A/N: I am so sorry for the late update! Life has been crazy. I have to have surgery (supposedly the mildest, most minute type of invasive surgery, but still) on Thursday, so I really wanted to get this chapter up before hand. I don't know what I will be like afterwards and my mother refuses to let me bring in my computer to write this, so…

I apologize for any spelling errors/grammatical errors. I blame the pain, the pain drugs, and a lack of sleep, but, like I said, I wanted this up before surgery. Now, off to fix a really bad error in chapter four (that I don't think anybody noticed). Enjoy chapter five!

Chapter 5: The Week Before School

In the next few days as Kaiba's businessmen prepared the necessary information for Atem and Yami Bakura to integrate with society, Yugi and Ryou set out to pick up a couple sets of uniforms and textbooks for the two. At Ryou's suggestion, the group of four detoured to the library after the school store to add some books on basic (and, Ryou reasoned, so common place, he or Yugi might forget to mention) information about society. Ryou knew Yami Bakura, at least, could speak and write fluent Japanese from his time in the Millennium Ring. This proved true with Atem also, because, even though he wasn't connected with Yugi for more than a year, he had picked up Japanese from the first time the Puzzle pieces heard Solomon Mouto's and Professor Hawkins' voices.

After hearing about Yugi's partner nearly blowing up the kitchen in his process of making toast, Ryou and Yugi, amidst peals of laughter, decided an introductory crash course would be essential. "We should probably refer to you guys by your aliases, so you don't forget at school," Yugi offered on their trip back from the library. Ryou secretly cheered that Yugi had brought up that fact. He did not want to deal with Yami Bakura's resentment at being referred to as a Mouto. He had to admit, though, the spirit had been almost passive. He did not lash out on Ryou or, not including the shattered mirror, the apartment this time around.

"Yami Mouto and Bakura Mouto," Ryou stated. Voice, no Ryou corrected himself, Bakura shuffled his feet, looking displeased, but not violent. Atem, er, Yami, beamed at his own name—not that it had changed drastically in any unpleasant way.

"Hello, my name is Ryou Bakura. And you are?" Ryou offered a hand to the spirit—no Bakura, and Bakura shook it.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Bakura Mouto," he said gruffly. Ryou grinned. His tone was informal, almost impolite, but he chalked that up to Bakura's personality. After spending seven years with Ryou, Bakura could be polite and did have a grasp on modern society. He had seen Bakura imitate him to his friends numerous times from his soul room in Battle City, then later in Millennium World.

Yugi held out his own hand to Yami. "Yugi Mouto. It is a pleasure to meet you." Yami took his hand; bringing Yugi's proffered hand to his lips, then kissed the back of his hand. Yugi recoiled.

Yami spoke in a deep voice, not aware of his transgressions, "My name is Yami Mouto, charmed." He blinked rapidly at Yugi.

"What-what are you doing?" Yugi spluttered. Ryou couldn't help it and started to laugh at poor Yami's confused expression. Even Bakura smirked at the Pharaoh's distress.

"That's how it was done in that movie!" Yami justified, crossing his hands haughtily.

"What movie?" Ryou gasped out between chuckles.

Realization dawned on Yugi. "It must have been that foreign romance Tea made him watch last night."

"Why?"

Yugi just shook his head and collected himself, before explaining how most people greeted others, especially outside of clichéd 1930s romances. Yes, Yugi decided, the two did need a crash course introduction to modern Japan.

A week later, on the day before the new school year, Yugi's group of friends met one last time for the informal instruction-for-modern-Japan classes. Bakura trudged slightly behind Ryou, actively making a conscious effort to stay behind the laggard boy, as Ryou plodded along as if the short walk exhausted him.

Ryou waved to the small group as they approached, and Bakura quirked an eyebrow as he saw a bead a sweat trickle down Ryou's face even as Bakura stared sullenly downwards, eyes glaring pathways along the concrete sidewalk. Bakura twirled a lock of his momentarily still white and medium length hair as their present location reminded him of why exactly his arm stung underneath one of his new long sleeved tee shirts. He yanked at his hair, unintentionally ripping out a few strands. He hastily shoved them in his jeans pocket and crossed his arms, bracing himself.

"What's on the schedule today?" Yami asked, making Bakura bristle against the obnoxious grating of the former Pharaoh's pleasing teacher voice. He repositioned his arms; uncrossing and recrossing them, letting the newest cuts rub against the fabric of his shirt.

As they were presently huddled underneath an awning of the local hair stylist, Bakura assumed it was perfectly easy to deduce what their plans for the first part of today were. He bit back a sigh that threatened to make his opinion on their location apparent. "Well," he said in a gruff voice which hid the lump in his throat, "we're all here."

Bakura stomped through the entrance, ignoring the receptionist's greetings and cheery "Good morning!" They all better damn well be here; he didn't want nor need an audience to witness this. Yugi, Ryou, and Yami were more than enough—though why Yami's or Yugi's presences were required, Bakura did not know. He slouched into a fake leather chair, arms still crossed against the rock forming in his gut at the imminent altercation of his hair. He reminded himself with a firm tightening of his arms that he did not have any attachment to his white hair.

Forty-five minutes later—the benefits and perks of being one of the first appointments—Bakura walked out the same door he had marched into, now sporting freshly dyed shoulder-length black hair. He bowed his head, relaxing slightly as his hair still fell forward, covering the majority of his face, and certainly covering the sullenness in his eyes. He had only spoken once during it, to verbalize his confirmation with the new hair style, a habit he formed during the crash course set up by Ryou and Yugi.

His insides twisted into lead; he still had to endure that too. He was almost grateful at the promise of school the following day. These classes on proper etiquette for him and Yami bordered on pandering and condescending, and forced him to swallow back bile as Ryou and Yugi instructed them on anything and everything from appliances to electronics, threatening to snap Bakura's thinly masked self control. Nothing a couple slices with his glass shard couldn't ease. He had taken to carrying the glass shard in his pants pocket, but it wasn't always so easy to slip off somewhere—especially on days like today, where they convened in Yugi's house.

Yugi set up extra chairs, stolen from the kitchen table, in front of a desktop computer in the corner of the living room, gesturing for the four to have a seat. Bakura, positioning his chair a few spaces behind the rest, sat. Yugi booted up the computer while addressing the group, especially Bakura and Yami. "I think you both know this is a computer. We don't use them that often for school, but they are available."

Ryou spoke to the floor, chiming in, "They're becoming more important though. Universities expect you to know something about them. Typing, word processors, the world wide web, for example." He listed the examples while ticking them of his fingers, still staring at the floor, rather than meet Bakura's or Yami's eyes—though Bakura stared at his own lap, inching his hand up the sleeve of his shirt.

Bakura knew a bit about computers, mostly because Ryou had a fairly top of the line model. He had sent Ryou's father an email once, when he borrowed Ryou's body for a particularly long time, only to keep the archeologist's suspicions at bay so he would stay in Egypt. He let Yugi's and Ryou's split lecture wash over him. As the two went through very basic functions of the computer and the internet, he lost himself in scratching at the most recent cut on his arm underneath his sleeve.

He found himself blinking back to reality, quickly removing his hand from his shirt sleeve, to Yugi's wide eyes gazing into his a few millimeters from his. He resisted to the urge to jump back, probably knocking over his chair in the process or throttling the little idiot, choosing just to snarl out a question-like verbiage. "Are you alright?" Yugi asked.

"Fine," Bakura said shortly. He waved a hand in the general direction of the computer, and, much to his relief, everyone returned their gazes to the desktop computer (which beeped in inconsistent lengths as it connected to the internet), "Moving on?"

Yugi pointed at the small symbol on the lower right of the computer that meant the computer was connected to the internet. "Now, we can't stay on too long or Grandpa will be annoyed, but…" Bakura continued to zone out the majority of Yugi's lecture as Yugi continued to speak, just like the majority of 'lessons'. Bakura choked down the bitterness pooling in the back of his throat as Yugi pointed out things he knew from inhabiting the Millennium Ring that used to be present on Ryou's neck at all times.

Bakura sat on his bed in what counted as his room, he supposed. He listened to the toilet next to Ryou's room flush, once, then again. He rolled up his left shirt sleeve, without thinking about why he was rolling up his sleeve. He gazed down at the cuts on his arm, all seven of them. Everything from Ryou's constant illness, to the patronizing grooming classes, to shopping for school clothes made him want to reach for something sharp. In fact, at the school store, behind the rows of text books and uniforms, Bakura had slipped off to peruse the shelves littered with overpriced personal care items, cold medications to lead pencils to shampoo and cream rinse that could be purchased for a better price at the convenience store a few blocks away.

Alone in the personal care aisle no one ever looked at; Bakura stashed a disposable razor in his jeans pocket, smirking as his fingers grazed the glass shard in the process. Now, days later, he unearthed the razor from his dresser, whilst the glass shard nipped slightly at his skin through his pants.

Bakura ripped off the plastic safety piece. The three blades glittered as they caught on the light from the lamp. With his thumb and forefinger, Bakura detached the head from the razor. He studied the razor head, wondering how he would remove the blades from the plastic, when a knock on the door tore his attention away from the razor.

Ryou entered before Bakura could hide the razor and pull down his sleeve. He cursed, pulling at the sleeve roughly. He felt one of the razor blades, still nestled in the plastic covering, cut into his thumb. He watched, filled with horror and grim satisfaction as the accidental cut bled more than any of his self inflicted cuts had. Blood welled up on the side of his thumb, and ran down his hands in rivulets. His heart pounded in tune to the bleeding wound, and the blood matched the beat of his pulse.

"Bakura?" Ryou, Bakura noticed was very pale. His eyes watered and bright red dots stood out in contrast to the skin around his eyes. He had to stop and place a balancing hand on the nightstand by Bakura's bed. Bakura used this opportunity to tuck his bleeding thumb into the black shirt sleeve. At least he had worn his only black shirt today.

"What's wrong with you," Bakura growled, annoyed at himself for being annoyed at Ryou over being ill. Whatever was going on with his host, Bakura did not like it, and the worry turned outward into verbal lashings to Ryou.

Ryou smiled. "I'm fine."

"The hell you're not. Even Kaiba noticed something was off." At that statement, Ryou's dazed look was replaced with a quiet desperation.

"What do you mean?" Ryou blinked away the black spots that always danced in the corner of his vision, especially lately. He wanted to appear alert, able to have this conversation. After the meeting with Kaiba, when the CEO had prevented Ryou from passing out (not that Ryou had mentioned this to Bakura), Bakura seemed almost concerned.

"Nothing. What did you want?" Bakura's earlier anger at being walked in on in a compromising situation bubbled over. "Didn't I tell you not to enter without knocking? Huh brat?"

Ryou visibly shook, this time from fear. "Um. Kaiba called. I'm sorry I bothered you, s-"

Before Ryou could finish with the mantra Bakura made him say last time around, Bakura cut him off. The bleeding, stinging cut on his thumb prevented him from feeling anything about this interaction. "Never mind that. What did Kaiba have to say?"

"He said the paperwork was ready to go. And he wants us to pick it up later today." That made sense. School resumed for Yugi and Ryou tomorrow, and Yugi's parents would finish enrolling Bakura and Yami after they received the false birth certificates and paperwork.

"Okay," Bakura said as a dismissal. Ryou left, Bakura figured, to finish getting dressed. Bakura did not understand why Ryou had to take his shirt off to use the toilet, but it didn't seem important enough to dwell on. He entered the toilet near the kitchen to wash the drying blood off his thumb, and to throw on one of his thicker sweaters to staunch any latent blood flow.

As he returned to his room, Bakura noticed the razor head he had tossed on his nightstand. He turned the lock shut on the door, and he leaned against the door frame. He twisted the razor head in his hands. He was not particularly upset or angry, especially after accidentally cutting his thumb; he couldn't justify cutting, but he felt, low, he supposed. Unproductive, maybe. He didn't really feel like hurting himself, but he thought removing the blades, now, rather than when he was desperate later, was a smart plan.

Feeling validated with his idea, Bakura, in perfect control, ripped and gnashed at the plastic covering with his teeth until three, slightly dented razor blades came loose. The blades fell to the floor by his lap, and Bakura reached over to grab one. Still not needing to hurt himself, Bakura stared at the paper thin metal blade. He didn't trust this little thing to cut very well. Then again, one side was sharp, and glinted in the false light in his room. He reasoned, he should try a practice cut, so as to not cause himself any lasting damage.

He pressed the blade into the smooth skin right above his left knee. It stung as he felt the skin part under the razor side. He hadn't dragged the blade, so this intricate cutting into his skin almost did not count. Bakura watched as beads of blood trickled to the surface of his skin. He didn't think of the meeting with Kaiba last week or the start of his first and final year at a public school tomorrow. Bakura just watched the small tracks of blood snake down, curling down his exposed upper thigh.

A/N:

In the manga, Ryou Bakura never called Yami Bakura anything but "koe", which translates to voice (from the scanlations online since my English YGO mangas are buried in my closet).

The only knowledge I have of Japanese school stores is from a couple mangas. I based it on my university/college school stores. I' probably totally off, but I hope you can ignore any glaring errors for the sake of the plot.

Anyone else old enough to remember dial up? Ye gods. Shudders. I you aren't old enough to remember the ancient, archaic thing that was dial up, it ran through your phone line (you know landlines?), so you couldn't use the telephone (before cell phones?). Hahaha. Which is why Solomon would get angry,