The X-Effect

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Malik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

Here's the long (not) awaited chapter 2, here for your enjoyment! I decided to upload this a day or so earlier than planned. So, have the continuation to your supposed cliffhanger which will probably just disappoint you. But, do try and enjoy!

Chapter 2: Breaking Ground

A stream of (angry) Egyptian-Arabic flooded out before Ryou coughed, drawing their attention back to him. The white-haired boy smiled awkwardly, sweat-dropping. "Er, well, it sounds like an, ah, eventful day on your part, Mariku-san… What about you, Malik-kun? You weren't in Literature, I was a bit worried…"

The Egyptian blushed, looking down at the table bashfully. "I… Yeah, I, uh, got sent to the office."

Mariku whistled. "Whoa, little brother, I'm shocked. What did you do?"

"Nothing! I mean…" He huffed. "It's what I didn't do." He almost had a pouting face as he continued, irritated. "I refused to wear a t-shirt in Gym. I wanted to wear my long-sleeve. The teacher got mad and told me to wear short-sleeves and shorts, or else. I said no. So, then came the 'or else' threat: I got sent to the office."

Ryou frowned. "That's weird. Gym's the one place we don't really have much of a uniform code." He paused, silently wondering why the other didn't just wear the t-shirt but figured it wasn't his place to ask.

Bakura apparently did. "Stupid reason to be rebellious, why not just wear the bloody shirt?" He leaned his cheek in his hand, resting his elbow on the table. He was all for rebellion and ignoring teacher orders, but he never did it over really trivial things like that. If he did decide to be rebellious, he probably would've cut the sleeves off with a knife (right in front of them, he would've been sure) and gotten in trouble (read: suspended) for that instead. "What, ashamed of your skinny ass arms or something?"

Malik was silent as he suddenly looked stone faced. After a moment, the look faded and he started laughing. Mariku, who had tensed beside him, slowly relaxed. "Not at all! My arms are gorgeous, thank you," he winked. "It's just too cold, here. I'm not used to it yet. Thin skin. I wouldn't do well in a t-shirt."

"Oh," Yugi remarked from beside him, "that makes sense. Yeah, you came from Egypt too, right?" Malik nodded. "I can imagine the temperature difference would take some getting used to."

"Mmhm." Malik leaned lazily in his hand. "Although the principle seemed to see it my way, once I explained the situation. Although the entire affair took all of fourth period."

"Nee-san's gonna be pissed," Mariku snickered, grinning. "That'll make me searing that kid's arm look like nothing, 'least I didn't get sent to the office!"

The younger Egyptian shot up, shoving his brother angrily as the other started laughing. "Oh, shut up, you psycho! Nee-san isn't going to find out!"

"Haha!" Mariku weakly swatted at his brother who was trying to hit him still. "Oh yes she will, I'm telling her that first thing when we get home!"

"Like hell!" Malik spat. "Not if I tell her that you threw my bag into the fountain-pond first!"

The elder twin spluttered. "What? You better not tell her that, brat! I don't feel like cleaning the stupid house as punishment!"

Malik prodded his finger into his brother's chest angrily. "Well maybe you shouldn't have ruined my math book!"

"I will pay for your stupid book, okay?" Mariku snapped back, slapping away the hand. "Buy you a new one, sheesh!"

Malik didn't look pleased at all. The glare hardened. "Yeah, by selling my possessions."

"Oh, that was one time!"

"No it wasn't!"

Ryou glanced in between the twins, eyes shifting from one to the other as they bickered. He forced an awkward laugh, holding up his hands to try and get their attention. "Uhm, guys? P-please don't fight—" he attempted to talk over their spat, but the two Egyptians didn't even remotely hear him.

"You always do this!" Malik snapped. "I get sick of all your teasing! Like I didn't get enough of that back home!"

Mariku snorted, folding his arms and turning away. "I'm your brother, it's my job to harass you."

"Well then! My job from now on is to make your life living hell," the younger boy seethed before, like Mariku, he crossed his arms and turned away.

Ryou, finally able to get a word in edge wise, forced another laugh. "O-okay then. So it seems the day was… eventful!" He put his fork complete with a piece of melon into his mouth, sweat-dropping. Bakura rubbed his temple, which was beginning to ache.

Yugi sweat-dropped, laughing a bit himself. "Well, nice to see you two get along."

Malik cast a glare over his shoulder and at his brother's head, huffing, before looking back to Yugi. "Swimmingly." He paused for a moment, seeming to think hard about something. "Yugi-san, was it?" A nod. "You look familiar. You happen to have a sibling?"

"Oh! Yes," Yugi nodded with a bright smile. "My older brother, Yami Mutou. You've seen him?"

Malik nodded. "Yeah, he's in my Psychology class… I didn't think much of it then, but when I saw you I knew you were similar."

Yugi laughed. "People actually confuse us a bit, though I'm not sure how. He's taller, though. Maybe it's our hair." (1)

From the other side of Malik, Mariku snorted. Malik turned around (well, more so sat forward at the table) to look at him. The elder twin had turned as well to look at his twin, and was pouting. "Speaking of that!" Mariku began, holding up one finger. "People keep mixing us up already, Mal!"

"Oh, really?" Malik drawled, not really too shocked at the news. "I just can't imagine why. I mean, we're only identical twins."

Mariku looked surprised for a moment before scowling. "Shut up. I mean, come on, we are distinctly different. I'm much more handsome."

"… You look the same as me, dear brother, we're identical."

"Yeah, well, my hair's nicer."

"Now that is debatable."

They glared at each other for a minute before Mariku burst out laughing. He ruffled his twin's hair roughly but affectionately and grinned. Something Ryou didn't understand passed through them— he could tell by their eyes— but then that moment was broken as Mariku loudly announced: "Nope! My hair is softer. Little brother, yours feels like a mess of twigs."

"… Yours looks like a mess of twigs!" Malik retorted, slapping his brother's hand away. "You prick. At least all I have to do in the morning is comb my hair, no gel involved…" Mariku snapped something about 'if I didn't, no one really could tell us apart!' but Malik only ignored him, starting to chat with Ryou again. "Ryou-kun!" He chirped, smiling. "What else do you have for the day?"

"Oh!" The white-haired boy looked momentarily surprised to be addressed but recovered quickly and smiled lightly back. "I have history, painting class, and then band…"

"Ah! So, a music class and painting? That's neat," Malik commented, nodding.

"You paint?" Mariku suddenly piped up, looking almost intrigued. "Huh. Are you good?"

Ryou blushed, looking flustered. "Oh, uh, well, I… I wouldn't say good, per say, I'm no Kuroda Seiki (2), but, er, I'm okay at it?" He sounded hesitant.

The answer seemed good enough to Mariku though, who nodded as he took the information in. He fell silent, so Malik took the wheel. "I have French next," he stated. "I'm sort of excited, although I might be a bit lost in the lesson. I have chemistry right after that."

Bakura stiffened at that, staring at the boy with a distasteful look. "Eighth and ninth period chemistry?" He murmured rhetorically. Malik gave him a questioning gaze, but Bakura just shook his head with a sigh. "Great."

"He's in chemistry that period, too," Ryou explained with a chuckle. "He sounds excited." He gave his brother a not-so-subtle elbow to the side. The sweeter twin's smile never fell. "In fact, because of his excitement, I volunteer him to be your partner." He clapped his hands together once, laughing. "Kura-nii complains often about getting stuck with random people."

Bakura was bristling beside him, casting a dark glare in Ryou's direction. "I prefer to work alone," he hissed. "I'd rather not be stuck with the brat at all." He took his eyes to Malik, the glower darkening, but the Egyptian only shrugged.

"I'd rather not work with you either, but if it works that way I can't really do much about it." Malik lazily closed his eyes for a moment. "Sorry about your luck," he remarked as he opened his eyes again.

"Hmph," Bakura grunted, frowning. "Well, now chemistry will be an entirely new two periods of hell if I have to deal with you."

"Likewise." Violet eyes grew cold but somehow held an air of amusement. After a moment, that was all Bakura could see as the blond smirked. Tristan, who had been talking to the other half of the table up until this point, tuned in with a laugh.

"Well," he began, "sounds like you two got off on the right foot," he joked sarcastically. "Enemies already?"

The blond— Jounouchi, was it?— started to laugh. Mariku mentally noted it was one of the most annoying sounds he'd ever heard. "Does Bakura ever make friends?"

The boy in question only rolled his eyes, sneering. Ryou sweat-dropped, but said nothing. Technically, it was true. Had his brother ever really had someone he could call a "friend"? He barely had acquaintances. Honestly, Jounouchi had a very valid point, and that was a rare occurrence in itself. Bakura didn't make "friends"— he made enemies, foes, and rivals.

"Well, guys, he's our friend even if we're not his," Yugi input cheerfully. Mariku raised an eyebrow at the optimism and Ryou laughed a bit. The sound caught Mariku's attention, looking at him with the same confused expression. Ryou didn't notice, but Bakura did— he glared, a silent message passing between them. The Egyptian looked away with a swish of his head, deciding to find another point of focus. No one else around seemed interesting to him. He slumped, leaning his elbow on the table and setting his cheek in his hand. How boring.

He heard his brother prattling on to Ryou about some class, and Ryou would respond happily. Occasionally, he'd try and drag Bakura into the conversation but the other twin would either give a short and unsatisfactory response or none at all.

Mariku felt his eyelids grow heavy. He was sort of sleepy, and trying to comprehend Japanese all day was really making his brain work overtime. He and his siblings still spoke Egyptian-Arabic back home, although the entire walk to school was a Japanese conversation. They were trying to practice and hide their accents.

He wondered sometimes why they bothered to try and hide the slight differences of pronunciation, seeing as it was painfully obvious they were not Japanese. At all. It was really clear from their sandy blond hair to their violet eyes to their dark tanned skin. Positively nothing screamed Asian.

Mariku decided not to dwell on it. He opened his eyes (apparently he'd closed them during deep thought) and glanced over to his brother. The bell had rung, so the group was getting up to leave. What did he have next again? He took out a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and squinted in an attempt to decipher his handwriting (Katakana was slowly turning into one of his new found enemies). He narrowly avoided crashing into people as he walked, still trying to read.

"I-Ishtar-san!" Ryou suddenly squeaked. "Watch out!"

WHAM.

… Although he did not avoid walls.

The Egyptian twitched, backing up and rubbing his nose. "… Yeah, that thing came out of nowhere. Jumped right out in front of me!" He was suddenly pointing (paper still in hand) dramatically at the wall. "You're like a fucking ninja! I declare a battle, fair wall!"

Malik deadpanned. "Hey. Hey," he called, attempting to catch his moronic brother's attention. "Psychopath. You're holding a conversation with plaster and bricks. You're aware of that, right?"

"… Holy hell! By Ra, you're right!" Mariku cupped his chin, now looking contemplative— exaggeratedly so. "An astounding observation! A wall made of bricks, who ever would've thought. Clever deduction, Watson!"

"Excuse me?"

Ryou was giggling, hand covering his mouth. "Malik-kun, I didn't think your brother was so … silly," he admitted with another laugh.

Malik snorted. "Stupid is more like it— or over-dramatic. Take your pick." He eyed his brother to make sure he didn't actually hit his head (brain-damage would be hard to explain to their siblings) before starting to walk out of the cafeteria. Ryou followed with Mariku right beside him and Bakura skulking on the other side.

Mariku seemed fine though, as he finally figured out his handwriting with a triumphant 'got it!' soon following. Malik looked at him like he was insane before rolling his eyes. "See you, 'Riku." He waved and was off up the stairs to French class.

"Yup, see ya Mal," his twin called after him with a wave. Eventually, he had to part ways with the Bakura twins (which sounded so funny in his head, seeing as Bakura was… well, called Bakura instead of his first name that he still didn't know of yet). He had gym next. Wandering the hallway, gym bag slung over his shoulder, he found the gymnasium after standing there, staring angrily at the katakana sign (still an enemy) for a minute. He trudged into the locker room and hoped that not many people would be in there.

Luckily, no one was. Mariku sighed in relief, pulling his shirt off and changing as quick as he could. He just pulled his pants up and was tying the waist string when he was met with a familiar face plodding down the locker room steps. Bakura was staring at him with an almost confused but irritated face. Mariku smirked. "Hey, Cloudy 'Kura! We meet again."

Pale features fell into a scowl. "You two are way more trouble than you're worth," he murmured bitterly, almost tempted to murder the other boy for the newly founded nickname. He decided it just wasn't worth the jail-time. He skulked to his locker and grabbed his clothes out, casting an unwary look to Mariku as he did. "Long-sleeves?"

"Uh-huh." Mariku crossed his arms, more so nonchalantly than in a means of confrontation, and leaned against the wall. He watched Bakura pull off his shirt, but looked away after a moment. He glanced over to the locker room entrance, thinking. "What's the class like? We never did PE. Is it strenuous?"

"Depends on how in shape you are," Bakura replied absently as he tugged his blue t-shirt on, soon enough pulling on his black pants too. He pulled out a hair-tie and actually tied his hair back into a low ponytail. Mariku frowned, looking either disproving or confused. Bakura couldn't tell. "… What?"

"You tie your hair back?" Mariku asked slowly. He was curious; now Bakura could place that emotion he saw in the Egyptian's face.

"Have to. It's dress code," he replied simply.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Bakura motioned absently for the boy to follow along as he exited the locker room. "I bet your little sister has to tie it back, too." He smirked and burst into coarse laughter when Mariku growled at him, prodding the other teen in the chest.

"Oy! So he's kind of feminine, leave him be," he snapped defensively. " … At least his hair doesn't reach his back!"

"What? Hey!"

Bakura growled but Mariku just started laughing as they walked around the gymnasium. Shockingly, Bakura discovered that they were pretty similar. Little brother couldn't handle himself. Everyone around them was a moron. No hesitation to throw a punch existed, because violence solved (almost) every problem. Video games were awesome, and bloody gory movies were the best things ever invented in cinema. Debate was held over the number one horror movie, but other than that Mariku and Bakura both were surprised at how well they actually got along.

They teamed up during gym when the teacher decided to have them play basketball and utterly annihilated the other group they were against. Mariku got yelled at for hitting a kid in the face (once with the ball and once with his elbow), although he argued vehemently it was on accident. Bakura was just laughing his ass off until Mariku threw the ball in his face. How he managed to avoid detention, neither were sure.

Gym ended pretty fast. Bakura ignored all the other boys as he changed, but Malik seemed to hesitate. He would look at the faces of the others, watching as they filtered out to wait for the bell, and would just tug at his shirt collar every now and then.

"Are you going to change?"

Bakura's voice brought Mariku out of his stupor. Glancing over, he smirked. "Why? Want to see my chest?"

An eye roll. It was then the Egyptian noticed the white-haired boy was already changed into his uniform again. "Hardly… But if you keep standing there, the bell will ring and you'll end up late."

"I don't really care for punctuality, and I never thought I'd hear the lecture about it from you," Mariku admitted honestly, crossing his arms. His eyes trailed across the locker room, still occupied by a few lingering boys. They were taking too long for his liking.

"Just change, will you?" Bakura finally grunted, leaning on the lockers. "I'm beginning to wonder if you have as many insecurities as your brother."

Mariku glared. "Shut up." He noticed that, finally, almost everyone had filtered out. He grabbed his clothes and, to Bakura's surprised, walked over to a protruding wall (leading back to the showers, which were rarely ever used anyway) and slid behind it. Bakura couldn't see him. The Egyptian's shirt was tossed out after a moment, causing Bakura to raise his eyebrow, before pants followed and then so did a changed Mariku. He scooped the somewhat sweaty clothes up and shoved them into his locker. The bell rang just as he set his lock. "Perfect timing."

"This better not be a daily occurrence," Bakura remarked as they strode up the stairs and out of the locker room. "What are you going to do when it starts getting warmer here? You'll end up with a heat-stroke, you moron."

"Nah." Mariku glanced at the piece of paper in his hand again before shoving it into his pocket again. "I'm good up until about 42° C, then I start getting out of it." He nodded a few times. "Anyway. I'm off to study hall. Try not to kill my little brother, you hear? Otherwise I'll have to kill you!" He grinned (only half-joking), waving, and was soon strolling off in the other direction. Bakura grunted something about 'no promises' and started towards the Tech Wing.

Chemistry was going to be hell.

AUTHOR NOTES:

(1) He's older, so he's taller in this (deal with it). How much taller is up to you, but I'd picture him probably a hair taller than Bakura (just enough to hang it over his head, gloating).

(2) A Japanese painter. He's the one who introduced the impressionism movement into Japan.

Hopefully a bit longer for you! The relationships between friends are finally starting to develop, yes~ ? I have so much fun writing Mariku, he's such a silly moron. Although I can't wait to get to his less-than-pleasurable personality traits. That will come later, however.

Read & Review & Critique please!