Wow. So, it's been almost three years since the last update. Um, uh, sorry about that guys. I've never forgotten about Like the Rain, and continue to hold a special place in my heart for Yu-Gi-Oh, the characters, and this story. About a zillion thanks go out to a dear friend of mine that I met at the University of Florida, who not only happened to be a huge YGO fan, but an old fanfiction writer like myself, and prompted me to start looking at (and writing) fanfiction again. HieiAijin1410, you are wonderful dahling. About a zillion more thanks go out to all of my readers and reviewers who, to this day, continue to read, review, and ask for more, even after three years of inactivity. This chapter, though painfully brief and written in patches over the past three years, is for you guys. I don't expect many of those who were avid readers years ago to come back, but I hope that all of you who are reading, new or old, enjoy this.

With any luck, posting this chapter will get things moving again. I've had an awful writer's block, and this chapter isn't all of what I had been planning so many years ago. But it's a start, right?

With love (and squalor), RR

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, or any of the characters and ideas associated with the manga and anime. All creative story and plot ideas that show up in LTR are expressly mine.

Like the Rain, but Revolutionnaire Rouge

Chapter Fourteen – Sucker Punch

Anzu wasn't at school. At first, he hadn't been particularly concerned – she was probably just running late, or had to take care of something in the office. Of course, that's why she wasn't in English as the first bell rang. However, as the other students began to trickle in from the crowded halls, it became all the more apparent to him that Anzu would not make an appearance that day. The other man [for that's what he had began to call the only other person who seemed involved in Anzu's life] sent him a sharp, meaningful glance. He tensed and scowled back, trying to convey what he was thinking: I don't know where she is either!

The first portion of the day was a nervous one. Through English and History his hand twitched every few minutes towards his pocket, where his cell phone and his contact with Anzu lay merely a few inches away. Had he less restrain he would have pulled away from his desk, strode out of class, and gone straight to her apartment. More than once it had crossed his mind; more than once he had started towards the doors in between changing classes. Only two doors and a few blocks kept him from her and knowing what had happened.

For the first time in a long time he was mindlessly and insanely obsessed. There was a noticeable atmosphere of desperation in each movement - his pen clicked forcefully across each paper in a hurried scrawl, as if moving faster would by some convention of physics bring him closer to his goal. He'd noticed that the other man was equally perturbed by her absence; once he'd glimpsed him looking woefully at the clock, then at his cell phone, and back to the clock again. It was mildly reassuring to know that he was not the only one concerned about Anzu's absence. At the same time, it was incredibly frustrating that that other man also seemed so intent on her, so anxiously devoted. When had he begun to think of that other man as a competitor? Had it not been that way for some time now, and he just begun to realize it? Was it not that he had begun to consider her to be his own? He shook his head many times that day, trying to rid himself of questions he was sure weren't entirely rhetorical.

"Kaiba."

His hand remained hovering over the door frame as he froze at the familiar voice. He didn't answer.

"Kaiba, what the hell are you doing here?"

At the tone in Ryou's voice, Seto Kaiba finally dropped his hand and turned around, a scowl already fixed on his face.

"What is it, Bakura? Is there some sort of law against me being here?"

"No." The British boy's voice was flat, annoyed. His expression matched Kaiba's to a 'T'. "But it is illegal to break and enter."

"It's not breaking and entering when you know where the key is," he spat back. Ryou's eyes narrowed as Kaiba revealed the key in his hand with a magician's flourish.

"What the hell are you doing here, Kaiba?" Ryou asked again after a pause.

"Making sure she's alright."

"Since when did that become your job?"

Kaiba didn't answer. Ryou took a step towards him and the door to Anzu's apartment. From his pocket Ryou pulled a key ring, selected a key with a single heart sticker at its top, and placed it in the lock. Without pulling his gaze away from Kaiba, he turned the key with a deft twist and opened the door.

"Go. Now." The tone was unmistakable, a sharp blend of fury and defensive spite.

"Ryou?" From inside the apartment, a clear and familiar note of concern. Both Kaiba and Ryou tensed.

"Hold on a sec, Anzu!" Ryou turned back to Kaiba with a fierce glance. Kaiba held steady for a single bitterly tense moment before unclenching his fist and dropping the key to the ground. The key hit the concrete with a dull ring. Kaiba turned on his heel and pounded down the stairs. Ryou hesitated at the door for a moment before picking up the key, placing it about the frame, and entering the apartment.

Ryou was one of those sensitive types that dreamed often and took those dreams seriously. Maybe it had something to do with having served as the vessel for a vengeful Egyptian thief – Ryou had learned in the most unpleasant of ways that the unsightly and unrealistic things in life were by far the most likely to be true.

Anzu, on the other hand, felt that all of that Freudian interpretation was sheer bullshit.

Nonetheless, when she broke away from her stream of sleep coated in a sheen of sweat, Anzu couldn't help but feel a tinge of nervousness flicker across her skin. Surely there was nothing behind those images, no true meaning to what fantasies her mind had created… she shook her head, working to cleanse herself of the vision brought to her in the REM hours. She was Anzu Mazaki – not Isis Isthar – and thus refused to take anything from what she had seen.

It was the sound of voices that finally tore Anzu from her avid act of denial. First, a hard exclamation, followed by a disgruntled undertone. Challenge, challenge, venomous defense, hesitation. She tried to capture one of the voices, identify, but their tones seemed to blend together – one person, one intent, but still two different –

"Ryou?"

Suddenly she recognized exactly who was outside of her door. Her question was one of confused concern, she didn't quite believe –

"Hold on a sec, Anzu!"

Yes, that was Ryou, without a doubt. Her stomach clenched as again she tried to deny the existence of the second voice. But now that she had caught Ryou's, there was only one other person…

The door closed with a firm click, followed by heavy steps Anzu knew were Ryou's form of politeness. She rolled over in her bed and reached over the side, grabbing a pair of sweatpants to pull on before Ryou entered. She flopped apathetically back onto her bed right as Ryou pulled the door open. He didn't knock. Anzu rolled onto her side, cradling her head with an arm so that she could see him.

"Hey." He leaned against the doorway, casually tense.

"Hey," she said softly, watching him with a new found curiosity. To her, his jaw seemed sharper, body more lithe, air, more imposing, more confident. Had she not known Ryou almost better than she knew herself, Anzu in that moment would have mistaken Ryou for his darker twin, Yami Bakura. But for all of the new found sharpness, his eyes were still soft, still Ryou. There was something though, something so off mark that she couldn't quite tell what was wrong.

"You okay?"

"I think that's what I'm supposed to ask you," he said, chuckling darkly. An unrestrained shiver crept up her spine, branching slowly into each limb like ice patterns forming on glass; she was numbed by this nearly unfamiliar Ryou. Anzu bit her lip, covering for her silence. Ryou raised an eyebrow, a corner of his taut lips lifting in an expression that told her he had called her bluff. Stalling, Anzu sat up and stretched her arms back, wincing as the joints popped loudly. She sat, paused for a moment in post stretch, arms lifting up and pulling away from her, palms up, as if she were trying to defrost herself through sun worship. The balance of her limbs above her was precarious, almost fragile despite the clear line of muscles under her clothing. The boiling turmoil inside overwhelmed the brute strength of the outside and Anzu melted, slumping forward with the smooth liquid motion of water, rolling down until she was nothing more than a chilled and slouching puddle.

"I couldn't face him today," she finally said. Sighed. Ryou closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he would not meet her gaze.

"Yami, or Seto?" The question was flat, forcefully disinterested.

"Either. Or."

He still did not meet her eyes, but Anzu didn't notice; she had averted her own gaze upon her answer.

"He was outside. Reaching for the spare key, Anzu."

Their eyes met at this statement – a charge racketed across Anzu's skin, prickling and scattering.

"Why?" The word slipped from her lips before they reached his, curious and frightened in the same moment.

"He didn't say. He merely contested that he had a reason and a right to be here. What happened last night, Anzu?" For the first time in their friendship, Ryou's words were coated with a sort of bitter insinuation. She sat speechless for a moment, taken aback by the thought.

"He walked me back from dance. My parents were here. He helped me fend them off. We ate Chinese, he went home. Nothing more, Ryou." She tread her words carefully; though she had nothing to hide from him, Anzu still felt as though any word could shatter the glass fragile thread that seemed to connect them now. Something had shifted, something she didn't understand that made her want to curl up and away, something that put her on the hard line defensive. As if she had to hide from him, more than she had before.

But the words seemed to work. The tight draw of Ryou's body went slack, as did the press of his lips. He again looked like Ryou. She took that moment of familiarity to spring.

"I got the solo!"

Only a moment ago so drawn in concern, Ryou's face rose up into a smile of genuine pleasure. In a return to his former self he leapt away from the doorframe hopped onto her bed, sweeping her up in a fierce hug. She hugged him back tightly, enjoying the return to normalcy. This was the boy that meant so much to her, her best friend and confidante. This was her Ryou.

Marik was tired of it.

For the past three days or so – seemingly endless days, in his mind – all he had listened to were the complaints of his older sister. His room was too dirty, the dishes weren't done, the work at the museum was exhausting, the staff was incompetent, and so on and so on. Perhaps the worst complaint was the one he heard most frequently: Seto was ignoring her. He wouldn't return her calls, she said, he was never available in his office, she said, he never came to visit, she said. Personally, Marik didn't blame Kaiba. He was having a hard enough time with Isis as it was, and Marik was merely her brother. He couldn't imagine having to handle her in a relationship.

Movement at his side, followed by a sudden warmth that filled the void of empty air besides him, indicated that Shizuka had sat down next to him. Marik sent her a friendly smile, which she returned with her own sweet but empty gesture. They began to talk, discussing classes, their day, the new English project. Around them, Honda and Duke were debating something loudly – which one of them would date Shizuka first, perhaps. Shizuka raised her eyes slightly, an abbreviated roll to let him know just how ridiculous she thought the other two men were being. Marik and Shizuka continued to go through their motions, stiff formalities compared to how they normally acted around each other. But no outsider would be able to tell, for both of them excelled at keeping quiet and keeping secrets. More than anything, Marik wished he could sigh and rest his head on Shizuka's shoulder, feel her hands through his hair, complain aloud to her about Isis, maybe then... But they were in the presence of friends, and thus could do nothing but sit and chat idly. It was for the best, after all.

The conversation lapsed into a moment of silence. Marik watched as Shizuka's eyes wandered around the courtyard; often she would stop in the middle of a sentence of a thought, merely to widen her eyes and watch something that was happening. She had told him once that, because she had come so close to being entirely blind, because she had come so close to losing it all, she now took every moment she could to see, to watch. In doing such, Shizuka had surprised Marik more than once when she revealed to him what she saw.

Now was one of those moments. He saw that her eyes had snagged on something interesting. Immediately she drew forward, coming closer to him than she ever did in public. Her lips rested only a few inches away from his ear, a thought which brought to Marik so much frustrating, unexpressed promise.

"He's watching her again," she whispered. Her words caught his attention, drawing him away from the distraction her light breath brought to his skin. Marik looked up sharply, eyes focusing in on Kaiba. Right as always, Shizuka was, though no one else might have picked up on it. Kaiba had bunkered himself under the willow tree again, and was fiddling with his cell phone. His appearance of business was deceiving, but now that Marik was aware, he could see Kaiba's sidelong glances, the brief moments when his eyes lifted over the phone's screen to gaze across the courtyard to where Anzu sat with Ryou on one side and Yami on the other. They had made up earlier, Yami and Anzu, in a tense bout of forgiveness. Yami was now bombarding her with details on the latest dueling system, while Anzu nodded patiently and Ryou, with a muted look of chagrin, ate his lunch. When Marik looked back to Kaiba, he saw that the other boy reflected Ryou's expression. Kaiba's eyes narrowed minutely before turning back to his work. But although he didn't realize it, he had been caught, again.

Marik nodded to let Shizuka know he too had witnessed what had happened.

"Isis isn't going to be happy," Marik said sourly, his brown face puckering in displeasure. Shizuka let out a slight snort.

"Do you think Kaiba would actually act on his feelings?" she asked quietly," He's an honorable man, but also a passive one. His relationship with Isis is a consistent one, and one that could help him later on. He doesn't seem to be the type that would go through the difficulty of breaking up and courting again, particularly when Anzu might be less useful to him than Isis, business wise."

He nodded again, not surprised by Shizuka's practicality.

"But what about love?" he asked, putting on a goofy grin that made Shizuka giggle," There is no way that Kaiba could love Isis. I don't even love Isis. But if he cares about Anzu…"

"Few people know that Kaiba is with Isis," she said quietly," But he is, whether for love or otherwise. But if anyone ever found out, it would probably go unquestioned – your sister is a big figure in the media, with all of her work. But you know as well as I the way the world would react if people found out that he and Anzu..."

"Even so, with the way he's watching her, someone other than us is bound to notice and cause a stir. If he's so business minded, I would think he'd be a little more careful about who he gawks at. He is Seto Kaiba."

Shizuka chuckled at his statement. She looked to her brother, then to Honda and Duke, none of whom had noticed their exchange. "But really, who pays that much attention anymore?"

"Isis."

Isis pulled off her reading glasses and looked up from the paper she had been working on. Her hand stopped in mid-sentence, a stream of irate Arabic bitten off as she recognized the voice.

"Seto!" The Egyptian woman quickly leapt up from her desk, moving to embrace the man on the other side of her office. She looked up at him with a smile that flickered as she felt him tense slightly under her touch. Immediately she read the expression on his face – worry hidden under a façade of frustration. Her smile relaxed reassuringly, knowing he must have been overwhelmed with work.

"How have you been? Has work been too taxing recently?"

Seto still did not loosen. It was as if he was holding his breath away from her. She did not let her confusion onto her face.

"Work has been fine," he replied in a tone so casual it seemed forced," Busy as usual. How have you been?"

"Better by the day. Every week Rishid has sent news of some new find. It makes me anxious to return home, but I've also enjoyed being here. I've missed you though…"

"I've missed you too, Isis."

Intelligent as she was, Isis would delude herself in that moment, removing Seto's tone from his statement. His words came out as mechanical, obligatory, but she quickly forgot. Her eyes lit up as she tightened her embrace, resting her chin on his chest and looking up into his face.

"There's a trustee's dinner two weeks from Friday. Would the great Seto Kaiba be interested in attending as a representative of Kaiba Corp?" Isis' voice was smiling and sly.

He stared at her with an expression only a few steps removed from blank.

"Uh…"

Isis reared back from him, face now showing visible concern. Seto Kaiba never began a sentence with 'uh'.

"I, ah, have already scheduled plans for the 25th. I'm afraid that I'll be unable to attend."

The formality of his words hit hard, causing her face to furrow in concerned confusion. That over-cliched feeling of sinking, the pit in the bottom of her stomach, rumbled up, roaring as a woken dragon might. She bit her lip and Kaiba seemed to flinch subtly.

"What's wrong, darling? Is everything alright?"

Kaiba broke her gaze, eyes flicking away with an aversion uncommon for such a powerful man. His mouth opened a fraction, lips pushing forwards in some kind of half formed discontent. He was frozen in this for a moment before his expression slackened, words deferred.

"Seto, dear?" She pulled up close to him, stretching on her tiptoes to come nearer to his face. Both hands grasped at his shirt and he looked away from her again. "Seto?"

With a shuddering sigh, he placed his hands on her hips. She could feel him lightly trying to push her away, but she resisted, instead forcing herself closer to his body.

"Isis, I have a-"

In a sharp moment Kaiba moved Isis away, widening the space between them by a foot. Yet Isis' hands still clung to his chest intimately.

Ryou's soft brown eyes seemed to darken as they narrowed. His mouth snapped shut, ending the half question he had entered with. Isis took a short breath as she watched her employee's gaze shift from her surprised expression to the way her hands clutched at Seto and finally to Kaiba's face. Much to her surprise Ryou stared openly at Kaiba, meeting the dragon's steely gaze. There was more than just a flicker of recognition that sparked between the locked stares of the two men. Isis watched in half wonder as Ryou's mouth sprung into a tight smirk. In response Kaiba's face paled in stiff, muted rage. Ryou's jaw tightened, hands clenching into fists. She glanced to one of the display cases in the corner of her office where the Millennium Ring rested, gleaming dully in the office's fluorescent light. No indication of a dark spirit, no Yami Bakura or unleashed spirit of a former Priest. The animosity rising between the two men in the room existed entirely in the present, and entirely of their own accord. Isis' lips parted in question, but it took a seemingly infinite moment for words to actually cross her breath.

"Ryou, I'm sure you know my boyfriend, Seto Kaiba. Kaiba, I believe you've met Ryou Bakura before? Or perhaps just his Yami?"

Ryou chuckled darkly, gaze fixed on Kaiba as he shook his head. "No need, Isis. Kaiba and I are well acquainted."

Kaiba remained silent. For a finite second she thought she saw a look of worry cross the man's face. Undoubtedly, Kaiba was paling, white as ice in some kind of clear and frozen anger – or perhaps cracking fear. With every flicker of light that fled Kaiba's expression, Ryou's increased in kilowatts until every feature of his face was bizarrely lit in some kind of internal light. It was beautifully terrifying, and for a moment Isis wondered why she'd never seen the white haired boy's fierce handsomeness. Her thought was distracted then as she felt Kaiba's hands covering hers. A surprised smile leapt to her face and fell just as quickly as Kaiba's calloused hands pulled hers away from his chest, forcing her to finally relinquish his shirt. The silence of shock was almost painful to Isis' ears. Ryou's eyes twitched a fraction more narrow, a decimal more suspicious.

"Well," she finally said, voice pitching higher as her throat tightened," then I suppose there was no need for introductions." A laugh, as fallible as a thinly blown bubble and quickly popped as Isis gasped for air. "What was it you needed, Ryou?"

She could never remember in her life a time that she had seen such a smirk. The beast of a curve was more venomous, more vilely arrogant and superb than Kaiba's had ever been. Isis again glanced nervously to the Millennium Ring. Nothing. Ryou shook his head slowly, the smirk and her gaze not challenging Isis, but Kaiba.

"It's nothing pressing, Isis. I can come back a little later."

No, Isis thought, more disarming than that smirk would be how disarmingly pleasant his voice can still remain. Unprecedented, the way the fear of the soft spoken boy now leered in the back of her mind, or at the corner of her eye. She glanced at Kaiba, who was entirely fixated on Ryou.

"Very well," she managed to press between her lips," How is the clean up going?"

The already hard brown eyes lit up in a secret, internal mirth that just barely spilled over to his voice. "Perfectly." He ducked his head, mirth shifting into an undertone of irony. "Miss Isis. Mister Kaiba."

Isis practically heard Kaiba's hand curl into a fist as Ryou left the office, door slamming with the finality of a judge's gavel. She turned fully to him.

"You and Ryou seem to be on fairly familiar terms," Isis said slowly.

There, again. Kaiba flinched.

"Isis. We need to talk."

An over dramatic eye-roll from Marik was all Bakura got as he emitted an equally dramatic chuckle. Marik was still surprised that he and Bakura – Yami Bakura – happened to get along so well, while Malik was completely intolerant to Ryou's sharp edged doppelganger. The Egyptian boy imagined that it had something to do with the incompatibility between 'master thief' and 'tomb guardian'.

"Ryou's starting to show," Marik said as Bakura's laughter began to subside. However, his comment only put the other boy's laughter into refrain.

"It's about time," Bakura said, words grating over air harshly," I was starting to worry about the family name. How could you tell? Has his voice been cracking much?"

Marik shook his head, eyes rolling again.

"You know what I mean."

Bakura's laughter cut off, his expression suddenly sober, if not perhaps a little agitated.

"And again I say, it's about time. He's been mooning over that girl for nearly a year now; I've just grown sick of hearing her strung out along his thoughts, pinched and flapping like some great white sheet on a laundry line-"

"Please, refrain from bursting into simile in the presence of sane people, Bakura."

"Well it's true, and it's bloody obnoxious, the way he puts her on the top of the flagpole: untouchable, perfect Anzu. I keep telling him he has got to make a move, either before he loses her or I strangle him. Personally I would have, ah, how do you say it now – tapped that – a long time ago, especially if she's even half the way she shows up in those drea-"

Bakura's face snapped then into an expression of vicious glee.

"Oh ho, that's going to hurt," he muttered, shaking his head as Marik began to question.

"You'll see, Ishtar, you'll see tomorrow. But let me tell you, Ryou's angry now, and poised to strike." Bakura stood up, putting down his share of the cost for the pizza they'd split. "When he bites, there will be blood, and there will be venom."

"You bastard."

Seto was still reeling as he tried to figure out which had hit faster and which had hit harder: the fact that Ryou had so boldly stood up to him, or the British boy's fist. Keeling over, Seto's arms curled over his stomach and he dry heaved, barely keeping the contents of his day from spilling over the edge of his gaping mouth. But Seto did not drop the way his attacker would have liked, having caught himself on one knee and thus keeping himself from being prostrated on the sidewalk in front of the enraged Ryou. The attacked was now gasping in for breath and pushing it out with hardly muttered curses.

"You self-righteous, arrogant, duplicitous bastard."

Not thinking it was possible, Seto was surprised by Ryou's increasing vehemence. And he didn't stop.

"Here, I thought maybe I could put a little faith in you," Ryou's voice was ragged, angry, and at the brink of flooding over and losing all control. "I thought, well, if she trusted you, then maybe I could try." The chuckle that ripped from him was nothing but awful. "But, as we now see, I was wrong. She was wrong."

At these words, Seto stood quickly, staggering some as he did but managing to keep his balance. Blue eyes steeled over as his mouth opened sharply. However, nothing came out – Ryou had drawn back to swing again. This time Kaiba would not be taken by surprise. He blocked Ryou's punch, sweeping his forearm across to push the other man's fist away and into the wrought iron rail leading up to the museum entryway.

"She's practically head-over-heels for you, and she doesn't even know it." Here, Ryou's words made Seto pause, his heart involuntarily beating a fraction faster. "And seeing what I did tonight, I know that it needs to stay that way."

Finally baited, Seto lunged forward, a quick jab contacting solidly with Ryou's face. Ryou fell backwards, catching his balance to turn and land another punch deep into Seto's gut.

"I'm not trying to hurt her," Seto managed to grunt, unable to think clearly. Head over heels? For him? No-

"Well, you're doing a God-awful job at it, aren't you Kaiba? What the hell were you thinking? That somehow Anzu would be happy that you were leading her on all the while dating Isis?"

Seto looked up, a slight wash of satisfaction as he saw Ryou, green tinged and covering his injured eye.

"I-"

"You have no right to speak, Kaiba." Ryou's voice was icy, leaving Seto wondering why he could hear his voice even though his own mouth was closed. Seto had never thought someone could so perfectly spit his image back at him, but Ryou was doing a damned good job.

"I told you that if you ever hurt Anzu, I would make you regret it. But I have a feeling that me ripping out your intestines could never make you bleed as much as Anzu would if she ever found out about- about you. About this." Ryou gestured back to the museum, implications clear.

"You have no say in my actions, Bakura," Seto bit back, though his words seemed to lack conviction. He was unnerved.

"You're right Kaiba, I don't. But if what you do involved Anzu, involves hurting Anzu, then I am going to do everything in my power to shut you down."

Seto blinked. Ryou's expression was fierce, the face that Seto had stared down in Isis' office nothing compared to what he was seeing now. Ryou meant it, and Seto knew it. Ryou had once been little more than a soft, transparent facet on Anzu's life. But now, here, he was challenging Seto for everything. The boy's face was lit by the moonlight, the hard glow of the fluorescent streetlights, the flaming anger that leaked out of every pore.

What was worse – what was the worst – was that Seto knew, and could not even begin to deny, that Ryou was right.