Boring chapter, but I'm trying to think of anything else I have to get rid off before some music comes into play.

Btw, I have no idea if what Kaiba says in French is accurate. I hada 75 percent in french, so forgive me for my terrible grammar.

The part where Ryou's Angel gets mad at him...oi, Phantom fans! Does it not sound familiar when Erik first left Christine? XDD

Eyuch. Hated this chapter. Mano reminded me of Gaston, and I burst out in laughter. I only updated today cause someone on my Hui Xie account told me to. XDD

READ AND REVIEW! If I don't forget anything else, the next chapter will have some music in it. Which ones? "Angel of Music." And the chapter after that? "The Mirror" and "Phantom of the Opera"!

Chapter Five: Angel Abandonment

"Tan, tan tan tan…those who tangle with Don Juan!"

"Non, non, non," ushered Madame Giry, waving her hands delicately in front of Rex's face. "Non no, it's, 'those who tangle with Don JUAN…'"

"What difference does it make?" Rex asked, annoyed. "Piangi's supposed to suck."

Madame Giry paused for a moment, before looking thoughtful.

"True," she admitted, before walking off the stage. Stopping short at the sets, she looked up towards the ceiling, where black metal rails were, so that the chandelier could be in easy reach, where I was sitting. "Monsieur Bakura!"

Sighing, I looked down from my seat on the metal railing, smiling at her below me. "Oui, Madame Giry?"

She smiled at my attempt at French. "Remember, Ryou…it's ze steps on stage right zat you take to come down for ze Don Juan scene…not ze othair."

"I know," I said, nodding vigorously.

"And ze othair on the othair side," she continued, "lead to ze balcony on ze outside of ze building. Ze fire escape is on stage left!"

"Got it," I replied, shooting her a thumbs-up. She replied with a wide smile.

"You will make us proud, Monsieur Bakura," she said sincerely. "I know you will."

And she left, black skirt swishing gracefully from side to side behind her.

I sighed dreamily, still quite still in disbelief that I had managed to get into the play. Oh, how wonderful did it feel, singing among those who loved to sing with me, who appreciated my voice, who waved at me and punched me lightly in the shoulders.

And my Angel. Oh, my Angel. How he visited me the days and nights following, his voice whispering into my ears, his masked face and long white hair materializing before me in my dreams. As each night passed, my longing to see him again increased, and often, I would find myself wishing and thinking of ways to prolong my lessons with him. Now he had gone from self-confidence boosting to self-defense, something that I prided myself in.

Granted, sometimes when he attacked, so I could learn first hand, I'd receive injuries from either being too slow or too clumsy, but after the lesson, he'd sit next to me in that fire-lit room, and bandage my wounds, holding my wrists with such gentle softness. After that, sometimes we'd engage in conversations, and it was during those times that I loved him the most…

It was also during those times had I noticed his demeanor altered slightly when he was more relaxed. When he was not teaching, he was so much softer, gentler, and much more serene. It was during these valuable moments together that I found out a little more about him. Yet, his change in attitude did not deter me from loving him so.

I would've given him anything. Anything at all. He had done so much for me, and yet I had nothing to give him in return. I would've given him anything he wished, anything he asked, if only he would promise me to stay by my side forever.

I would give him anything…

"Ryou," my Angel spoke, his voice soft and crisp. "You are bleeding."

Smiling weakly, I grabbed my hand in futile attempt to hide the blood that was slowly oozing out of a bruise. Knowing that it had not much affect, I decided to hide it behind my back, lowering my eyes towards the ground.

"It is nothing, Angel."

He stepped towards me, his black cloak swishing behind him. Distinctly, I found myself staring rather intently on the bloodstains that speckled the carpet…was I really bleeding that badly? Had my coordination been that terrible?

Softly, my Angel slipped a single, gloved finger beneath my chin, and directed my eyes into his.

Such dark mysterious eyes! A deep, rich brown that glittered crimson against the roaring fire beside us. His eyes were so deep, so mesmerizing, that I could almost feel them piercing through me, analyzing me, while I merely stood there, immobilized and utterly captivated.

"You are hurt," he said simply, dropping his hand to his side. "Forgive me."

I hastily shook my head. "No no…it's fine, Angel, truly. It's my fault, I wasn't fast enough."

Yet, he did not reply, merely gently taking my hand from behind my back, and slowly making way towards the crimson, plush recliner on the side of the room. I stared at him curiously, but he heeded me no attention.

The room with the fire had been the only room I was ever in. Often before, he spoke of a labyrinth beyond the wooden door that was always closed. Though he told me I was free to wander about and take a look, after one peek from the door I had decided not to do it again.

It was so boring, after all. It was an empty labyrinth. And while I was assured that there were more than just empty air between the dark corridors, I had dared not venture forth, afraid that I'd be separated from my Angel and be lost forever.

"Sit," he said simply, and I obeyed, the cushioned material squeaking beneath me.

Without another word, my Angel had pulled out a roll of gauze from beneath the couch, and unrolled it. Placing the rolled portion in the recliner, he proceeded to gently wrap my bloody arm with the white material. As he worked silently on one knee before me, my hand couldn't help but lay upon the upright one.

He blinked momentarily, as I had never touched him before. Blushing, I turned away, holding out my arm limply and obediently, hoping that my cheeks weren't as red as they felt.

"Congratulations, by the way," my Angel spoke up. His voice had always been soft, and slightly cool and crisp, like lake water against an autumn day.

I blinked. "On what, Angel?"

He looked up at my briefly, shielded by his white bangs. He turned back to his work.

"On the audition, of course. I am proud that you made it."

My heart elevated. "Really?" I asked, my eyes wide from his praise.

He nodded, barely looking at me, almost finishing aiding my wound.

I smiled shakily, unable to quite describe the joy I had of him being so proud of me.

Granted, he probably wasn't 'so proud', but just hearing such words made my heart fly on white wings.

"T-Thank you, Angel," I mumbled, still in a trance. "I am honoured that you feel that way."

He slowly stood up, brushing his gloved hands against his thighs, as though dusting off invisible grim from his pants. Putting the gauze away, he finally looked at me, and reached out to feel my hair.

"And I am honoured you feel pleased, Little Ryou," he said softly.

I couldn't help but smile. As his gloved hands made move to sweep my locks away, they dropped abruptly to his sides, as though he dared not to touch me.

Blushing somewhat and looking away, I shifted my gaze to the floor, feeling rather awkward.

"Aah…Angel…"

"Sing."

I looked up at him abruptly, my eyes a little wide at such a quick request.

"Ahh…excuse me?"

He looked at me again, before sitting down against on edge of the recliner. "Sing."

I blinked at him again, before I slowly broke out into a grin.

And sang.

"It is the patron!"

Suddenly, I jolted out of my trance again, almost falling off the metal railing. Heart beating rapidly, I hurried down one of the steps, meeting with the rear of a rather large crowd of the cast members.

"Monsieur Kaiba, we are glad for you to have finally joined us," Madame Giry greeted, curtsying.

I craned my neck, then sighed exasperatedly. Shaking my head at my ignorance, I ran back up the steps and began to lean over the side of the metal railing again. I cocked an eyebrow at the sight.

"We cannot express our gratitude, Monsieur Kaiba," Madame Giry said again, curtsying so. "With ze donations of ze deceased Monsieur Bakura and Monsieur Ishtal, I could not have believed that even you would donate…"

"I have always been a patron of the arts," said Kaiba crisply.

I looked down inquiringly. Indeed, this was a man I had never seen before. There were rumors that he had once attended this very school a few years ago, and that he had always been at least three years ahead. Could it be the infamous Seto Kaiba?

If it were so, then the school would be very honoured to have Seto come back and donate such a large sum of money. Seto Kaiba had made quite a name for himself out of school. A CEO for his own company and the monarch of stocks, he had almost been sued last year for having a monopoly of high-class technology toys.

Kaiba looked about, his dark hair in his piercing eyes, as he surveyed his surroundings. For some secret reason, I was glad that I was so high above…I would hate to have those intimidating eyes at me.

"Intriguing," Kaiba said expressionlessly. He turned back to Madame Giry. "And when will the theatre be opening for the production?"

"In three weeks' time, Monsieur Kaiba," Madame Giry said promptly. "Will you be attending?"

He gave her a small smirk.

"Oui, Madame Giry. Je dois regarde le 'Phantome de Opera."

I could've sighed out loud right then and there. I never liked French very much.

However, Madame Giry was ecstatic about it.

"Of course you must watch, Monsieur Kaiba!" she exclaimed. "We 'ave ze best Phantom in ze school, Monsieur Kaiba. I take it that you 'ave 'eard of Monsieur Bakura's son, ze young Ryou Bakura?"

Kaiba shook his head. "I have not, Madame. But indeed, I will find out for myself. No sense in spoiling the surprise."

Madame Giry laughed. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Very."

Without another word, the infamous CEO turned about, heading his way out. As he passed, white leather jacket billowing behind him, Mai swayed her hips suggestively, her feathered hat just tickling the bangs of Kaiba's hair. He gave her a look, and then promptly left.

Rehearsal had ended, and, as usual, I took refuge in the museum.

Madame Giry had given me permission for any future needs, and all the teachers already knew of my reputation to know I was allowed in there unsupervised. And for that, I was very glad. I never liked examining things so intently with others around me.

"How was rehearsal?" asked Rishid as he came up behind me. His facial expression was the usual: blank, expressionless and perhaps even stony. But I could see that his eyes were warm, and that he was genuinely interested for my well-being.

"Good, good," I said, nodding happily. I sighed wistfully, my eyes wandering about. They finally came to a rest upon the ancient parchment in the glass case. "Rishid…who wrote this?" I asked, pointing to it.

Barely even blinking, Rishid leaned over my shoulder. Taking merely one look, he shook his head, and turned away.

"I believe it is part of a myth, Master Ryou," Rishid said simply. "It is rumored that the ancient Thief King was once a servant at the palace of the Pharaoh, but was disgraced because of his appearance. Beyond that, I am not sure of the tale."

"I knew that," I said. "And then he befriended someone, didn't he? It's just that…" I frowned, struggling to remember whom the bandit had fallen in love with. There were so many variations my father had told me. A princess, a servant, a slave…

Abruptly, Rishid took my arm, and led me towards the doors. Startled out of my thoughts, I looked back at him, blinking to show my confusion.

"It is time for bed, Master Ryou," Rishid said simply. "You have had a long day, and I do believe you should rest your wound."

Blushing, I quickly hid my bandaged hand into my pocket. "Really, it's nothing, Rishid," I assured. "It's just a small cut."

Rishid's face was grave. "Are you sure, Master Ryou? Perhaps I ought to accompany you to your room…"

"No, it's perfectly fine," I insisted. Rishid sighed.

"Alright then. But Little Ryou, if there is any trouble at all, do not hesitate to come alright?"

I blinked. Rishid hardly ever called me "Little Ryou" unless it was something personal. My silent question was answered when Rishid gave me a pointed look.

"Do you remember the last time that bullies had picked on you?"

Inwardly, I winced. Yes. I did remember. I remembered how I lay in the sand, crying because Amane had died, crying because I was alone. How Marik saved me from the teenaged boys who wanted to throw me into the Nile.

Yes, I remembered.

I lay crying upon the sand, tears spilling from my squeezed eyelids as I clutched my scarf madly to my chest. Amane was dead…she was dead! This was not possible! First Mother, then Amane…!

Wailing, I slumped against the ground, happy for the isolation of the Egyptian desert. There was no one there to bother me, to mock me, and ironically, no one to comfort me.

My father was still down in the labyrinth, having no idea that I had run away. Marik had been asleep in bed. The Ishtal father had died…Marik had killed him a few months before in attempt to save me. Such an act had brought families against the Ishtal clan, and many eyes had sent me deadly looks since then.

To them, I was an omen. A symbol of misfortune.

Thinking about Marik made me wail again. More tears cascaded down my face, soaking the sand as I huddled to myself, clutching the scarf that Mother had made for me so long ago.

"Aw, does the little baby need his mommy?"

Blinking, I opened my eyes, and to my horror, seven teenaged boys cowered above me. The sun behind them sent frightening shadows across their dirty faces, making it very difficult to tell from one brown boy to the other. Each of them was caked with mud and sand.

One of them leered at me, and cracked his knuckles threateningly. "Has little baby been bad and needs his mommy?"

Another leered the same way, before kicking me sharply in the back. "Has little baby been bad and needs a spanking?"

I whimpered, partly in fear and partly because my spine was stinging badly. Without any warning, two of them had grabbed my wrists and held me high, dangling me above the ground. Crying out, I thrashed and thrashed, screaming for anyone to help.

No one came.

Eyes flashing with hate and treacherous smirk in place, the tallest one of the boys advanced upon me. After one moment of his amber eyes, his hand swiped out, and wrenched my scarf away from me. More tears pooled down my cheeks and I struggled to get to my scarf. It was the only possession I had of my mother left, and I could not let them tear it away from me!

"No! No, please!" I cried out. "Please give that back to me!"

"Hmn, let me think," the tallest one hummed thoughtfully, as he waved the scarf about. "…No."

"Please!" I cried. "Please give it back to me! I'll do anything!"

The tallest one raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Anything?"

I sobbed. "Yes! Please, just give it back!"
The tallest boy smirked. "Very well." He snapped his fingers.

Instantly, I was thrown to the ground, and without any further ado, feet and fists massacred my sides and stomach. I cried out in agony and attempted to curl back into my defensive ball, but the seven teens merely stepped on my wrists and ankles, keeping me flat on my back.

Many hands whipped my head back and forth, and my cheeks were bleeding from their rough treatment. More feet stabbed themselves into my ribs, and even more fists planted themselves onto my stomach. A sharp pain in the head told me that someone had stabbed their foot there, and warm, sticky liquid began to dribble into my hair.

"Little bitch," one snapped. "Go back from where you came from!"

"Yeah, we don't want you here, little baby!"

"Get out of here! You ruined the Ishtal clan, you little demon child bastard!"

More verbal abuse assaulted my ears, and I could do nothing as they beat me further into unconsciousness. More so, my heart ached even more to hear that I had hurt Marik in any way.

A ripping noise startled me, and I stared in utter shock as the tallest boy planted his heel into my stomach, and held the bloody scarf above my head. Slowly, tauntingly, he began to rip it. I stared in horror as I watched the little seam rip and break apart, a small river against my precious scarf…

"NO! NO PLEASE!" I screamed. "No! Please! DON'T RIP IT!"

"Fine then," the tallest boy sneered. "I'll just put it here then…" Deceivingly gentle, he began to wrap the scarf around my throat, tying it lightly into a knot. I sobbed again, but was thankful that he had given back my scarf.

That is, until my windpipe began to close, and I realized distinctly that he was choking me with my very own scarf!

"No! Please! Let go!" I cried, but my plead only came out as a choked croak. "Please! Pleas let me go!"

"No one will miss you," my attacker sneered idly. "You're just this little English boy. Who'd miss you? Not Marik."

This thought only made me sob harder, though my vision began to blur. Blood surged to my head, causing me to feel dizzy, despite the fact I was immobile on the ground. My breath was stopped short, and I desperately attempted to untie my scarf that he was pulling on, but to no avail. My hands were still beneath the feet of my other six attackers.

Just when my face felt as though it was about to combust, when someone yelled, "GET OFF OF HIM!"

Suddenly, my throat cleared and the pressure upon my ankles and hands were lifted.

I could hardly remember what happened then. My vision kept on blurring out on me, and it was very difficult to breathe. My cheeks felt so swollen, and my hands and ankles seemed to lack blood. My lips felt bruised and puffy, and my ribs and stomach were throbbing hard.

Distinctly, I felt blood splatter upon me, little flecks of crimson, before all was silent. Within moments, Marik's concerned face appeared before me.

"Ryou! Ryou, are you alright?"

Within a haze, I felt him gently lift me into his arms, his amethyst eyes shining so with worry. His hands were wet and sticky and warm, but I wasn't sure with what, until I opened my eyes fully and saw the red smears on his face.

Blood.

I merely whimpered, but he understood. Gently, he hugged me close to him, and carried me back to the underground labyrinth that I had learned to call my home.

I shuddered. Yes, indeed I remembered that day. How after I had awoken, my father had told me that Marik was under questioning for killing one of the boys, and putting the other six in a coma or a concussion. How my stomach twisted at the idea that Marik would leave me forever, and how my heart was lifted, despite my battered chest, when he came back and said everything was okay.

I could see why Rishid was worried about my well-being, especially with Marik, full-grown and one of the strongest people I knew alive. He'd be furious if he found out I was still being picked on. He'd even kill Hirutami if he had the chance….

At that moment, I was so glad that my Angel had been teaching me to defend for myself. I didn't want Marik to go on any more homicides for my sake.

"I'm fine, Rishid," I assured seriously. "I have been taking lessons, and I know how to defend myself."

"You sure?" Rishid asked, his amber eyes watching me intently.

Smiling, I positioned myself and raised my fists. "Go on. Throw a punch."

His eyes widened, before one eyebrow was lowered with uneasy apprehension. "Uh…Master Ryou, are you sure?"

I smiled. "Of course! Come on! I won't be hurt! Just throw a punch."

Glancing at my determined look, Rishid hesitantly raised a hand, and blindly threw it at me.

Immediately, my newly developed reflexes kicked in, and I smoothly grabbed his wrist. Another swift maneuver, and his arm was behind his back, held there at a painful angle. He gave out a little gasp of surprise and I released my grip. Turning back, he blinked at me in surprise, one had rubbing his wrist, before he broke out into a smile.

"You have been learning, Master Ryou," he said, grinning ruefully. "Let's just hope I won't be his master's punching bag from now on."

My face took place with aghast. "Of course not!"

Rishid laughed. "I know. You may have gotten stronger, Little Ryou, but your heart is still as soft as it ever was." He smiled and slapped my back. "Okay. Now this means I can go to bed early without having to escort you."

I laughed as well, and gave him a playful push towards the side museum door.

"Oh, go home, Rishid. Stop teasing me," I laughed. He snickered.

"Will his master's aim be better as well?"

"RISHID!"

After a few more teases and even a few more light punches, Rishid had finally ushered me out of the museum. Night had fallen, and the corridors were empty and dark. The tiles were cold and crisp, that with every step I took, my footsteps echoed against the walls.

I had not even come close to the grand stairway, when someone crashed into me, and clamped a hand over my mouth. Terrified, I opened them, and was even more petrified when I saw black pools staring back.

Mano.

Such a ruthless man. He was known to tough, the kind of guy to slink through alleyways and break a nose with just a finger. His slick black hair was pulled into a ponytail at the back, hanging off his leather jacket. His cheekbones were high and his figure was manly: strong, hard, and tough.

"Uh…hi, Mano," I said shakily, attempting at a smile. "Is there something you need?"

He glared at me, before pushing me hard into the wall. I squeaked, but immediately felt ashamed that I had shown weakness. I needed more practice with my Angel.

"You," Mano hissed. "You sneaky little… how could a little twerp like you end up with the role of Phantom?"

I blinked. Was Mano my understudy? Oh yes. Just like Mai was with Serenity.

Oh boy.

"I-I don't know," I stuttered. "Really, I don't."

Mano made a face, before harshly pushing me into the wall, and then straightening. He glared at me for a couple of moments, before he turned away and headed down a corridor.

"Take this as a warning, Bakura," he hissed. "Mai was supposed to be Christine. I was supposed to be Phantom. I have high guys in high places, Bakura. You don't want to mess with them."

I swallowed, but nodded hastily.

"Be sick on opening night," he snapped. "You're a good actor. Be sick, or else I'll make you sick."

He walked on for a few more moments, before stopping at a corner. Turning back slowly, he sneered at me arrogantly, tossing his slick black hair over his shoulder. I swallowed.

"Break a leg," he smirked.

Moments later, I managed to return to my corridor. Mano had frightened me terribly. The boy was so huge! It was possible to fit three of me into his chest! I winced at the thought of his fists cracking into me. I didn't even think my Angel could save me from him.

"Ryou."

Hearing my name, I jumped and looked back, frantically wondering if it was another attacker. To my relief, and to my joy, it was Marik, standing by the corner of the corridor.

I smiled. "Marik! Hi! It's been so long since I've seen you! I've missed you!"

A faintest trace of a smile hinted on Marik's expression, as he began to stride forwards. " Have you?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Grinning, I leapt into the air. Expecting this, Marik instantly wrapped his arms around my waist, and began to spin me like he did when I was younger. This time, a true smile lit up on his face, as he twirled me through the air, only ceasing when I ran out of breath from laughter.

I grinned up at him, and threw my arms around his neck. "I'm so glad you came back!"

Marik smirked, one arm wound around my waist. "Do you want to go out for a coffee?" he asked. His smirk widened, and he nuzzled my nose. "Or in your case…hot chocolate?"

"And a frappacino if I'm daring," I giggled. I was about to open my mouth to say yes…when…

"Leave him be," my Angel hissed. "Are you willing to break your vow, Little Ryou?"

Instantly, my eyes widened, and, with fear of losing my Angel, I quickly jumped out of Marik's embrace.

"Oh, n-no, I can't…" I stuttered, in desperate avail to beg my Angel's forgiveness.

Marik raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

I shook my head. "I-I can't…it's..it's…" My mind reeled frantically with desperate ideas. "It's too late!" I said quickly. "We have curfews, and I already broke one a few weeks ago, and I really don't want to break another one again." I took a deep breath. That should do.

Marik continued giving me his scrupulous look. "You broke a curfew?" he asked in disbelief. He smirked again, wrapping both his arms around me. "Sweet Little Ryou, a good little boy, broke a curfew by going out at night? My, how much you've changed!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Marik! That's not it!" When my laughter trailed off, I my gaze shifted away from him, staring at the floor. I didn't want Marik to go…but if it was needed for my Angel to stay…

"Marik…you should go," I said weakly. "If the teachers catch me like this, I'm bound to be in trouble."

Marik's smirk turned into a wryly smile. "So my Little Ryou hasn't changed much at all. Very well then." At this, Marik straightened confidently, and raised my chin up towards his face. Though despite my promise to my Angel, my heart began to quicken, beating rapidly against my ribcage as Marik's breath swept across my lips. "Give me a good night kiss, then?" he asked softly.

Oh those eyes…those beautiful eyes….so captivating and so full of adoration and love…my father used to call us childhood sweethearts. Would we ever be so like that again?

For a fleeting moment, I wanted that kiss more badly than I wanted my Angel.

Yet, I opened my mouth to protest; remembering my Angel's words. I would have to keep my promise to him.

"M-Marik…I…"

But Marik cut me off first.

Half my heart lifted with absolute joy and excitement, as his lips brushed against mine and clasped over my own. Yet, the other half of my heart tore and broke apart in a mad frenzy to get him away. My Angel would be furious!

Halfway through the kiss, I broke it off as fast as I could, stumbling towards the door.

"N-no…no…Marik, I have to go!"

He gave me a look of confusion and alarm. "Ryou?" he asked, as I managed to fumble around with the handle and open the entrance. I hurriedly ran in, stopping only to give Marik a fake, cheerful smile.

"Goodnight!" I called, and quickly shut my door.

Shaking terribly, I slid down from the door and onto the carpet. What would my Angel say? I didn't mean to! I had tried so vainfully to control myself, but I hadn't done it on purpose!

Shivers ransacked my spine as I could almost feel my Angel's presence above me. Another moment passed, before his voice filled the room, loud and chamberous, cold and hissing.

"You broke your vow, Little Ryou…"

Scrambling to my feet, I fell to my knees, clasping my hands together in prayer.

"No, Angel! Please! Don't leave me! I promise I will never do such a thing again!"

Tears started to run down my cheeks. The fear of my Angel abandoning me was too much! I'd be alone again!

"No, Angel! Please! I beg of you! Don't leave me! I love you!"

Silence filtered into my room, and I prayed hard on bended knees for him not to forsake me. The tears would not cease; continuing to dribble down my cheeks and onto the carpet of my dormitory.

"Please, Angel…" I whispered. "Don't leave me…I love you…"

Another silence slithered by, before my Angel finally spoke. This time, his voice was cold and hard, biting and cruel.

"I shall think about it. Go to sleep, Ryou."

Choking back a sob, I scrambled obediently to my bed. My shoulder shook with sobs as I realized that this had been the first night he had not called me, 'Little Ryou.' Sobbing quietly, I determinedly brushed away my tears. My Angel did not like to see me cry. Determined to be strong and wait for my Angel's judgment, I folded the covers above myself.

That night, I slept in utter agony. He did not appear to me in my dreams, and the Sennen Ring did not glow comfortingly in the darkness.

My Angel did not sing me to sleep.

T.T Can you guys guess who the Angel is now? I think I've made it quite clear. (Is proud) Can't wait for the next chapter. Finally, some music!