Rushed, very rushed. So it may sound pathetic and choppy, but I've been very busy lately, so this was the best I could do on short notice. Hope you enjoy!
I hate the little bits with Marik as a child. He's way OOC in them, especially wehn I TRY to get him more Canon-ish, but instead ending up with a victim of a pedophile. (Groans) A perverted kid, in other terms. I hope I made him okay enough though. He'll get more Canon-ish as the story progresses. And yeah, have you noticed the pattern between Malik and Marik? The different names are differently used in different circumstances. Can you guess which?
XD Enjoy! Read and review!
Chapter Four
Ryou POV
Taking a deep breath, a grinned, and continued my way off the stage. I felt so giddy inside! Being able to finally sing on stage without embarrassing myself truly elated my heart to the heavens! Shaking with happiness, I looked up towards the ceiling, almost expecting my angel to appear before me, to give me a proud and congratulating smile.
There was nothing but darkness.
Still, it didn't bother me too much. After all, I could hardly expect an angel, guardian or not, to float down from the heavens just to congratulate me. I was merely a mortal boy. Perhaps one day I would see my Angel's face, when I had finally reached my goal.
Yet, there seemed to be a small, proud swelling inside of me that was not my own; though small as it was, it seemed to be pleased, like a single smile in the darkness. Was it my Angel?
Laughing, Yugi lunged at me, tackling me quite hard around the waist. The small, unfamiliar smile that I had felt within me vanished, replaced by my own pride.
"That was so beautiful, Ryou!" Yugi squealed, stepping back and beaming at me. I laughed, before also drawing him into a hug.
"Thanks, Yugi," I said, smiling softly. "It meant a lot to me. Thanks."
Yugi beamed wider in reply. "No problem, Ryou-kun! See! I told you you could do it! You just needed some confidence." With that, he playfully poked at me again, before hurrying off back to his seat. I looked up and saw that Honda and Jonouchi were winking playfully at me, before disappearing into another boyish fight in the back. Honda sent me a wide grin when his face reappeared and Jonouchi sent me a thumbs-up. Giggling, I waved back, before settling myself down in my seat.
When I looked back onto the stage, I was disappointed to see that Marik was no longer there. Had he left when I was singing? At this, my heart sank slightly, before I flinched. Leisurely thoughts! As my Angel said! No romance!
…wait. What romance?
I didn't care for Marik…did I?
After I first met Malik, we became instant, brotherly friends. I liked how he was so eager and so curious about everything. Once in a while, I would actually find him snooping through my things in effort to find something in the above world; books and whatnot. One time he had found my father's musical notes and ran to me, looking very quizzical.
"What's this?" he asked, holding the sheets of notes upside-down at me. "This is strange! Is this some sort of foreign language? It's not English."
I laughed, hugging him as I took the sheets away from his fingers.
"It's musical notes," I explained, plopping on the bed. He plopped right after me, staring at me with his pale lavender eyes. They looked so pretty. At times, they reminded me of watercolors of sunrises, especially when his golden hair flailed right in front of them.
"Musical notes?" he asked, giving me a quizzical look as he cocked his head to one side.
I nodded. "Haven't you ever heard of music before?" I asked, slightly surprised.
He shook his head. "No," he said.
I was stunned, merely sitting there, blinking at him. Finally, he seemed to realize my surprise, and gave me hesitant, sheepish look, as one child does when they think they've done something wrong.
"…What…is music?" he asked hesitantly.
"You don't know what music is?" came my father's voice, also incredulous.
Both of us swiveled our heads at the door, where he was standing. Making a surprised face, he took off his archeologist hat, throwing it like a Frisbee upon my bed, shaking his gray-white hair slightly.
Our family, despite having all white hair and pale skin, had different characteristics of shading in our hair. Mine was a vivid, snowy white, Father's was a pale lavender white, my mother's a cerulean white, and Amane's, strangely enough, had red tints in her hair. My father always had his in a pony-tail, and he had it cut short, just past his shoulders. Mother's was long enough past her waist, and Amane's wore hers like mine. Mother's had curls. Father's was straight.
Shaking his head once more, Father took the sheet of music from my hand, and looked at them, before breaking out into a smile.
"My my," he said, laughing. "You just had to find a fun score, didn't you?"
I clapped my hands. "Masquerade!"
"Masquerade?" Malik repeated, blinking again. "What does that mean?"
"It's sort of like a masked ball," I explained, twirling around excitedly, before sitting back on my bed. "Where everyone dances and wears disguises and costumes, so that you can't tell who you're dancing with."
"Ah, I see," Malik nodded. He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "What does it sound like?" he asked, when he looked back at me.
"Well then, let me play for you!" Father laughed excitedly. He reached underneath my bed, tickling my dangling feet as he did so, and pulled out his violin case. Straightening, he positioned himself, before he began to play. I laughed happily, clapping my hands as I bounced on the bed.
"Masquerade! Paper faces on parade! Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you!" I sang. Father laughed also, and sang with me. "Masquerade! Spinning yellows spitting red, Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!"
"Flash of mauve, splash of puce!" I sang.
"Fool and king, ghoul and goose!" my father continued, nodding animatedly.
"Green and black, queen and priest!"
"Trace a rouge, face a beast!"
Laughing, I hugged Malik tight, beaming at him. "Do you like it?"
Blinking cutely, he nodded hesitantly. Yet his eyes seemed somewhat distant, somewhat…sad.
"Malik?" I asked, looking concerned. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, still looking distant. "Nothing…"
I blinked worriedly. "Do you not like it?"
He made another hesitant face. "I …I like it," he said, looking a little uncertain.
"So…what's wrong?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Nothing…" he said distantly, as though recalling memories of his own. "Nothing…"
How long had I been daydreaming! Startled, I jolted back out of my reminiscent trance, and focused hard on the stage now. I could not be tempted!
….by what, exactly, though?
At any rate, I focused hard on the stage once more. Honda and Jonouchi were on, goofing off with play swords.
"…the Angel of Death!" Jonouchi yelled, whapping Honda's sword vengefully, sending it flying out of his hand and through the dangling jewels of the chandelier. A paste diamond had been cut loose, and promptly fell, quite undignified, onto Jonouchi's head.
For a moment, Jonouchi froze, staring straight in front of him with a hilarious expression on his face. Laughter echoed in the audience and as I turned towards the door, I saw Ayato red in the face from containing his laughter. Yet, his hand was trembling as he pinned it over his mouth, before he burst out laughing.
For a moment, Honda froze also, before he also burst out laughing, pointing at Jonouchi's horrified face.
"Yes, Angel of Death!" Honda snickered, his shoulders shaking from his laughter. "Oh, stop it, Angel of Death, you're killing me! Oh, you're killing me! Stop! Stop!" He laughed again, slapping his leg as Jonouchi sent him a death glare. "Oh yes, you're killing me! What a torturistic way to kill me! Death by laughing gas!"
"DIE!" Jonouchi roared, but grinning as he thrust the sword pass Honda's arm. Honda mocked gagged, before crumpling to his feet, and Jonouchi yelled triumphantly, standing on Honda's stomach, before the brown haired teen swiftly rolled away, causing Jonouchi to collapse once more.
"You're killing me," Honda snickered simply.
Jonouchi stuck out his tongue. "How dumb do you think I am?"
"You really don't want me to answer that," Honda snickered again, before holding out a hand. Sticking out his tongue once more, Jonouchi got up, then stalked, with as much dignity as possible, down the steps. Still snickering, Honda followed.
I couldn't help but giggle with Yugi as this entire comedy happened. Jonouchi caught me giggling and gave me an exasperated look, which only made me giggle harder. Behind his back, Honda kept on making faces and pointing to him winking at me and Yugi. Once again, we burst out into giggles, before Yugi had to go on stage.
Yet, distinctly, I found myself daydreaming once more…
"Mah….lik?" I called out hesitantly, trying my best to get his name right. Relieved that I did this one time, I opened the door cautiously. I had heard a crash from his room and saw Rishid leave, giving me a small, apologetic smile as he did, before disappearing down the corridor. I blinked quizzically, before I creaked the door open fully, staring at Malik's back with worry.
"Mah…lik?" I asked again.
He turned around to see me, and I could see that he had been crying. Worry increasing, I rushed into the room, stopping short in front of him as he attempted to wipe away his tears.
"MahLik…" I said worriedly. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, his bottom lip trembling. I held onto his hand.
"What's wrong?"
Again he shook his head, but this time he answered. "It's…it's nothing."
"It's not nothing!" I cried out. Despite the fact that I had only known Malik for roughly around three weeks, the fact that I only had him as a friend scared me. "What's wrong?"
Tears leaked down his face as he stared at me, his wide, lavender eyes filling with more droplets of salty tears. "Ryou…have you …do you know when's my birthday?" he asked weakly.
I sat back, staring up at him, frowning with thought. Had I missed his birthday? No…it was only coming up within the week…
…suddenly, my eyes widened, and I gasped, covering my hand with my mouth.
"Oh no!"
Suddenly, Malik burst out crying once more, burying his face into his arms, as his shoulders quaked with sobs.
"No…no it can't!" I said dumbly. I reached over to comfort him, despite my horror and shock. "No…no it can't!" I cried again.
"It is!" he wailed, sobbing still. "I'm going to turn ten this week! And you know what Keepers like me get when I'm ten!"
"But…but it's only a myth!" I insisted. "The Pharaoh can't really be alive, can he? Please, Mah-lik…it can't be! You can't have the initiation!"
He cried out once more, shoulders shaking violently as he sobbed into his arms.
I launched myself around his shoulders, but he pushed me back. I teetered on my seat for a moment, before crashing onto the floor. Yet, Malik still remained sobbing into his arms at the desk, his study book sprawled into the wall.
"No…I'll…I'll talk to Daddy!" I insisted. "We can't let you go to the initiation! You'll be hurt!"
"I know!" he wailed. "I know! I can't….I know I can't bear the pain…" he shuddered, before sobbing once more. "I'll die from it! I know I will!"
"No you won't!" I cried out. "You won't! You won't!"
He continued to sob, as I heard the door creak open once more. My father stood at the doorway, blinking with shock at our crying forms, before he hesitantly walked over to us. Gently, he laid a hand upon Malik's shoulder, speaking softly in effort to calm Malik down.
"Malik? What's wrong?" he asked.
For a while, Malik continued to cry, before he began rambling incoherently in fluent Egyptian, as my father listened patiently. I had no idea what Malik was saying, so I merely sat back, and attempted to comfort him.
When he had finished, Father looked very grim. My father was hardly ever a solemn man. It had to be serious. It had to be true.
"I'll go speak with your father," my father said softly. "Don't worry, Malik. We'll sort everything out."
After my father wiped away my own tears and left to find Malik's father, Malik turned to me, his eyes shut tight, before…
.…for an instant, his hair flew into the air, shooting towards the heavens. His eyes narrowed considerably, and a faint, golden Eye formed on his head. My eyes widened as I scooted back, before …
"I HATE my father!" Marik yelled.
The only thing that awakened me again, was the fact that Jonouchi's sword had been thrown out of his hand, and flew towards me, nearly beheading my head along the way. Yelping out in surprise and fright, I ducked towards one side, feeling the plastic blade narrowly sweep through my hair, before nailing someone else behind me.
As I stood, I noticed that Honda and Jonouchi had attempted yet another fight, this time without the swords. However in his playful state, Honda had forgotten that plastic swords could break from the plastic straps from which they were held onto, so when he attempted to aim a kick at Jonouchi's abs, his foot had hooked beneath the sword and sent it flying towards me.
It was then I had begun to realize that people were snickering around me. Of course, they could've been finding it humorous that Jonouchi and Honda were having another playful fight, but I, being the overly sensitive shy boy that I was, decided that my face was a little too hot for my liking, despite the darkness of the auditorium. So, secretly deciding that I should just leave…
…I did.
After saying a hasty goodbye to Yugi, I quickly left the side doors of the auditorium, thankfully meeting the brightness of the empty hallways. Now that I was alone, I was more than pleased at myself for managing to get upon the stage and perform. And for that, I had my Angel to thank for.
Distinctly, as I began to wander the halls in effort to cool my face down from that rather awkward moment, my mind began to do its own wandering. Though my feet eventually took me down the tarnished oak steps and into the more silent and forbidden wings, my mind took me to more dreams of my past with my father in Egypt…
…and with Marik….
It was after his initiation, and Marik was still healing over his wounds. Sighing and obviously not very pleased to be confined in bed all day, I sat next to him, smiling occasionally to make him feel better, though the shock of the initiation still scared me.
As I sat there, idling fiddling with my long linen tunic, I discreetly began to observe Marik's appearance at the corner of my eyes. Wearing a rather crossed look, Marik's eyes were a deep lavender, smooth and unblemished. To some, they looked emotionless, and empty, but I found them rather beautiful, and very calming. They were narrower than usual, as Malik was quite known for his large, innocent and sweet eyes, but I paid little attention as my own trailed up towards his hair.
What remarkable hair!
Golden bangs, and flaxen strands shooting up towards the heavens. I had never known anyone who had hair like that other than Yugi, but Marik's were so spectacular, and dramatic. At that moment, I longed to feel those strands, wondering how they could possibly defy gravity so.
"What are you doing?" he asked, blinking when my hand hesitantly reached forward to feel his hair.
Instantly, I jerked my hand back to my side, looking sheepishly away. Why on earth was my own hand doing things on their own, without my own consent? Feeling my cheeks blush, I turn away, which was quite odd. I hardy ever blushed around Malik now, as I had gotten used to his brotherly nature, so whatever I did with him alone hardly seemed embarrassing, but somehow, it was awkward to be caught nearly feeling his hair.
"You're not answering me," Marik whined lightly.
Blush turning darker, I quietly replied back, which was, once again, odd, as I never was very quiet around Malik. I was only quiet around strangers and those who were authorities. So why was I speaking timidly, to my very first and only best friend?
"I…ah…just wanted to…feel your hair," I blurted out at the end, my cheeks blushing furiously.
"Feel my hair?" Marik repeated, shifting towards me. "Why would you want to feel my hair?"
I blushed once more, pulling my knees up on the chair, inadvertedly dropping a very old scarf of mine. "It's…really…pretty," was all I could say, since Marik could always tell if I was lying or not. He cocked his head towards the side, thinking thoughtfully.
"So…you wanted to touch my hair, because it was pretty?" he asked, blinking again.
Grinning weakly, I nodded. Thinking hard once more, Marik lightly scratched the back of his head, before he said:
"So…can I touch you, because I think you're pretty too?"
Blinking my eyes wide open, I spun around to face him, having never heard such a comment from him. Malik usually joked with my complexion, saying how pale it was and how I desperately needed a tan. But never before had I ever had someone tell me I was pretty!
After the surprise had a chance to sink in, my blush immediately returned to my cheeks, flushing them with a very visible pink. "You think…I'm pretty?"
Seemingly unaware of how badly I was blushing, Marik nodded, still looking very thoughtful. After a few moments of silence, he turned back to me, before he noticed the blush on my cheeks, which still hadn't disappeared.
"You're blushing," he said.
Flushing even darker, I weakly laughed. "Yeah…"
"You're pretty too when you blush."
This time I felt my jaw drop open, my eyes wide with utter surprise. Where on earth was this coming from? Malik rarely ever spoke of my complexion, unless it was to poke my nose and go, "You're too pale, let's sneak out!" So where on earth was this coming from?
At this time, Marik seemed to notice that I was feeling very embarrassed and gave me a curious look. "Don't you think you're pretty?" he asked.
I shook my head vigorously.
"Well, you are," he said simply, a note of finality in his voice. "So…can I touch you?"
"T-touch me?" I asked, confused and alarmed.
Marik looked at me, an indescribable gaze in his eyes. "Can I? You can touch my hair if you think it's pretty."
"Um….well….okay, I guess," I said, my fingers already reaching out to feel his hair. He shifted closer towards me, staring into my eyes as I timidly ran my fingers through his hair, surprised and squealing with excitement at the smooth, soft texture of his golden strands. They just…shot up! There was no other way to explain them. They just shot up.
"That feels good," he said quietly, as my eyes sparkled with excitement as I continued to feel his hair again and again. Giggling, I scooted closer, then standing up, so that I could feel his hair as high as it would go.
"Your hair is so…different," I said, giggling still.
As I was distracted by his hair, I barely noticed that Marik had stood up too, until he loomed over me, since he was a head taller than I was. I blinked up in surprise and wonder as he stared down at me, before drawing something around my waist. Blinking, I looked down, and saw that he had picked up my discarded scarf and was tying it softly with a bow around my waist.
When he had finished, he stood back, ignoring my protests that he should be in bed, and analyzed me. "Look. Now you're wearing a dress. And you don't look too bad in it, either."
I blinked repeatedly, before I realized that by pinching the scarf around my waist, indeed, my long tunic had been reduced to something more or less like a dress, and at the thought, I blushed furiously once more. Laughing, Marik wrapped his arms around me, giving me a warm embrace.
"See? It's okay if I hug you, right?" he asked. Breaking out into a smile, I giggled, and wound my arms around his neck, careful of his healing wounds.
"Yes, you can touch me," I giggled. "Since you let me touch you. I like your hair."
"I like your hair too," Marik smiled.
"Good evening," said a voice.
Immediately, I was jolted from my daydream, and whipped around, chiding myself. Why could I not stop thinking about Marik? However, after taking a deep breath and banishing such thoughts away from my head, I proceeded to look up to the voice.
A young man, perhaps in his early twenties, stood before me. Immediately I noticed him to be Egyptian, as his unblemished skin was smooth and a healthy caramel shade. He was rather thin and slender, and very tall. His head was wound with a rather large white turban, hiding any traces of any hair he could've possibly have. But those eyes…
They were a distant cerulean, smooth and blank. For a moment, they reminded me of how Marik's eyes used to be when he was younger, smooth and calming, but this man's eyes looked as though they were capable of seeing beyond everyday life. He stood tall, his arms hung limply by his sides, his face unemotional and devoid of any expression except possibly seriousness.
"Uh…hello," I mumbled, still surprised at the new acquaintance. "Good evening," I said, quickly regaining myself. "Ah… am I disturbing you…sir…?"
"My name is Shaadi," he said calmly, his face still without a trace of any emotion at all. He reached out a hand and I shook it, feeling a little awkward underneath his solemn gaze.
"Good evening, Shaadi," I nodded, hoping my Egyptian pronunciation didn't sound too trivial. "Are you enjoying the exhibit?"
"I am actually in charge of the exhibit," Shaadi replied. I blinked.
"Really?" I asked, very curious.
Shaadi barely nodded. "Yes. I am one of the few who are in charge of this exhibit. I work for Mr. And Miss Ishtal."
"Marik and Isis?" I cried out in surprise. "But, isn't Marik chaperoning the arts this year?"
"Mr. Ishtal has other interests other than the exhibit," Shaadi replied, walking towards the glass case which the tablet of the Nameless Pharaoh was laid. "Personally, I do doubt it that Mr. Ishtal would've came at all if it wasn't for the arts. Mr. Ishtal doesn't often like to be questioned about his knowledge about Egypt."
"I see," I said softly, nodding. Indeed, it was understandable. Marik hated the fact that he was a Keeper, especially when he was young.
"Rishid!" called Shaadi suddenly. Another Egyptian man appeared from the side door of the museum. For a moment, the name Rishid jarred me, since it sounded very familiar. When I turned to face the newcomer, my heart leapt at the familiarity of the stranger.
Rishid!
He had barely changed at all, though when he was still Malik's servant, he was certainly a lot happier. Now tall and very built, Rishid had pulled his long hair into a ponytail at the back of his otherwise bald head, his left cheek and temple scarred with hieroglyphics. His amber eyes were so narrow and so solemn, he seemed to be so cold and unforgiving.
However, upon seeing me, Rishid gave me a fleetest of a smile, before addressing to Shaadi. I grinned back, before I began to walk around the exhibit again, longing to memorize all the papyrus on the walls so I could take them back to my dormitory and translate them in my spare time. As Shaadi and Rishid exchanged a conversation in Egyptian (far too advanced for my limited knowledge) I spied a scroll in the darkness of the corners, and eagerly stepped forward to examine it beneath the glass display.
Squinting in attempts to read it, I bent down, wishing that the dust had been brushed away so it would not cover the elegant letters. Furrowing my brow in concentration, I attempted to read the scroll to its full extent, but with no avail. Its words confused me so, but it seemed to be a rather long entry of a diary of sorts, describing a rather terrible day at the palace. Did it belong to a servant? I highly doubted that, since servants were not granted the permission to read and write, but then perhaps a very well educated farm boy.
"Still very interested, I see," said a voice behind me.
Jumping again and tiredly annoyed at how people seemed to have the tendency to scare me so, I turned around again, but smiled when I merely saw Rishid standing before me, a small smile on his face and his amber eyes softer than usual. I grinned in reply. One could never get a grin from Rishid, so one would've been ecstatic to see Rishid smiling a small smile. It was as far as he could go with displaying his emotions.
"Yes, I am," I said, beaming. "How are you enjoying Britain?"
Rishid made a rather odd shrug of his eyebrows, since he had the decency to avoid shrugging his shoulders. Servants never really did express themselves through bodily contact. But the shrug of his eyebrows told me that he didn't quite care for Britain at all, and I smiled at this.
"How long are you staying here?" I asked.
"As long as it needs be," he said simply. "Master Marik and Mistress Isis have much to do here. Even with Master Shaadi helping, I do doubt we could ever finish in time. Your father sent many things for us to display, and many are still loading in."
"Where are Isis and Marik anyway?" I asked.
"Mistress Isis is getting ready for her education," Rishid replied simply, still looking serious. "She will be attending your school here, as she is still yet a minor."
"She's still a minor?" I yelped, surprised. Isis could hardly ever seem to be a minor at all!
"Excuse me," Rishid apologized, closing his eyes so. "I meant to say that Mistress Isis has not completed her schoolwork nor her school years. Hence, she will be staying here and attending education here until she finishes her last year, and then proceed to continue the family archeology business."
"But what about Marik?"
"Master Marik has longed finished school," Rishid replied. "He has finished for about a year, already."
"Really?" I inquired. "But if Isis still needs to …"
"Mistress Isis has been taking care of the family business since Master Marik was young," Rishid explained patiently. "Much of her time as been taken to supervise the museum, and during that time, Master Marik has had the chance to be educated properly. He graduated with high honors."
I beamed. Marik had always been very strategic, though he was very stubborn. Such traits would no doubt get him very high marks in school, though he never really seemed to like it anyways. "That's wonderful! Can I see him?"
"Unfortunately, I had no current idea as to where he is," Rishid admitted. "But I suppose you ought to check your dormitory…he is very pleased to see you."
"He is?" I asked, feeling oddly anxious.
Rishid's smile returned. "Oh yes," he said softly. "And we are very glad. Master Marik has not been in the best of moods since you left. You know how violent he can be at times."
Looking at my feet, I nodded. "Yes," I said quietly. Distinctly, I remembered a time, when I was ready to depart for home to Britain, one of the worker's older son and his group of friends had tried to attack me…I shuddered. Marik had taken down each and every one of them with such violent fervor, it had scared me. Nevertheless, I still cared for him, and I was very thankful to him for saving me that day.
There was a moment of silence, when I had hoped in my heart to perhaps see Marik walking through the door again, or perhaps even Isis, until Rishid broke it. He spoke softly, his tone hinting brotherly care, as he had taken care of me as well as he had taken care of any other one of the Ishtals since I had met them.
"You ought to go to back to your dormitory, Ryou," he said. "You do not look very well."
"I don't?" I asked, blinking confusedly. "How so?"
Taking my wrist as he did when I was nine, Rishid began to lead me towards the slightly open oak doors, where Shaadi was standing in front of, his gaze focused at a very odd angle to look at the Nameless Pharaoh's tomb. As my eyes trailed curiously towards Shaadi, I asked softly, "Who is Shaadi, Rishid? I've never seen him before."
Rishid closed his eyes, carefully guiding me as though a child towards the door. "Perhaps you will find out soon enough. Just do not be too surprised if Shaadi seems to appear out of nowhere before your very eyes." Finally reaching the doors, he opened them, gesturing to the grand staircase. "I would lead you if you wish," he said.
I smiled. "You don't have to act like a servant, Rishid," I admonished. "Come on, I can get there by myself. If you want to come with me, you can."
"Normally I would," Rishid continued, excusing my offers entirely. "However, I must wait for Master Marik and Mistress Isis." He turned back towards me, amber eyes locked onto mine, with a rather slow, calculating gaze upon them, as though he were contemplating something. Smiling his very small smile again, Rishid nudged me towards the staircase, before saying, "You look very pale, Ryou, and although you have grown very much since I've last saw you, you still need to take good care of yourself. We can't have you getting sick again and fainting again." He chuckled lightly when I blushed, exasperate that he even brought up such an embarrassing subject (for I used to frequently faint from lack of proper air down in their underground home).
"I'll be fine, Rishid," I assured, smiling.
"I'm not closing this door until I see you walking up those stairs, Master Ryou," said Rishid, bowing his head and hiding a smile. I sighed exasperatedly.
"Don't start in on that!"
"If I may daresay, Master Ryou, his master seems to take such civil servant manners much better than he used to."
I stomped my foot indignantly, knowing deep down Rishid loved it when I acted like the nine year old child he used to serve for. "Must you have a permanent track record for every time I blushed when I was living with Marik?"
"If Master Ryou excuses Rishid for such a joke," Rishid said, head still bowed, lips twitching at the corners, "but I do believe Master Marik would be more pleased if he heard that coming from your mouth when he's around."
"Oh, stop it!" I cried. "You're lucky I don't have a pillow with me right now, Rishid!"
"Master Ryou had very terrible aim that day, if I may say so," Rishid said, his tone just on the brink of a chuckle. "Have a very good sleep, Master Ryou."
I laughed. "Thank you, Rishid," I said, walking up the stairs. "It's good seeing you again."
"And I to," Rishid said, nodding. I grinned.
"I just wish I could see Malik again soon too," I said, beaming. "Oh, look finally!" I cried out triumphantly. "I got his name right." Waving goodbye, I walked up the steps of the stairs, knowing Rishid was inwardly smiling at my little joke. He had to spend endless nights to get my stubborn pronunciation right.
"Yes," Rishid said softly, as I disappeared out of sight. "Yes. We all hope we can see Master Malik again soon."
Finally managing to arrive at my dormitory, I realized that indeed, I was feeling rather faint. Perhaps my angel's lessons had pushed my energy a little too far, but it didn't matter. I liked his lessons very much so, but I had to have enough energy for my next. If only he were around, if only he were next to me, I could just wrap my arms around his neck and repeat the words "thank you" like a mantra.
Shoving the sheets to one side, I climbed into bed, eager to get a good night's sleep. It was a Saturday, and the decisions for the play would be posted the very next day. I was very glad that summer was approaching. If I practiced very hard and sang my very best, these last few months would zip by like a zephyr, and I would be free in the summer to do as I wished.
Snuggling deep into the sheets, I sighed contently, my fingers clasped around the Millennium Ring with fond affection.
Hearing my Angel's voice once more, I fell asleep, my senses lulling by his beautiful voice in heavenly notes.
"Rishid! Rishid! Help me please! Ryou! Ryou! Help me, Ryou!"
I hurried to run, hearing Malik's desperate cry. My father pursued after me, worriedly calling my name to stop. Where was he? Where was Malik? Oh gods, if Malik had to continue with this horrible initiation…
I halted when I reached a intersection of the maze, and saw two robbed figures, carrying Malik, tear-stained, down the hall. He saw me, and his eyes pleaded for me to help. I ran to him, clutching hard around his waist.
"Marik!" I cried. "I mean…Mal…Malik…"
"Ryou, help me!" he cried, as I felt his tears dampen my hair. "Ryou, please, help me!"
"I will!" I insisted, crying too. "I will, just hold on, Marik, daddy will be able to something."
"Ryou," came my father's voice, solemn and sad. I felt his hand lay on my shoulder, gently easing me away from Malik. I looked up at him, tears in my eyes.
"No, daddy!" I wailed. "We can't let them! We can't them do this to him! Please, daddy!"
"There's nothing we can do, Ryou," my father whispered softly, looking at me sadly. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do."
"Daddy, please!" I cried, clutching onto Malik harder. "Please!"
"I'm sorry, Ryou," Father whispered, squeezing my shoulder gently. "But we can't stop his father from doing this. I know it's wrong but…"
"We have to stop them!" I cried, tearing away from Malik and away from Father's grip. Driven by my desperation and fear, I began to plummet my hands against one of the robed figures. I distinctly heard my father crying out for me to stop and Malik sobbing harder, before something grabbed my hair and threw me to the ground. Something dull but heavy came crashing down my head, and I felt blood ooze down my temple.
When I had opened my eyes, Malik was looking at me with horror, tears welling in his eyes. My father as holding me protectively, as the room around us spun dizzily.
"Don't you dare do that again!" my father yelled angrily. Angrily? Father was never angry.
"You hurt Ryou!" Malik cried. "You hurt Ryou! Get away from them!"
"Sorry," muttered one of the robed figures, and without a word, they quickened their pace, with Malik swiveling around to look at me.
For a moment, his hair rose towards the heavens, and an Eye of Ra appeared on his forehead. His eyes no longer held tears; instead, they stared at me, large and wide, with worried lavender in their amethyst depths. I felt Father pick me protectively, before the room went dizzy, and then black.
Despite the fact that I was unconscious, I could still hear Malik's screams of pain.
When I woke up, I was lying on a bed. My head felt thick and dull, and it hurt to move it. Dad was sitting next to me on the bed, looking pale and worried. Poor Dad. He must've thought I was going to die. And I knew how much that would hurt him.
"Ryou," he said, looking relieved as he brushed my hair away. "How are you?"
I coughed, my head swimming, before I nodded weakly. "Where's…where's Mah..rik?"
"He's right beside you," Father assured. He laid his hand upon my own.
That's when I realized that my hand was already being held, in a small grasp of Malik's, despite the fact he was on the other bed. He was regarding me worriedly, before he squeezed my hand hard. I blinked.
"You okay?" Malik asked.
I swallowed. "Yeah…I'm fine…"
It was then I realized that Malik was different. He was calm, composed, even a little cold. His eyes sparkled slightly, giving it the appearance of amethyst jewels. His golden hair flew into the air, like a lion's mane, and upon his forehead, was a glowing Eye of Ra.
"Mah…lik…are you okay?" I cried out, tears prickling against my eyes as I gripped his hand tighter. "Oh, MahLik, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't stop them, I couldn't stop them…"
"Ryou," Marik whispered. He laid his other hand on my own, immediately calming me down. "Call me Marik."
"Mah…rik?" I repeated. "But…but…"
Marik smiled. "Just call me Marik." He looked away, before he spoke again. "I'm sorry too, Ryou. I should've stopped them from hurting you like that. You could've died."
"You could've died too!" I cried out. "Oh, Marik, it's not your fault! It's not your fault! I should've helped you, I should've been there for you and protected you and…" At this point, I began to bawl, tears streaming down my cheeks as I felt my father gently wrap his arms around my shoulders, in effort to comfort me. Crying still, I got up, wishing to be next to Marik's side, when my vision blurred, and I landed on my knees by his bedside.
Faintly, I felt his fingers brush against my bangs, wiping them away. As I continued to sob, Marik's fingers attempted to calm me down, wiping away my tears, before tucking my hair behind my ears.
"Don't cry, Ryou," Marik said. "Don't cry."
"I'm…I'm sorry," I sobbed, hiccupping. "But…but…you're hurt…you're so hurt!"
Faintly, I felt his hand sooth into my hair, before cupping my cheek. Blinking, I opened my eyes, and saw that he was smiling weakly. Gently, he dragged his hand down my cheek, before laying a finger on my lips, and whispered,
"Don't cry, Ryou," he said. "I promise I'll always protect you. If anyone ever hurts you again, they'll just have to deal with me. I promise I won't ever let anyone hurt you again. Especially not in my stead."
I shot my eyes open, blinking as my heart raced. What on earth? Why was I dreaming about my times with Marik? And why did I keep on doing it?
Bolting upright, I put a hand over my thumping heart, my head feeling strangely
dizzy. Usually my Angel was the one who visited me at night, as he did so every other night before, but this time, my dreams were filled with not my Angel in a mask , but of Marik…and why Marik?
"Ryou! Ryou!"
"What? What? Huh?" I mumbled, blinking and shaking my head. Instantly, Yugi came into view, grinning from ear to ear.
"Ryou! Oh, Ryou-kun, come! They've posted the roles!"
"What?" I cried. "Really?"
"Yes! Oh, come, Ryou-kun, you're going to be so pleased!" Yugi cried, grabbing my wrist. Ignoring the fact that I was still clad in pajamas, Yugi leapt off out of the dormitory, dragging me with him, one slipper dangling from my fleeing foot. Within a few more instant, we arrived at the doors of the auditorium, where a large group of nightgown and pajama clad students were gathered around.
Halting, I immediately felt my heart race and butterflies flitter into my stomach. What on…what on earth was it going to say? What role did I get? Did I get one at all?
Suddenly, someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned around, startled. However, I was even more surprised when I saw that it was no other than Marik standing right before me, staring down at me with his amethyst eyes. Feeling dizzy, I swayed, but was caught in time in his arms.
"Congratulations," he said, smiling, as he helped me to my feet. "I'll see you on opening night." And without further ado, Marik had captured my lips in a sweet and fast and chaste kiss.
Before I could possibly even regain my composure, Marik had left my side, and had disappeared down the corridors.
"Come on, Ryou!" Yugi called, grabbing my wrist and dragging my rather comatose state into the crowds. "Oh, come on Ryou, you must see this!"
Shaking my head to dismiss the shock I just received, I followed after Yugi, until we had wormed our way to the front of the crowd. There before me, taped to the oak doors, was a long sheet of paper, where names were listed and parts were planned.
Taking my breath, I scanned my eyes up the list, expecting my name to be with one of the more minor roles. The list went as followed:
Male Chorus of the Opera Populair:Kiechi Ayato
Gregrend Mund
Lucas Malfoi
Arthur Watts
Shigure Yohso
Taro Juko
Mako Tsunami
Mano Hierichi
YUGI MOTOU
"Oh my goodness, congratulations, Yugi!" I cried, sweeping my friend into a tight embrace. "Oh, congratulations!"
"There's more," Yugi rasped out happily, since my embrace was far too tight. "Read on."
I skipped the unimportant ones, and headed towards the main characters.
Meg Giry:Anzu (Tea Gardener)
Ubaldo Piagni:Rex Raptor
Madame Giry:Isis Ishtal
Carlotta Giudicelli:Mai Valentine
"Oh my goodness! Anzu! Isis! And Mai!" I cried out. "This is wonderful!"
"Read on!" Yugi squealed. "See what Honda and Jonouchi got!"
Laughing, I continued the list.
Monsieur Andre: Jonouchi Katsuya (Joey Wheeler)
Monsieur Firmin: Honda (Tristan Taylor)
"OH MY GOODNESS!" I cried out once more. "Andre and FIRMIN! No way!"
" I KNOW!" Yugi squealed with me. "I KNOW! That's so weird! But wait till you see YOURS, Ryou-kun!"
Giggling, I scanned my eyes back up the list, reaching towards the top. I had not seen my name yet…
Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny: Ryuijji Ootogi (Duke Devlin)
Christine Daae: Serenity Katsuya (Serenity Wheeler)
My mouth dropped open when I reached the Phantom's name. No way. No way. There was not…there was not a power in this world…no way!
Was that why Marik kissed me? Was that why he was so pleased to see me? Was that why he congratulated me, because both of us shared the love of my father's tales of the Opera Ghost?
I almost fainted.
The Phantom of the Opera: Ryou Bakura
yeaah, got confused with the english names and the japanese names, so i merged them together. there we go! all happy now!
AL is tired. (snores) Oh wait, how unladylike of me! (snores French style if thats even possible)
Surprised, anyone? look Ryou san is The Phantom of the Opera! XD