Ore no Gakuen

Chapter Two: Bachelor's Night Out

4:00 PM

Band room

"Well, here we are."

"Yep."

"Like any other Friday."

"Like every other Friday."

Marik smirked and leaned against the smooth brick wall, his eyes lingering on the wooden door. The golden letters WESTHALL MUSIC ROOM were sprawled elegantly across the wooden panel - underneath it in capital nice print: BAKURA AKAKO.

"I'm surprised it doesn't say 'DO NOT DISTURB' too," Marik noted, chuckling darkly. Touzoku snickered.

"I think it'd be cooler if he hung all the broken instruments from the students he's tortured from his doorframe," Touzoku suggested happily. "You know, like AliBababwa and Mufasa and stuff."

Marik blinked and slowly turned to look at Touzoku. Touzoku blinked back.

"...I think it's Mustafa, Touzoku," Marik said slowly. "And Ali Baba. Geez." He turned back to the door, leaving Touzoku scratching his head thoughtfully. "Get your Disney movies right."

The two of them stared at the door for another minute. Marik slowly bent down, as though to examine the wooden door carefully.

"Okay. Mission Getting-Bakura-A-Life-Once-In-A-While...engaged."

"You're getting engaged?" Touzoku asked.

Marik nearly head-desked his face into the door. "...No, you ass," Marik growled, noticing Touzoku's trademark grin. Marik rolled his eyes. "Let's just get him out of there."

"Yeah, good luck," Touzoku muttered. "I swear, if he stays in there any longer, he'll sprout a case of serious acute vampirism." He said this in all entire seriousness.

There was a few second of silence.

Marik stood up. "Okay, if anyone asks, I don't know you."

Touzoku snickered.

Looking back at the door, Marik sighed. Turning to Touzoku, he gave his companion a firm nod, before rapping sharply on the door. "Bakura!"

There was no answer from the other side. Marik waited a few seconds, before rapping again, this time louder and much longer.

"Come on Bakura! We know you're in there!"

His rapping was interrupted by a soft hiss and the faintest cringe of bad piano keys. Marik paused to listen to the faint interruption, but when silence met him once more, he began to knock on the door again, much louder.

"We do this every Friday Bakura," Marik said, raising his voice. "Come on, it's not healthy for you to stay cooped up in there..."

"Vampirism!" Touzoku helped, his voice much louder than Marik's. "If you don't come out, you'll have SAVs!"

Marik had to stop knocking to drop his head in another 'headdesk' way.

"Of all the..." Marik muttered and raised his head. He decided to stop knocking and try yelling instead. "BAKURA! It's sixteen o'clock right now, it's getting late, and we all want to go home. So just get your ass out of here and we'll try to have a decent time, alright?"

Once more, there was nothing in response, other than a soft hiss and the succession of unhappy growling piano keys.

At this point Touzoku lost all his patience (as it usually lasted five minutes max) and he shook his head.

"Ah, screw it!" he declared. "I'M GOING IN!"

"Wait!" Marik reached out to stop Touzoku. "Touzoku-"

But big, tall, muscular and reckless Touzoku had already crashed through the bandroom door, war cry and all. Marik didn't even wince at the splinters that cracked from the hinges - at least the doors were still partially intact. The room inside was dark, so Marik couldn't see what the heck Touzoku was doing. He stood in front of the door and cupped his hands around his mouth.

" - THE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED YOU DIMWIT!"

There was a succesion of a few more crashes, some very sour piano keys, and the hollow sound of a drum rolling about. Within another few seconds, Touzoku came proudly stalking out the door, smug grin on his face and having a thin and very pissed off Bakura hanging off his shoulder.

"Unhand me," Bakura growled. He began clawing at Touzoku's shirt (he had changed into a white muscle shirt and jeans.). "UNHAND ME DAMN YOU!"

Touzoku didn't even seem to be phased at all by Bakura's clawing or thrashing. He merely turned to Marik, satisfied as could be, despite having the demonic band teacher ripping at his shirt. "So. Where are we going tonight?"

Marik eyed the scene in front of him for a moment, debating whether or not to help their smallest friend. But, since he had already given Bakura two warnings (and this happened very Friday when they tried to go out together for dinner), Marik decided to let Touzoku carry him.

"Red Sparrow," Marik nodded, still eyeing Bakura, who had temporarily stopped thrashing. Marik wisely took a step away from Touzoku. The moment Bakura was quiet, it meant that he was up to something...

Whack.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT MY EYE!"

A quick blur, Bakura's left leg had flipped up, nailing Touzoku in his left face. Letting go of the younger comrade to grab his eye, the younger one then managed to elegantly flip over and onto his feet again, while Touzoku was too busy swearing like a trucker (again) and covering his left eye.

"Holy fucking shit, Bakura---!"

Bakura didn't even turn around. The band professor snorted softly, and dusted his sleeves, carefully folding the cuff-links at the end of his sleeves. "Red Sparrow, did you say?" Bakura asked silkily, addressing Marik. Marik had to hold back a snort of laughter, so he settled with smirking instead.

"Yeah. They got a new menu now for ribs and vegetarian dishes. Good variety, that place."

As Marik was talking, Touzoku was still complaining his eye, muttering vengeance on Bakura who slowly turned on his heels to face Marik. At the mention of ribs, though, Touzoku immediately stopped his ranting.

"Ribs?" he repeated hopefully, his good eye widening like a child hearing the word 'candy'. "New ribs?"

Marik had to hold back a snort of laughter again. "Yes, Touzoku, ribs."

Behind him, Bakura scoffed lightly. "Well, if you insist," Bakura sighed dramatically. "I suppose I can't resist the taste of a good, rare steak on a Friday night."

Marik shook his heads. "Carnivores, the lot of you," he teased lightly. He cocked his head towards the door. "Come on. If we don't hurry, they'll give away our reservations." Those amethyst eyes darkened considerably. "And you know how much I hate it when they give away our tables..."

"I'm coming," Touzoku instantly said. Whether he was suddenly hurrying up because of the mention of ribs or because of what happened the last time Touzoku kept Marik waiting (resulting in the lost of a very good and expensive seating arrangement) was uncertain. But for whatever reason, Touzoku was walking a heck of a lot faster than either Marik or Bakura.

Walking swiftly in his strides, Bakura quickly came up to Marik's pace, still dusting his black jacket. The two of them were ... considerably good friends with one another. Well, alright, they were better than considerably good friends - close friends. Actually, all three of them were good friends, but no one really wanted to admit it nor show it. Or something like that.

Men and their complexes.

At any rate, Marik was the only person who could control Bakura normally, excluding his demonic spazziness. Both of them shared the same exquisite want for expensive food, for elegant and immaculate clothes, for decent music and fine literature. It was Touzoku who didn't give a damn whether where he ate was at Le Ritz or Burger King. As long as it was food and it tasted good, Touzoku couldn't care otherwise.

Bakura snorted softly and looked up at Marik (a few inches taller) with a smirk on his lips. "I personally think it was of very good taste to hang Touzoku from your living room ceiling fan the last time he made us late. His white hair and dark skin matched your carpet just so nicely."

4:15 PM

Teacher's Lounge

In the teacher's lounge, there was a long full-length mirror by the door. The room, usually crowded with people and coffee, drinks and paperwork, was now empty and quiet except for one person. This one person was standing in front of aforemtioned mirror, checking himself out from every angle possible.

But hey, who wouldn't?

Long, shoulder-length, gorgeous golden silk strands of hair were his pride. That and his beautiful large lavender eyes, of course. And his richly tanned skin, his sculpted and fine muscles...not too thin, and not too bulky...

And a dashing, dazzling white smile to go with that...add the boy-band voice and the gentle giggle, and you've got yourself a lady charmer.

(Darn how this narrator wishes she was that mirror...)

And History Teacher Malik Ishtal knew it all too well.

He was dressed in a fine, lavender shirt, silk and smart. His pants were black and made of a tight material, rough and coarse like jeans but tight like leather. He turned around to eye his butt for a bit - good. The pants did not make him look a smidgen fat more than he was already.

Abruptly, the door opened. Malik turned around to face the enterance-ee in all confidence...and smiled brightly when he saw the cute little head of the English professor.

"Ryyyouuuuu!"

Shaking his head, Ryou looked up, only to see his friend come at him with great big arms. "Ah- Malik!"

Laughing, Malik backed off, sitting onto the table. "Ah, my little literary-friended one," Malik chided. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Well-"

"Good," Malik grinned and clapped his hands. He jumped off the table. "Then you are accompanying me, as a dear close friend and comrade, to the Red Sparrow tonight."

"The Red Sparrow? But Malik -"

"Ah uh, no buts, my dear friend," Malik wagged his finger. "Youuu-" He poked Ryou on the nose. "Need to live out more. I promised that every Friday I was going to take you out so you could live a little ever since university. Up up, with me you come."

Too caught up in surprise, Ryou allowed himself to be dragged away by his friend. As he came to, Ryou finally began to sputter.
"B-but Malik...! Red Sparrow is a bar..."

But Malik didn't reply. As the twenty-four-year old began to drag Ryou through the halls and down the teacher's parking lot, Ryou had to seriously consider who the heck fed Malik sugar that morning.

5:00PM

The Red Sparrow

"Here's our seat."

The booth was a horse-shoe-shapped booth, and lined with deep red leather. They were cushy and appeared to be robust, providing the most comfortable of eating experiences. A round table was in the middle. Around this round table, Marik, Touzoku, and Bakura wormed their way in. Marik sat on the outside (as was his usual preference, since he knew by experience that if Touzoku was up to something sitting here was a fast get-away.), Touzoku in the middle (Marik had once insisted that they keep the poor boy boxed in in case he went wild.) Finally, Bakura seated himself at the end, opposite of Marik.

Leaning over the table and crossing his arms, Touzoku smirked. "See? I told you they wouldn't give away our table."

"Oh shut up," Marik scoffed. He casually leaned back to get a good view of the restaurant.

The restaurant was based on a series of floors and steps - the booths were piled up on the sides on small steps, and in the middle were smaller tables and chairs. A dark bar with flashing lights was to their left. Below the bar, there were more steps, leading down to a tiled-floor and a dark enclosure of blaring music and flashing disco lights. The entire restaurant had a lively atmosphere despite most of the lights being dimmed and that most of the booths were encased in near darkness. In fact, the three of them particularly liked this restaurant because of its setting - it was calming, yet fun, soothing, yet excitable.

The booth the three bachelors were in was high up on the highest step. Since they were on the highest step, they could see through the windows that surrounded the highest plane of booths, as most of the restaurant was below ground-level.

"Pretty good music choice today," Touzoku approved, nodding his head with the music. He looked over at Bakura, who was already flipping through the menu with long, meticulous fingers. "See anything good?"

"Not particularly," Bakura said off-handedly, continuing to flip through the menu pages as though bored. Raising his head, Bakura eyed the dance floor, before turning his head back to the menu. They had been here before, usually weekly, at this same booth. So naturally Bakura was bored. In fact, Bakura was in a haughtily bad mood. His hair was beginning to tuft out in horns from lack of sleep.

Touzoku's hair was still bouncing to the music.

Finally taking his eyes off looking around the place, Marik grabbed Bakura's menu. He flipped through it without a word, and Bakura didn't even protest.

"Ribs?" Touzoku asked, leaning over towards Marik to see the specials. Without looking up, Marik managed to retrieve the 'Specials' sheet and handed it to Touzoku; the eldest of the three was sporting a very happy grin when he recieved it. "Hmn...Anyone up for anything spicy tonight?"

Marik 'hm'ed thoughtfully, having not made his decision yet. Bakura, however, snorted.

"I'll order my own set of ribs, thank you," the other white-haired one said coldly. His eyes kept on flickering back to the band that was playing on the bottom floor corner. His cheek kept on twitching. Marik finally noticed and peered over his menu sardonically.

"Control, Bakura, control."

Bakura hissed and turned away from the band as though disgusted. "Every note, every melody - wrong wrong wrong!" He gave a dramatic shudder.

Touzoku rolled his eyes. "Drama queen," he teased. Bakura wrinkled his nose. Touzoku ignored the other and shoved the Specialties in front of Marik. "I'm thinking about getting this - do you want any?"

Marik looked up from his menu to arch an eyebrow at Touzoku's choice. "Touzoku -...I'm a vegetarian, remember?"

Touzoku rolled his eyes dramatically. "OH! Right. Forgot." He took back his menu and stared at it analyzingly. "Well, if no one else wants the Steak and Ribs Spicy Explosion, then I guess it's all for me." His big grin didn't look disappointed whatsoever, though.

Huffing softly, Bakura plucked the specials menu away from Touzoku's grip and scanned it quickly.

"Red Sparrow's Premium Cut Steak-" Bakura handed the menu back to Touzoku. "I'm feeling a little carnivorous today."

Marik was still deciding. "...Hm..."

Abruptly, a rather beauteous waitress sashayed up to their table. She was holding a tray of glasses, her long, thick and wavy blond hair was up in a loose ponytail. She was dressed in an uniform (deep red with streaks of white at the bottom) that was chinched at the waist with an apron and came just to her mid-thigh. Her vuluptuous breasts were held high up and firm, and seemed this close to breaking free of the button confinements of her uniform. Her nametag plate read Mai Kujaku.

She flashed them a 100-watt smile and laid out their drinks. "Hello boys," she greeted, with a very domineering air about her. "And how are we this week?"

Immediately, both Marik and Touzoku were sporting smirks that were entirely different from the smirks and grins they usually had.

"Lovely outfit, Mai," Marik complimented, his voice low and this close to snickering. Mai laughed.

"You like it, Ishtar?" she asked sarcastically. "I got it one size smaller just for you -..."

"And it fits you beautifully," Touzoku cut in. "I mean, really, like, are you sure that's one size smaller? Because I swear, that outfit makes you look so thin and so hot that I -"

Mai cut in with a laugh. "Now, now Touzoku, get your mind out of the gutter." She whapped her pad of paper on his head playfully.

Touzoku grinned evilly. "Is my mind ever out of the fucking gutter?"

"I don't know," Marik commented. "I think you live there. In fact, you should leave 'the Gutter' as your forwarding address for whenever you move."

"Or whenever I see someone as charming and sexy as you, Kujaku," Touzoku grinned at Mai. Mai snorted.

"Man, you are terrible at this, Touzoku," she laughed. "Really, you womanize women this way?"

"What works small will work big," Touzoku said smugly. "And let me tell you, I know big."

Mai laughed again. "Once more, Touzoku, you're terrible at this." She poised her hand over her pad of paper with a pen. "Seriously, dear, I think you'd have far more luck with women if you just relied on your looks and said, 'Hey ladies, there's a motel up the street.'"

Touzoku's face temporarily fell. "Tried that, didn't work," he said sadly.

Both Mai and Marik burst out laughing, and Touzoku flashed a grin again, indicating he had been joking. Mai smiled (they were her regulars) and she rested her weignt on the back of her heels comfortably.

"So what will it be this week, dears?"

Touzoku was the first to say his. "Steak and Ribs Spicy Explosion!"

Mai grinned knowingly, jotting it down. "And a beer to go with that too?"

Touzoku nodded. Mai jotted it down. "And you, Marik?"

Marik looked up from his menu thoughtfully. "Hm...I think I'll get this one today." He pointed to something in the thick menu. Mai nodded approvingly.

"Ah...the Spicy Koshari? Excellent choice," Mai scribbled it down. "And what would you prefer to drink?"

"Just some Pepsi and Vodka," Marik folded the menu. "I'll mix it myself."

Mai nodded and took the menu. "And you, Bakura?" She bent over, ready for his order. "What would you prefer?"

Bakura didn't even look up.

"Actually, I'd prefer it if you would button up your shirt so your cleavage doesn't spill into my food."

There was a moment of dead silence: Mai was still, Marik glared, and Touzoku gawked.

Bakura smirked and casually rested his arm on the table, eyeing Mai nonchalantly. "But that's merely a customer's opinion, Mai-san." He retrieved his arm from the table and crossed them over his chest. Touzoku was still gawking at Bakura as though the younger white-haired one was missing his head.

Finally regaining composure, Mai sighed dramatically. "Red Sparrow's Premium Cut Steak; bloody rare; with saffron rice as a side dish. Correct?"

Bakura's smirk widened. "Nothing out of the ordinary, Mai-san."

"We also have a sushi special as a side dish as well. California rolls and Dynamite rolls."

"How many apiece?"

"Six."

"Made by an authentic Japanese chef?"

"Yes, Bakura."

Bakura smiled, satisfied. "I'll have that as well. Arigatou gozaimasu, Mai-san."

Rolling her eyes, Mai stuffed her pen in her apron pocket, and rolled the tray under her arm. Her other arm rested on her hip, and she sighed dramatically at Bakura.

"Every week, Bakura, every week," she said, rolling her eyes again.

Bakura laughed, something that rarely happened unless someone had been seriously maimed. "Merely looking out in the best interest of your beautiful breasts, Mai-san. You wouldn't want raw cow blood to be staining those assets, would you?"

Not even taking Bakura seriously, Mai shook her head and walked away. However, as she stepped down from the last step onto the dance floor, one could see her just fiddling with the aforemtioned button.

Once she was out of earshot, Touzoku shook his head. He snapped around to face Bakura.

"Are you fucking NUTS?!"

Bakura snorted non-chalantly and took a sip from his water. "Now now, if I were 'fucking nuts', Mai would have cracked that lovely board of a tray over my head. I daresay I was merely looking out for the well-being of her precious cleavage."

Marik merely shook his head. "Good grief, Bakura," he said. "Can't you be civil for at least one outing for once?"

Bakura pretended to look aghast and hurt. "Oh, but Marik," he admonished, "how could I simply be me if I weren't a nasty, bitter bachelor?"

Touzoku scowled and grunted.

"You could be a sexually-interested-hopeful bachelor like the rest of us normal people..."

There was a silence between them all, as Marik pretended that he did not know these people, that's right, did not know them, and Bakura was scowling, not happy having his fun ruined, and Touzoku was apparently frowning deep into space.

Suddenly the silence was broken.

"You don't really think she'll button up her shirt, do you?" Touzoku asked worriedly.

"Aw, Malik," Ryou complained as his friend shoved him onto a barstool. "No, Malik, really - I'm non-alcoholic, really..."

"Oh Ryou," Malik shook his head. "You don't have to buy a drink, I'll buy you a drink. Live a little, Ryou."

Ryou sighed and rolled his eyes. "No, Malik," he said firmly. "And you shouldn't drink either tonight," Ryou said, plucking the drinks menu from Malik's hands. "You're our designated driver tonight. I'm not getting on that motorcycle if you're drunk."

Malik sighed. "I suppose you're right." He winced. "The owner would kill me if I so much as ding it..."

Ryou furrowed his brow lightly at his friend. "Where did you get that motorcycle anyway?" Ryou inquired suspiciously. Malik merely smiled 'innocently'.

"Chill down, Ryou, it's perfectly legal." The charismatic blonde sat back against the bar. "Barkeep! Two Sprites, please."

Ryou's eyes brightened. "Ooh! Sprite!" He sat up straighter in his seat. "So why are we here again, Malik?"

Malik grinned. "To have a good time, to forget about school, and to perhaps pick up some romances along the way."

At the last bit about the romances, Ryou's face fell a little. "Oh, Malik, you know how I feel about...you know...relationships and all that."

The blond nodded, running a hand through his hair. "I know, Ryou," he said, swirling in his seat to face his friend. "But you got to live out a little - and I mean, you don't have to look for someone right now, but coming out here...at least you've got options now, you know?"

Sighing, Ryou nodded. The barkeep came back with two cans of Sprite. Ryou opened his and took a sip immediately.

"Thirsty?" Malik inquired, opening his and squeezing a complimentary lemon slice into it.

Ryou nodded. "Yes," he took another sip. "I've been talking all day today - all my spares are gone now that Ms. Metternich is on a maternity leave."

Malik chuckled and took a deep sip from his Sprite. "I would trade some of my spares for yours, but I can't teach English to save my life."

"Oh, no, Malik, you speak English perfectly fine," Ryou exclaimed. Malik snorted.

"Hm, I'm sure," he said, swivelling in his seat. Changing the subject completely, Malik then said: "We'll just have dinner here, okay? If you're not comfortable with the whole 'meeting random people in hopes for something more' mission. We can just head over to a movie or an arcade later - I got some extra dollars on me."

Hearing this, Ryou's eyes lit up. "Oh, really Malik?" he asked, hopefully. "Really?"

Malik grinned and ruffled his friend's hair. "Yes, Ryou." He chuckled and flipped open a nearby menu. "But just let me have at least one dance to myself, ne?"

Looking much brighter, Ryou nodded. "Okay!"

"A Spicy Koshari..."

Marik nodded approvingly as his bowl of Koshari was placed before him. A bottle of Vodka and a can of Pepsi and an empty glass followed.

"For Touzoku - A Steak and Ribs Spicy Explosion..."

Touzoku's eyes lit up in a very carnivorous way - something that happened everytime the man was starving and caught sight of red meat. Marik made another wise choice to decide to not look when Touzoku was going to start eating. And he was right. No sooner did Touzoku get his steak did he stab it with a knife- and ripped the thing apart like some wild animal.

Marik closed his eyes and focused on his Koshari.

"Oh eyuck, Touzoku! Please, you're going to stain the assets..."

"Oh, sorry," Touzoku's voice could be heard, muffled. "Right. Wouldn't want to harm those pretty things, would we?"

"And a Steak - bloody rare, with saffron rice and sushi rolls as a side."

Bakura nodded a fraction of his head in the smallest of bows. Although he was not as crass about eating as Touzoku was, for whatever reason, Bakura's red eyes always turned a much brighter color whenever he eyed red meat. The youngest white-haired one, quite uniquely, also had the tendancy to sprout fangs when he was eating steak. When Touzoku and Marik first noticed, Marik found it very interesting, and that was when Touzoku first coined his term that Bakura had sprouted 'vampirism.'

Bakura, accustomed to his Japanese roots, also tended to eat his dinner with chopsticks. He even carried his own - silver stained, of course- merely out of habit and comfort. He licked his lips discreetly (tongue sliding over little fang and all) and picked up his utensils.

The three of them began to eat - Marik calmly, not looking up at his comrades as they ate, Touzoku noisily, taking deep swigs from his bottle of beer, and Bakura silently, cutting the steak in multiple, tiny pieces, licking his lips occasionally at the sight of blood.

"You do realize," Marik said finally, wrapping another forkload of Koshari, "that if you keep on eating raw meat, you might eventually end up with food poisoning?"

"I'll take my chances," Bakura said hoarsely, placing a bite of raw meat into his mouth.

Marik returned to his Koshari. "Alright, but when you're in the hospital one day..."

"I'm immune," Bakura replied. He took a sip of water and cleared his throat.

"Immune?" Marik repeated, placing his forkload of Koshari into his mouth.

"Yes, immune," Bakura repeated briskly, voice much better. He began on his rice. "I've had food poisoning before from raw meat. I'm fine."

Marik looked mildly impressed."Really now. And when was this?"

"When I was very small," Bakura said shortly. And he sufficiently placed a large amount of rice and steak into his mouth. Marik took this a sign that Bakura did not want to talk - after all, everytime his childhood was mentioned, Bakura's tuft of hair ("Demon Horns," Touzoku happily dubbed once.) that indeed, stuck out like horns, became more pronounced. This was the usual signal that Bakura's mood was getting much darker.

Touzoku, who wasn't looking up when this conversation occurred, asked, "Really? How old were you --"

There was a sharp grunt from Bakura, who was still had his mouth full and didn't want to be disturbed. Touzoku looked up and scowled when he saw the aforementioned Demon Horns in the air. He rolled his eyes and went back to eating his steak.

"Just asking," Touzoku muttered. He took a swig of beer.

"Hmn," Ryou patted his lips with a napkin. "That was delicious."

Ryou, who had ordered baked chicken with mashed potatoes and peas, was quite satisfied with his meal. Malik, who had ordered a vegetarian burger, was distracted and hadn't even touched his meal.

"Hm?" Ryou swallowed his mouthful and looked at Malik. "Malik, why aren't you eating?"

The History teacher, however, was staring distantly at the dance table. Since night had fallen, the dance floor was now actively alive with couples and loners dancing. The disco sphere above was flashing multi-colored lights, and the dimmed lights at the tables had turned nearly dark. Most of the diners had left already, not interested in dancing...but all the people left...

Malik abrupt stood up. "That's it. I'm dancing."

Ryou nearly choked on his mashed potatoes. "E-Excuse me?"

"I''m dancing," Malik explained. He took a step forward and adjusted his shirt. "You don't have to come, Ryou. But I'm going to dance, ne?"

Ryou, looking most extremely relieved, nodded. "Wait," he said, looking nervous all over again. "What if someone comes up to me? What if someone tries to ask me to dance? What if -"

Malik laughed. "Ryou..." He patted his friend's hand. "You'll be fine."

Ryou looked doubtful.

A/N: That was nearly...nine pages, I'm guessing. There was more to this chatper, but they will have to wait for some other time. In the meantime, I hope I'm not making anything too obvious plotwise...And I hope you've enjoyed the little banters between Marik, Touzoku and Bakura.

Please read and review!! 3