wanted a bath or to wipe the blood off his face.
He felt a foot right next to him, could feel the light splash it made in the pool and the smell of rubber was a good clue. He felt it touch his body and kick where his ribs were.
He tried not to scream or react but it hurt! It felt like something broke inside of him and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out. He felt the boot digging into his side and he felt himself being flipped over. He kept his eyes closed and held his breath, hoping the boy would leave him alone. Surely right side up, he could tell he wasn't another corpse.
He could feel the eyes on him as if it was a physical touch, and suddenly, he felt the foot stomping on the already hurt rib. He didn't have time to stop his scream and he swore inwardly.
"Get up," the gunmen ordered and Jonouchi opened his eyes to see brown eyes staring him down. The kid couldn't have been much younger then him, black paint covering his face, dressed in a grubby wife beater, camouflage pants and thick work boots.
Jonouchi went along with the kid, kneeling in front of the kid as the boy placed a gun at his Adam's apple.
"I almost didn't see you lying there. Hell, none of us did. I almost respect that," the kid mumbled, flicking the safety off the pistol.
But not enough to not kill him, Jonouchi knew, and he met his executor's eyes as the finger came to rest alongside the trigger. Hell, if he was going to die, he mine as well make a lasting effect on the kid's psyche.
He heard the shot and expected to feel the bullet hitting him or feel nothing as he would certainly die once it hit him, but instead, he watched the brown eyes dull and the boy fell over, still clutching his precious gun. Jonouchi stared at the boy in a mixture of sadness and hope, and forced his eyes to look up.
A blonde girl was standing at the door, pointing the gun at him, and she lowered it, walking towards him. She stopped to pick up the gun and empty out the cartridge, and she placed the bullets in her already bulging pockets. He noticed that she had a gun in the waistband of her shorts, and she smiled warmly at him.
"Are you okay?" she asked, kneeling next to him.
She put out her hand to help him up and he looked up to see a figure looming at the door. He didn't have time to scream out as the gun was shot and as it struck the girl in the back, sending her body forward to fall on his…
"Jou! Jou! Wake up!"
He could hear the yelling from far away but couldn't bring himself to go and find out what the voice wanted out of him.
He felt something cold brush against his forehead and that was what woke him up. Shizuka was sitting next to him, wiping his face down with a wet cloth, and he suddenly remembered his dream.
"You were screaming, begging for help," Shizuka whispered, clutching his hand. He could see now that she was crying, and he reached out to hug her.
When she had quieted down, he made his request. " Can you give me the phone?"
"Why? Who could you call at this hour?" she asked, getting up to search for the handheld.
"I need to speak to Mai."
"Can't it wait until morning?" Shizuka found the phone under the pile of dirty clothes and tossed it to him. It landed neatly on the bed and he picked it up, dialing her number from memory.
"No. It wouldn't take long. I'll go back to sleep afterwards."
The phone rang a dozen times before he heard a sleepy voice answer, " Hello."
"Hey, Mai. I didn't think you would be sleeping now. I'm sorry for waking you up."
"It's okay. I had to do double shifts at work. What do you need?"
"I am starting to remember the shooting and I have a question. Did you get shot?"
The other line was quiet and Jonouchi swore he could hear his heart beating.
"Mai, you there?"
There was a long pause before the girl answered. " Yeah. I didn't get shot."
"But I saw it in my dream!"
"Jonouchi, dreams are just that. They are not real. Maybe what you are dreaming isn't a memory but something you made up!" She sounded kind of cranky and defensive that Jonouchi knew meant something but he couldn't figure out what.
"It felt real though."
"Dreams wouldn't be any good if we didn't believe for a second that they were actually happening," she responded. " Good night."
Jonouchi clicked off the phone and set it down on the floor. He sighed and stared at the ceiling. He knew his dreams were real. They had to be. But if she wasn't shot…then they couldn't be.
'''''''''' '''''''''' '''''''''' '''''''''' ''''''''''
After Jonouchi's call, she had gotten two more hours of sleep before she had to report to work at five p.m. dinner rush. So at ten of five, she sauntered into the restaurant in her uniform of stilettos, shorts that just barely covered her rear end, and a tight-fitting t-shirt with the restaurant's logo on it, fully made up and hyper from her meal of pixie sticks and diet coke which was all she had in her apartment to eat.
It was crowded already and she was immediately told to start getting orders from the dinner party that had just come in. It was a bunch of middle age businessmen dressed in suits, chugging down alcoholic beverages as if it was their last day alive. She guessed they were Rotarians based on the horror stories she heard about them, and how many people canceled when they were scheduled to work Tuesdays at this time.
She went over to them and she concentrated on writing their second round of drink orders, instead of the leering eyes and the "accidental" touching. She had gotten used to serving the perverts sadly and after she wrote down their sixth bottle of wine that they wanted, she thanked them and walked away to give it to the bartender.
So focused she was on weaving through the dimly lit room with its waiters, patrons, and screaming children – though she had no idea why adults would bring kids to a place like this – that she didn't notice the yelling of one of her dinner guests until he grabbed her shoulder. Instinct took over before she had a chance to think, and she batted away his hand and had her fingertips pressed into his throat, prepared to choke him.
The man looked at her in fear and she realized what she was doing. She let go and stared at him in shock, blinking a few times to try to clear the cobwebs in her mind. "What do you need, Sir?" she finally asked.
"We need a birthday cake."
She nodded and walked away as fast she could. She quickly handed the list to the bartender and told the cook what he had to do, and collapsed in the corner. She was freaked out that she had reacted so badly to someone touching her. He wasn't a threat. She should have known that. He wasn't going to kill her. She knew that. But still, she had responded.
"Mai, get back to work!" yelled the manager and she took a few calming breaths before standing up. She was positive by the end of the night, he would have had of what happened because half of the dinner guests had seen her display of power, and she vowed she wasn't going to mess up. She needed this job so she could afford the plane ticket for her next trip to Japan for competition.
She got the drinks from the bartender and placed them on the serving plate. Checking to make sure she had something to set it on, she hoisted it up onto her shoulder and palm, and made the long walk to the table.
Of course it had to be in the back of the room and all the men were closet alcoholics so the tray was extremely heavy. She could feel the muscles in her arm shaking as she neared the table and as she lowered the food down onto the bench, she heard shooting. Against her better judgment, she set it down very quickly, allowing the drinks to slosh and some run down the container. She looked around frantically for the noise and seeing that it was only one of the arcade games, she gave a nervous smile and reached for the napkins cleaning up the mess she made.
She got out of there with a few catcalls from the men and very little pride intact to see the manager snarling at her.
"What was that?" he yelled.
"I panicked," she responded, not bothering to lie.
He stared her down and she just causally waited for him to stop being a dickhead. The guy was very short and in heels, she towered over him. "This is the fifth time you dropped your tray."
It was actually four. She didn't spill the tray this time.
He continued. " Tell me why I shouldn't fire you."
Now that Mai thought about it, there was no reason for her to beg for her job like she had done the previous nights when she had been asked the same question. " There is no reason you shouldn't fire me," she began and then decided to forgo niceties and say what she always wanted to say about the place. " I am tired of being leered at and being pinched and prodded like a bunch of meat. I am sick of getting drinks for customers and smiling at them when they won't give me a tip that doesn't even allow me to buy dinner. I am sick of you telling me to put up with the groping and all the abuse and shit I take from customers because it's my job and I am sick of seeing your arrogant face every day at work when you don't bring a cent into this place!"
She stormed away, furious at the guy and feeling rather proud of herself when she heard his words, " I make you do those things because you are nothing more than a whore!"
She turned around, resisting her temptation to walk back over to him and slap him. " No, Matt. I am so much more then one of your little whores."
She left to the sound of various people cheering and she slipped off her heels the second she got out the door and walked back to her apartment. In the bright light from the sun and fully awake, she felt disgusted looking at the place. She was sick of living in a dirty place where the roof leaked and there was no heat or air conditioning. She was sick of working three jobs so she could afford to compete and then spend her earnings on a ticket home so she could work the next day.
She was sick of a lot of things and she smiled, opening her safe for the last time, grabbing her deck of cards, and all the money she had saved up.
Maybe the shooting had been a bad thing. Maybe because of it, she just lost another job. But it just showed her what mattered. She didn't want to keep using her looks to get her places and spend all her time working and sleeping. She had things she had wanted to do in her life when she was little, and now…the shooting had granted her the opportunity to. She needed, for her own sanity, to get away from her old life and start a new one.
She ran down the stairs for the last time, and went to the payphone that sat across the street. She inserted a quarter, the only tip she had gotten during her hour of working, and let it ring until someone picked up.
"Hey. I would like to buy a one-way ticket to Japan."
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Kaiba stumbled out of bed to answer the door. It was four a.m. and he had finally got off the phone with an annoying police officer who after three hours of negotiation, had agreed to send him the videotapes of the shooting after he offered to pay her one million yen. It was too bad she didn't know that wasn't too much in American money.
Mai was standing on his front porch, drenched from the rain that had been falling all afternoon and night.
She smiled at him.
He let her in without a word.
Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait. Truthfully it has only been a week which is normal for me, but it feels like much longer because if you read my blog, I finished this on Sunday and just haven't uploaded it because I was at Middlebury College, touring.
Kaiba + Guns: Kaiba is well-educated, probably the best one in the entire series despite the fact he never goes to school or so it seems, since I remember seeing him in the first episode of the TV series and from then on, in school episodes, he's not there. Then again, it's been two or three years since I've seen those episodes. I saw those when they first came out on the WB, which I believe was 02' because they took Cardcaptors shortly before it I believe.
Back on topic, Kaiba obviously knows business and computers. I view him as someone who would also know something about weapons/guns. I mean, Kaiba Corp. was run by Gozaburo for quite some time and it produced military equipment or funded it. Gozaburo would most likely taught him the basics of it, thinking that Kaiba would just follow along and run the company that way in the event that Gozaburo died or was unable to work.
Kaiba and Isis: Isis is probably the only other female in the anime series besides Mai that is noticeably strong. The case for Anzu being a strong women can be argued but it is not obvious. She is one of the few characters who stands up to Kaiba and doesn't immediately gets dismissed by him. Kaiba, I believe, respects her in the aspect that they are similar in the way they care for their brothers, sacrificing so much to make sure they can be happy, but at the same time, I think he gets really angry at her. She is a passive person who allows life to happen while Kaiba has a "I have a plan and I am going to win at all costs" mentality. In essence, she is what he wishes he could be and that is why he sometimes allows her to spew the bullshit about fate, and then just leaves because it depresses him too much to believe fate can't be changed, because he has worked his entire life to do just that and if it can't be changed, it's been for nothing.
Fate and Destiny: I remember once I was going in to see my therapist and I got on a conversation with my mother about fate and destiny. The whole exchange with Kaiba and Isis has to do with the two terms and so I will explain what my views on them are.
Destiny is something we are meant to do in life. It is something that is decided at birth and if we achieve it or not is up to us. The abilities we are given such as our personalities, genetics, heritage, etc. exist for us to complete it.
However, we are born with free choice. Personalities and characteristics about ourselves can change through abuse or schooling, or desiring to be someone different then what we are. Destiny therefore is not fixed.
Because we have choices, fate exists. Fate is the result of the choices we take. Our fate could be achieving our destiny or it could be failing miserably at it because we were inadequately prepared to handle it.
Final Words
The shooting is finally going to be shown and I am very excited. I have only been having this dream for the past few months and I get to express it now. When I was writing it, I had problems getting the anger and sadness of it. I think this was partially because it was so long ago that I had the vision and I lost the feelings that occur when you get warped up in something that you believe is real.
I found it. When I started thinking about how I would feel and imagining the scene, I cried. I felt miserable all day and in other words, it was perfection.
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