A/N: Yes! I actually got a post within a week, well, if I wasn't writing such a long final A/N then it would be a week, stupid posting after 12 am. I wasn't even trying to write fast. This chapter just came to me. I wrote it on Sunday and finished it on Monday, I think... I know it only took me two nights. Yeah...well...

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, nor James Joyce's "Ulysses."

Chapter Four:

"Yami, wake up."

Yami cracked open one eye. Instantly, the light flooded in and he groaned and turned on his side. He felt fingers poke his back.

"Come on, I want to get something to eat."

"Yugi," he mumbled into his pillow. "I don't want to get up."

"But it's already two, you won't be able to fall asleep tonight if you sleep through the day."

Yami sighed and turned back around to face his brother. Of course, Yugi was right. "Maybe I should just sleep through the day. Become nocturnal. It would be good for concerts."

Yugi laughed. "And when would you write songs and record them? You could become nocturnal, but the rest of the world would still be active during the day."

"Right, the rest of the world. I forgot about them," Yami said, smiling and looking up at Yugi.

"So are we going to get something to eat?"

"Uh huh, let me get dressed," Yami said, sitting up on his bed and rubbing his eyes.

When Yami heard Yugi close the door behind him, Yami flung his body back on the bed. His eyes roamed over to his clock on the nightstand. It really was almost two. Why was he so tired? It wasn't unusual for Yami to stay up until one a.m. or even later, being as it was that he worked as a bartender in a hotel. Well, not anymore. Guess it's not everyday I go perform a whole concert in front of thousands of people, he thought.

Yami sighed and got up again. Yugi was probably waiting for him, and now that he thought about it, he was rather hungry.

Yami stretched as he walked toward the armoire, cracking his neck in the process. He never really was one to put much effort into dressing when he was just going to walk around in public, so he pulled out the first thing his hands grabbed onto. That happened to be a pair of faded blue jeans that were ripped quite thoroughly on the right knee and in various other areas to a lesser degree, and what used to be a black Ramones shirt. With constant use and a bad painting experience, it had morphed into a gray color with white paint splatter all over it. It was still one of Yami's favorite shirts, so until it was unrecognizable as a shirt, he was going to continue to wear it. Lazily, Yami pulled on the shirt and walked back over to his nightstand to pick up his thin, silver thumb ring.

"Yami," he heard Yugi call. "Hurry up."

Yami shook his head. "I'm coming," he called back.

Walking down the hallway, he heard their TV blasting. It was only made louder by the fact that the ceiling of their studio was at least forty feet high. Oddly enough, the studio had been divided into four bedrooms by the previous owner, so Yami, Yugi, and Jou all had their own bedrooms. There were three on the bottom, and a large master bedroom above those that had been outfitted to be a recording studio. The living space was just that, space. There was a section of the space dedicated to TV, another to a dining table, and then another to the kitchen, but it was all in the same room.

Yami didn't see Yugi anywhere, but he did see a familiar blond sitting on the couch. "Hey Jou, you're up this early?"

"It's almost two," Jou said, checking his watch. "'Course I'm up."

Yami heard a bag of chips being disturbed and smiled to himself. "And you're watching TV and eating," Yami said. "Are you going to lunch with Yugi and me?"

"Nah, I think I'll just stay here," he replied.

Yami shrugged and walked over to where they kept their shoes. To keep in line with the outfit he had picked out, he chose to wear his black, Converse Hi-Tops. He had only tied one when Yugi appeared out of nowhere.

"So where are we heading, Yugi?" Yami asked.

"I was thinking we could go get burritos," Yugi said.

Yami nodded. Close, quick, and delicious. Right around the corner to their building was a small Mexican restaurant that had yet to be discovered, and Yami hopped it would never change, because when places like that get bought out, they're almost never the same, and they were never better.

Yami stood up and lifted the grate to the elevator. He let Yugi go in and then turned around. "We'll be back in forty five minutes," he informed.

"'Kay, bye," Jou waved without turning his head away from the TV.

The elevator was easily the oldest one in all of LA, it was large and not completely enclosed from the elevator shaft. Anyone could stick a hand out and feel the walls running past. It was nearly impossible to hold on a conversation when in the elevator, since it would require a voice of unreasonable strength to be able get one's point across.

Yami lifted the grate on the ground floor and walked out, holding it up for Yugi to get out. They walked past the attendant's office, which was currently unoccupied, and out onto the street. It was a brisk, August day, overcast, but not threatening rain.

"So, Yami," Yugi started, walking down the street.

"Yeah?" Yami responded.

"What really happened last night?" Yugi looked questioningly at Yami.

"I went to a concert. My concert. I think it turned out good, though we totally messed up in the middle of that one song, I don't think anyone noticed," Yami reminisced.

"Yami," Yugi said. "You know what I mean."

Yami ignored the question, and stopped at the restaurant. "Here we are," he said. Yugi gave him a funny look, but opened the door and walked in, followed by Yami. The interior of the restaurant was much warmer than outside, and decorated with a faux-stucco tan paint and papier-mâché vegetables.

They walked up to the counter and ordered what they wanted, having been here so many times before they didn't even have to peruse the menu. The waitress behind the counter gave them a number when Yami paid and they went to a window table to sit down.

Yami was looking outside, at the passing people, when he looked over and saw Yugi staring at him expectantly.

Knowing what Yugi wanted, Yami sighed. "Fine. There's not much to say, I don't think we passed more than a couple of sentences to each other. But the point is, Kaiba is a rude, self-centered ass who thinks only of himself."

"Maybe he was just having a bad day," Yugi started. "As you said, you didn't even speak to him that much."

"That might be part of it," Yami admitted. "But I think that's just the way he is."

Yugi sighed and played with the straw in his soda. "Alright," he said, looking back up. "Hey, Yami..."

"What?"

Yugi reached over the table and took Yami by the bangs. "I think we need to dye your roots again. How come your hair grows so much faster than mine?"

----

There on Seto's nightstand sat a digital clock. It's ominous red numbers steadily counted down the hours, minutes, seconds of all life. It read 7.29. The absence of the little dot in the upper left hand corner indicated it was in the morning. On the bed next to the nightstand, Seto slept sprawled out on his bed, his covers mismatched on his body. He had tossed and turned all night, consciousness flowing through him and then retreating again like the tides of the ocean. Finally, a deep, black sleep descended and left him immobilized for the better part of an hour. But Seto was amazingly punctual. The moment the clock changed to 7.30, his eyes slowly opened, just as if he had been fully asleep the entire night.

His head ached from lack of sleep, but he got up anyway, knowing it would be useless to try and get back to sleep. Once he was awake, he was awake. There were no naps, and if he tried, he would lay there thinking about what he could be doing in work. It was absolutely pointless to try.

Standing up, Seto walked over to his closet and picked something out to wear. Simple, black slacks and a black shirt; he could be casual, it was Saturday after all. He went to his bathroom and combed his hair before heading downstairs to see if Mokuba had woken up yet.

Walking down the hall towards the kitchen, he picked up the scent of blueberry pancakes. That was one of the things he had first taught Mokuba to make, because pancakes were quick and easy, and Mokuba loved them.

"Good morning, Mokuba," Seto said as he walked into the kitchen. Mokuba was sitting in the breakfast nook, eating the pancakes with one hand and holding up a novel with the other.

But when greeted by his brother, he put the book down and twisted around. "Morning. You're up late, I was starting to get worried," Mokuba said with a smile.

Seto walked to the counter and pulled out the coffee maker. "I didn't have the best night. How did you sleep?"

"Can't complain. I got something to eat and then went to bed. Fell asleep almost instantly, but I was still a little hyped from that concert," Mokuba replied. "So I started reading this again." Mokuba held up the book for Seto to see the cover. Bold, black letters read "Ulysses." Mokuba had already read the James Joyce novel a couple of times before, but not for a long time.

Seto nodded as he registered the book, and began pouring water into the maker and putting the coffee grounds in the filter. When the pot was bubbling and sizzling, he went and sat down across from his brother.

Mokuba looked at him. "You can eat some pancakes if you want, I made plenty," he said.

"I'm not very hungry," Seto replied. Mokuba nodded and returned to his book. After a while, Mokuba stopped and had a look of confusion.

"So why didn't you sleep well last night?" Mokuba asked.

"No reason," he said, but the moment he said that a pair of deep red eyes flashed in his mind. He quickly dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Just a little bit of insomnia."

"You really should take a break from work. The stress is slowly killing you," Mokuba stated.

"No, I'm fine," Seto said.

"I don't think you've had a vacation, or even a three-day weekend, in the year since you took over," Mokuba said, ignoring Seto's statement. "And before then, you were in college, which you worked just as diligently on. I think it's time you gave yourself a little bit of a rest."

Seto put his head in his hands and sighed. He couldn't take a break, and even if he did, what would he do? Probably sit around the house and secretly work from home when Mokuba wasn't watching. A deep throb emanated from his core, and he felt even worse. Maybe he would take a couple of those pancakes.

His coffee pot gave one last moan and stopped bubbling, whereupon he walked over and poured himself a large cup. In the process, he took out a plate and fork, and carried all that back over to the table.

"So you are gonna eat," Mokuba perked up. "Can we do something later today? Like see a movie?"

"Sure," Seto relented, feeling bad about how he had treated Mokuba the night before.

"Great, I'll go check times." In a flash, Mokuba was out of the kitchen and Seto heard the sounds of rapid typing coming from the livingroom.

----

Yami impatiently tapped his foot on the floor of the elevator. Yugi stood beside him, not letting his nervous brother get to him. While in the restaurant, and luckily after they had finished eating, Yami and Yugi got back on the topic of the concert, and Seto and Mokuba Kaiba. They were having a nice conversation, but suddenly Yami stopped mid-sentence and stared into space, wide-eyed. Yugi had seen this expression countless times before and knew that Yami had gotten some type of inspiration for another song. Soon, Yami was frantically looking for a pen, but finding that he had left his notebook and pen at home, he stood up and without waiting for Yugi, almost ran back to the apartment.

That led them to the elevator. Normally, the ride was short, but at that moment, to Yami, it felt like a lifetime. He kept repeating the verses he had written in his head over and over again, so he wouldn't forget them. He wasn't likely to forget them anyway, he had a good memory when it came to things like this, but it still worried him that he could lose track of these thoughts and then come up with a half finished song and no inspiration to help him finish the rest.

Yami drummed his fingers on his thighs, and started to look around. He should've just taken the stairs like he had originally wanted to do. Yugi talked him out of it, saying that in the end he would have taken more time and then would've been tired afterward.

Finally, they got to the top level, why did they have to live so far up? Yami pulled the grate up and ran into his bedroom. Yugi stared after him, and walked over to the couch, where Jou was still sitting, but instead of watching the TV, he was on his laptop. Yugi sat down next to him.

"What's up with Yami?" Jou asked.

"He just got an idea for a song, but no where to write it down," Yugi said.

"Ah."

"What's that?" Yugi pointed to the screen. It looked like an email, and the thing that caught Yugi's eye was that it had the Twister logo on it.

"I think we all got one, it says we should come in for a meeting on Monday," Jou explained.

Yami came back out, holding a tattered, clothbound journal and furiously scribbling in it's pages. He walked with his head down, focused on the page in front of him, and magically made it to the couch without tripping. He exhaled when he closed the book, and looked up to see what Yugi was reading on the computer.

"Hey, Yami, you should check your email too, see if you got one," Yugi said.

"'Got one' what?" Yami asked, while taking the laptop from Yugi.

"An email from Twister," Yugi replied.

Yami signed onto his email account, and did indeed find that he had one email. He opened it.

"Yep, it's the same as Jou's," Yugi said.

Yami read the email. Congratulations on your first concert...blah blah blah...meeting on Monday, to discuss the potential for the entire band. Yami nodded, that sounded like a positive email, and he already knew where the band was going to go from there. They had discussed it long before they had even gotten signed on, so they were ready.

A/N: Okay, now I'm done with the hard parts. When I get a really good idea for a fic, for some reason I write the very first chapter and the very last chapters in my head, all the ones in the middle kinda get chopped out, which leaves me scrambling for plot to fill those parts up. Luckily, for whom I cannot say, I have this fic planned out in my head, so it shouldn't be long in between updates. I don't think I'll get to posting by next week with another chapter though, because all of next week is the dreaded finals. But, I have this all planned, it will be done. Oh yeah, and I'm thinking it'll be about eight chapters total, that may or may not be with a sequel. We'll just have to see how it goes. Review please.

Oh, and one more thing, I have yet another idea. I will most likely write it regardless, but it would be sweet to know what people thought of it, or if it's already been done. I'm still a little shaky on who's POV to write it in, though I'm leaning toward Yami. If I go that route, it starts out with him in the San Francisco Bay near Alcatraz, floating on a piece of drift wood. He gets picked up by Seto, who is at a yacht party, and has no recollection of his past, until he is taken for a tour of San Francisco and then he remembers being in a post-apocalyptic San Francisco. Then, just to throw in a couple more twists, assassins come after him. Hope that gave some kind of clue as to what I intend to write, and I'm gonna try and make it cool-sci-fi-ish, since I've been reading a lot of Philip K. Dick lately. I have this one planned out fully in my head, actually, maybe only the beginning and end. Hehehehehehe.