The X-Effect

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Malik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

Oh gosh, I was so over-due with this! I'm really sorry, everyone. I had a lot of trouble getting this to progress the way I wanted to and my wrist was hurting for the longest time, no thanks to some early on-set arthritis or tendonitis!

Anyway, so I hope you all aren't mad I took so long. Like I said, this part was never really… planned. It was really a last-minute decision so working everything in the way I want it to be is sort of annoying and difficult.

But! Regardless, I hope it suits your fancy and it's not too bad…

Chapter 7: Dark Alleys and a Bad Idea

Malik had to walk home by himself, since his brother had decided to spontaneously try-out for football. He supposed he could've waited at the field, watched his brother break some (other players') bones and then walked home with him, but it wasn't exactly his idea of "fun." He didn't want to hang around that late and he knew that, somehow, Mariku would drag him into trying out and that would not go over well at all.

So, he stopped by the field quick to tell his brother he was leaving before shuffling off down the road on the long path towards his home.

He should really invest in a cheap bicycle or something, because walking always took forever. How much were bikes, anyway? Well, he was walking through the city anyhow. He should check. It wasn't like anyone would be home anyway, so he didn't have to rush or anything…

Shifting his bag on his shoulder, he sighed, glancing around the various shops that lined the streets. None seemed to have anything but clothes, nothing that even hinted at a bicycle. A shirt had a bicycle on it, but he decided that didn't count. He couldn't use that for transportation, although that was vastly cheaper more than likely.

Another sigh.

It'd take too long to find a bike store, and he didn't have money anyway. It was easier to just go home. He glanced down an alleyway, noting a street sign on the other side that he recognized— he could save a few minutes by cutting through here, instead of walking around the block. Without another thought, the blond boy started down in, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

'I wonder if I have everything I need for tonight. Let's see, I had science homework, literature notes to go over…'

His train of thought was cut short by a loud bang erupting from the nearby garbage cans, cardboard boxes, and dumpster. Malik raised an eyebrow, going to turn around and check it out (probably just a cat) when he felt a strong hand grab his arm. "Wha—?"

"Well! Look who we have here," a throaty and somewhat oddly pitched voice growled. "If it isn't Ishtar."

Malik paled. He knew that voice, and he knew it well. He glanced up and managed a small, awkward smile. "Uh, hey Takanaka, er, san…" He regarded the taller and leaner boy with a wary eye. Takanaka wasn't exactly the most muscular of the men (and as young as he looked, he certainly wasn't a "boy" seeing as he was almost 24) that worked alongside the Ishtar twins at the museum, but he had the agility to make up for it— that, and a wicked left hook and grip. Sometimes Malik wondered how the green-haired man could even see to hit somebody in general with that mop of hair flailing around in his face.

The black and blue bruise situated around his right eye brought out the anger in those yellow irises, and Malik knew that this wasn't going to be good. Takanaka looked furious and ready to fight. Mariku had, obviously, gotten into a brawl with him (hadn't that been why he came home early the one day?) and gave him one hell of a black eye. Though if that was true, then why was Takanaka talking to h… Oh.

'Shit. Shit. He thinks I'm Mariku—!'

"L-Listen!" Malik started quickly, trying to squirm out of Takanaka's grasps. "I, er, you got the wrong guy, it's-it's not me you want—" He managed to pull his arm away and back up, holding his one hand up defensively while the other clutched at his bag strap.

Takanaka only laughed and took a step forward. Malik matched it by backing up, but the man kept that smirk on his face. "I think I know your face, Ishtar," he spat, smirk falling and contorting into a dark scowl. Most of it was hidden by his bangs. "Hard to forget such an ugly mug. Change your hair all you like, I'd recognize you a mile away."

"S-seriously! Takanaka, you want my brother! My twin! We-we're identical, remember? We're twins, right?" Malik pleaded (god he hated that but the situation was calling for it), but it was falling on deaf ears. More backing up matched by stepping forward. Malik swallowed nervously and felt his skin crawl as his back hit the wall.

This wasn't good at all.

(-)

Malik practically broke the door throwing it open and then slamming it shut as he came home. It took an extra hour to get back and by now, Ishizu was home. Said black-haired woman looked up from the book she was reading on the couch as she heard one of her brothers come in. Frowning, she was about to chide him for all the noise until the blond actually made his appearance— and she saw his appearance.

"Malik!" She gasped, shooting up and rushing over to him. The book fell off the couch, forgotten and closed, as Ishizu grasped at her baby brother's face and shoulders, checking him over. "What happened? Are you okay?"

The blond blew a strand of hair out of his face, irritably glaring at nothing in particular. "Oh, I'm just peachy," he seethed sarcastically. "No I'm not okay! I hate genetics, they can go to hell!" He announced childishly, almost pouting. "I got beat-up because of that crap! You know how 'Riku got into that fight with Takabaka? Yeah, well, I took a shortcut to get home—don't give me that look— and apparently he was being a creeper and hiding behind a dumpster or something for some creeper reason and he thought I was Mariku so he creepily jumped me and beat me up!" Malik finished the angry rant by tossing his bag to the floor, glaring at it as if the entire ordeal had been its fault.

Ishizu was wiping dirt off his clothes now, combing his hair worriedly as she looked over him. "Ohh, dear… That boy is so much trouble!"

"Takabaka?" Malik provided. His sister frowned.

"Don't call him that, it's rude— and no, your brother." Ishizu sighed and begun to delicately push Malik towards the bathroom so she could properly look over him. "How many times have I told you not to take shortcuts? What if you got stabbed or kidnapped or something? What would I do then?"

"Sis."

She ignored him, continuing to prattle on as she basically shoved her bother down the hall. "I can't believe this. You don't have a concussion or anything, right? Is your vision blurry? Are you aware of any bleeding?"

"Sis."

"Why were you alone anyway? He is supposed to walk home with you! If he ditched you, I swear to the Gods—"

"Sis! Calm down!" Malik ordered as she forced him to sit on the oddly placed stool in the bathroom. She finally quit talking, although she looked incredibly annoyed at being interrupted. Malik ignored the face. "I'm not dying, relax. My vision's not blurry, I don't have a concussion, and I'm not bleeding profusely or anything— I just got some cuts and a few bruises."

Ishizu may of got a few of her questions answered, but she suddenly looked almost scarily furious. "And why exactly wasn't your brother with you?"

'Gack! That look she's giving me…! I feel like I'll burst into a pile of ashes—' "He has football try-outs today after school and I didn't want to wait for him," Malik explained cautiously.

"Well, he— wait, football? What happened to lacrosse?"

"… Ask him about that one."

Ishizu just shook her head, sighing. "Sometimes he's more stress than he's worth," she mumbled. She was swiping at Malik's face with a wet rag now, absently clicking her tongue in disapproval as the dirt and blood washed off. After a moment she gently ran her thumb over his forehead, frowning. "It looks like you're swelling up a bit, here. A goose egg."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess I'm not surprised," Malik replied, glancing up with his eyes as if he could actually see the growing bump on his forehead. "He was throwing punches and the one time I ducked to avoid a black-eye, he hit me in the forehead instead," he explained with a shrug. "In retrospect, probably a worse idea." 'Can't that rattle your brain or something? Well, even if it can I probably shouldn't tell her that…'

Ishizu turned to the cabinet and begun getting out some band-aids and a bottle of alcohol to wash out a few of the cuts. When she turned back around to continue tending to him, she was frowning and shaking her head once more. "Well, do you feel okay?"

"Yeah." The blond boy nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just some superficial things, I'm sure," Malik stated absently as he looked over his arms with a curious glance. "Nothing feels broken or anything."

"Good." Ishizu gave her own nod, placing a few band-aids on her youngest brother's face. "That's one good thing at least. Is anything else bleeding or—?"

The front door opened and Ishizu, having ears like cat, heard it immediately as she turned to listen. She narrowed her eyes a bit as it shut and then, finally, a voice called out: "Hey! I'm home!"

Sister instincts proved right: Mariku had returned. She glanced absently to Malik from the corner of her eye, murmuring, "Stay here." She walked out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Mariku's voice, muffled, was heard before suddenly Ishizu's—loud and clear— snapped overtop.

'He's not gonna hear the end of this for awhile,' Malik mused to himself, tugging his jacket and shirt off. He probably had some cuts on his arms, considering the way certain places were vaguely burning. He looked over them with a bored eye, lips pursed in thought. 'Stupid identical DNA.'

"He what—? He got beat up!"

The bathroom door was suddenly pushed open the rest of the way. Mariku was in the doorway, looking his twin up and down with a whistle. "Damn, you did! Huh. Well, on the bright side, I think I'm on the team!" Mariku announced with a grin, switching the topic entirely.

Malik bristled. "I got beat up because of you, you know," he commented dryly.

"Oh." Mariku shrugged dismissively. "Sorry, bro. Anyway," his expression brightened a bit, "I got told that my skills are impeccable and I got a great shot at being some awesome position!"

"Good for you," Malik muttered, about to cross his arms but thinking twice of it. With a sigh, he just grabbed the rag and begun to wash off his arms a bit and did his best to ignore his brother. Ishizu was suddenly behind his twin, shoving him unceremoniously out of the way with a reprimanding glare at him. She snatched the rag from Malik and kept cleaning him up, every now and then turning to give a nasty look to the older twin. Mariku didn't notice and only leaned on the doorframe.

Randomly, the spiky-haired twin spoke up: "Hey, is this a bad or a good time to say I got detention by the way?"

Ishizu jolted a bit before turning around, hands on her hips— if looks could kill. "Honestly!" She exclaimed, exasperated as she glared harshly at him. "Can you behave for once in your life?"

"… So it's a bad time, then—"

"Go do your homework!" Ishizu threw the rag at him, huffing. Mariku dodged the offending object easily and sweat-dropped, awkwardly leaving the bathroom as Malik started to laugh. His family was weird.

(-)

The next day, Bakura couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

It started when he woke up. He was used to knocking the alarm off the nightstand because that was a daily occurrence. Today? It broke. When it fell, it managed to hit "just right" on its side and it legitimately broke apart. He grabbed the remains and went to throw them out, but Ryou said he "knew someone who could fix it" since they couldn't afford a new one. If he said so. Now it sat awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen table, distracting him from his tea.

The feeling of "impending doom" only got worse as the twins walked to school. Nothing happened, no, but the weird squirming in his stomach was beginning to get unsettling. Ryou must've picked up on it, for he voiced at least some concern if Bakura was feeling sick, but didn't press it once the other boy said he was fine— a lie if there ever was one (and there were plenty).

When Bakura walked into the classroom of first period by himself (Ryou insisted on hanging out with Yugi and crew), he was met with a familiar sight: Mariku was sitting on the nearby desk, prattling on about "I am sorry, my gods, you freaking brat— accept the apology already!" while Malik moodily glared at him and snapped his replies as he crossed his arms.

Raising an eyebrow, Bakura walked over. "What's got your guitar out of tune?" He asked, unable to resist a cocky smirk. Malik turned and glared at him— it was then Bakura noticed the bandages and bruises. 'Well, well, aren't we just two peas in a pod?'

"At the moment? You," Malik retorted icily.

"It's not even the beginning of class and you're already in a bad mood. That's a record," Bakura snorted as he sat down in his seat, throwing his feet up on top of the desk as he leaned back casually. "What's wrong with your face, anyway? Not that that's entirely unusual considering there's always something wrong." He paused, looking over the blonde with a calculating eye. "Your brother beat you up, too?"

"Shut up," Mariku quickly but calmly hissed, sliding off the desk almost as if to size up the other boy. "I don't hit my brother."

'That was oddly defensive.' "Calm down," Bakura instead said smoothly. "Don't over-react. Hmph… that must run in the family."

Malik, barely hearing the insults that had been thrown at him, only scowled. "No, I was on my way home and because somebody pissed off someone else and I just happen to look exactly like the somebody, that someone beat me up because that actual somebody made me go home alone!" Violet eyes narrowed and were taken back to Mariku, who glared back and crossed his arms.

"Oh, get over it, okay? I apologized way more than I should've already," the elder twin commented dryly. "He should be able to tell us apart anyway… Does no one look at our hair, for Ra's sake?"

"He thought that 'I' just wore it down so that he'd think 'I' was 'you.'"

The other Egyptian boy's nose scrunched. "He over-thought that one too much."

"Shocking, isn't it."

Bakura only shook his head, noticing he had been pretty much opted out of the conversation at that moment. Deciding he didn't want to be ignored, he chimed back in: "So, you got beat up the same day I got beat up, and Mariku was pretty much the cause of both of our injuries…" He smirked, starting to bark a coarse laugh as Mariku suddenly looked both furious and almost flustered at the same time.

"Shut up, or else I'll give you a black-eye too!" Mariku snapped, slamming his hands onto the desk in frustration. He looked ready to make true to his words (and further the point that he was the source of all injuries) when Ryou walked into the room, chirping his greeting to the two Egyptians. Mariku muttered something under his breath and sat down, crossing his arms irritably again. Ryou glanced the boy, slightly concerned, before he took his eyes to Malik.

"Good morning, Malik-kun. Is everything okay? It seems very tense in here today," the white-haired teen commented tentatively as he glanced back to Mariku. He smiled wanly as he returned his gaze to the other Egyptian twin, before suddenly gasping. "Oh my! Your face! What happened?"

Malik rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, laughing a bit. "Oh. Uh, g'mornin', Ryou… I just ran into a bit of trouble, it's nothing."

Ryou frowned, setting his bag on the desk. "That's no good. You're all right, yes?"

"Oh, yeah, I just got a few bruises and—" Malik lifted one side of his bangs, showing the large blue and black bump that was messily covered with a band-aid, "— this goose-egg."

The fawn-eyed boy shook his head, frown deepening. "That's terrible, Malik-kun…"

A snort. "Kind of looks like he got into a fight with a table, doesn't it?"

"Bakura!"

Malik only smirked. "If that's what I look like, then it's what he looks like as well."

The mahogany eyes narrowed dangerously before Bakura returned with his own cocky smirk. "Ah. Touché." He waved a hand absently. "At least with my table fight, I won."

"Oh, fuck you," the blond boy seethed, but the only response he got was the rough sound of the British teen's laugh. Bakura wasn't going to let that go, he was sure.

By the time Chemistry had come and gone, Malik was at least somewhat proud to be right. Bakura hadn't just given up the teasing. All throughout chemistry, the white-haired boy continually "warned" Malik of the "approaching" tables and to "be wary of their deadly corners."

Malik was fine ignoring him until the "suave English boy" actually tripped him and the Egyptian fell to the floor. He didn't get a cut or bruise thankfully (he wasn't paper-thin skinned after all) but it did serve for more of Bakura's amusement. Malik flipped him off and later shut Bakura's hand in the desk drawer.

They called it "even" at that point.

(-)

Again.

It was bugging him again.

That feeling Bakura had earlier? It was still there. It was far past the end of the school day now (something he had barely noticed passed by), Bakura was sitting at home and the gnawing sensation in his stomach wouldn't go away. Now it was hard to distinguish if he was A) going crazy and simply imagining things, or B) something was going to happen. It had started almost practically before he even woke up and when he was in school, it got worse. It was a bit better now, but as he sat and thought about the day he couldn't think of one time that he didn't recall that odd churning in his stomach.

A loud clattering brought Bakura from his thoughts. Rising to his feet, the older twin wandered into the kitchen. He was met with a sight he wished he could say was unfamiliar: Ryou looking upset, ready to cry, and frustrated all at once, his hand dribbling a thin line of blood, and shards of plates scattered around his feet.

"You're a klutz," the older twin remarked bitterly, sweeping the glass up absently into the dustpan. He thought taking his mind off everything would help, but the feeling didn't go away as he helped to pick up the shards (carefully). "What even happened?"

"S-sorry," Ryou replied meekly, holding his hand under the running water. It was still bleeding a bit. "I just spaced out, I guess, and when I dropped one plate I freaked out and dropped the other two. I cut myself trying to clean up…" He blushed, frowning as he bit his lip. "Do you think mother will be angry?"

"Maybe," Bakura remarked truthfully. "We have like, what, nine plates left now? Meh. Hey, who knows, she might not even realize we're missing some."

"Nine? A strange number… No, no. She'll notice." Ryou sighed, examining his finger. "The cut's not too deep, at least I don't think it is. Doubtful I'll need stitches."

"Good, because I wouldn't drive you to the hospital." Bakura stood up, cracking his back, and glanced over the floor. "I think I cleaned everything u—"

The phone ringing caused Ryou to jump, letting out a squeak, which in turn caused Bakura to become surprised. He dropped the dustpan and it clattered noisily to the ground, the shards flying all over the floor once more. Scowling darkly, Bakura glared at the mess as if it was its fault entirely and it would magically pick itself up before apologizing profusely and dumping itself into the trash. While his twin held a staring contest with the glass, Ryou calmed himself and moved quickly to the phone (making sure to avoid the shards yet again).

"H-hello?" The younger twin breathed, still slightly flustered. "Ba, uh, Bakura residence. Ryou Bakura speaking… Oh? Hello, what are you calling f…" The mahogany fawn eyes suddenly seemed confused. "Do we get the what? …Oh, I understand now. Yes, we do, why?" The white-haired boy wandered over to the table where that day's mail sat. He riffled through it absently, looking thoughtful. Bakura, now intrigued, was staring at his brother with a raised brow. Ryou ignored him. "It's right here. What did you… Oh, for that store? Yeah, I think we get an ad for that."

"Ad for what?" Bakura chimed in, wandering over and ignoring the mess.

Ryou glared. "Shh! … Oh, no, not you, just Bakura-nii."

"Who are you talking to?"

"Bakura, shh!" Ryou snapped again, turning his back to his brother who glared darkly at him. "I'm sorry. You were saying? … Ah, okay, well the ad is right here. Did you want it? I can save it for you… Monday? All right. I can do that, it's good until next week… Hm? Oh, all right. Goodbye and have a nice evening." Ryou awkwardly hung up, staring at the phone with an almost perplexed look.

Bakura, tired of being ignored, tapped his foot just a bit louder on the ground, which finally snapped Ryou out of his thoughts as he turned around. Bakura rolled his eyes, "So, who was that?"

"It was just Otogi-san," Ryou replied, frowning. "He was calling to see if we got a specific ad since he doesn't always get the paper. I told him he could have ours but I think he's giving it away to someone… I think he mentioned a name, perhaps it was Ishtar-san—"

"Ryou."

"What?"

"Say it with me. Ma-ri-ku."

Ryou looked indignant. "I will call him whatever I so please," he remarked, turning heel to go pick the glass that had now been dropped twice.

"I told you, he doesn't deserve the level of respect you give him," the older twin snapped. "And don't touch the glass— you'll cut yourself again, idiot." He crouched down and snatched the dustpan and hand broom from his brother. Ryou frowned but said nothing as he stood back up, hands on his hips with his lips pursed in thought.

"Don't drop it this time," Ryou commented absently. Bakura twitched, glaring over his shoulder at his twin.

"Look who's talking," came the dry remark.

Ryou ignored it and continued to pull out dishes to get ready for dinner, more carefully than he had before. 5 minutes passed and Bakura was just about to stand up and throw away the finally cleaned up glass… until, that is, the screech of a ringing telephone broke through the silence.

This time when it went off, Bakura didn't jump but instead slammed the dustpan down onto the ground and stood up, grabbing the phone angrily. "Yes, hello, what is it?"

"… If you're going to answer it like that, you should've let me do it. How rude."

"Ryou, shut up!" Bakura snapped before glaring at the wall, indirectly hoping whoever was on the other line would burst into ashes. "Whoever this is, hurry up. I don't have time for this. My little brother's hand is bleeding—"

"Actually it's not—

"—There is glass all over the floor—"

"Well maybe if you hadn't slammed the dustpan—"

"—And we are trying to make dinner," Bakura finished in frustration, glaring daggers at his repeatedly interrupting brother. "So make this quick."

['… Wow, I didn't even get a word in and you're already mad at me?']

Bakura's stomach churned as he grit his teeth. "Oh great, it's you." 'Malik, of course.' "What the hell do you want?"

['No need to be snippy, geez… Could I talk to Ryou?']

"No."

['Hand the phone off, Cloudy, I need to ask him something about literature class tomorrow.']

Bakura growled. "Great, good to hear you're picking up your moronic brother's lovely nicknaming habit," he hissed. "Ryou can't talk, I already told you he's bleeding—"

['Well you really shouldn't answered the phone then, now should you.']

The white-haired boy fell silent, face a mix of confusion and anger that made Ryou laugh a bit (inwardly, anyway).

Malik wasn't done. ['That'd be sort of like me answering the phone while I was fighting off a burglar and being like: Dammit Bakura, I can't talk at the moment I am fighting for my life right now!'] A small pause. ['Yeah, see, it makes no sense. I mean, answering machines were invented for a reason, right?'] (1)

Bakura scowled darkly and shoved the phone at Ryou without another word, simultaneously dropping to the ground and his knees to finally pick up the glass. Ryou fumbled with the phone, blinking, and took it carefully to his ear. "Judging by my brother's words,I'm going to assume this is Malik-kun?"

['And for another thi— Oh, Ryou-kun! Hey! Sorry. Uh, I have a question. Bakura thinks it's about literature, but it's not, so play along. Did my brother call you?']

Ryou raised a brow. "No, he didn't… do that in the story," the white-haired twin added.

['Ugh. I wonder who he did call then… I'm getting kind of, uh, worried about him— that goes with you to your grave, by the way. He's been acting strange since we got off from work a few days ago. I think he's up to something. I tried confronting him and he said that I'm imagining it. But, I know there's something going on. He's sneaking around.']

"That sounds worrisome," Ryou remarked quietly, setting the (in-tact) plates on the dining table. He frowned slightly, absently watching Bakura out of the corner of his eye as the other boy finished cleaning. "Sneaking around, huh. The book is… taking a plot-twist. I haven't read that far."

['You're good at that… But, I don't know. Maybe it is just me,'] Malik mumbled with a sigh. Ryou could just imagine him running his hand through his bangs and tugging at them. ['Well, that aside I guess, thanks. Sorry for bothering you. Uhm, is your hand okay?']

"Hm? Oh, yes, it's fine. My brother was over-exaggerating," Ryou laughed a little, looking at his finger while he did. "It's not bleeding anymore, and it wasn't that bad before, anyway. I think he'd be a good novelist with the way he spins things."

Malik laughed. ['If you say so…']

Bakura tuned out Ryou's conversation, dumping the glass bitterly into the trashcan. He made a point to slam it, but his twin simply ignored him and went about chatting with Malik. He felt his teeth grit together every now and then, mostly when Ryou would start laughing. Eventually, the younger twin bid his goodbye and hung up the phone a little happier than he was earlier. He liked talking to friends.

They ate dinner between the two of them, for their mother hadn't come home (when the phone rang for the third time that night, it being Michie to say she was working late, Ryou was glad he managed to grab the phone first). For the most part, it was silent. Ryou attempted to stir up conversation but it didn't work. It fell back into silence every time, Bakura barely responding if he decided to at all. Eventually, the younger twin gave up. Bakura cleaned up the dishes, not wanting his brother so much as near the objects lest he broke more.

Ryou didn't mind and just opted to treat himself to some ice cream they had in the freezer. He was more than content with it and he happily sat down on the couch to watch a movie before bed. He was in a fine mood, really.

His brother didn't share the sentiment.

Bakura ended up going to bed early, because that feeling in his stomach was worse almost to the point now that he felt sick and nauseous. Either something seriously bad was going to happen or… well, he didn't even know— that fact made his gut churn even more. With a shake of his head, he tried his best to ignore it as he nestled into bed and drew the covers up over his shoulder. He closed his eyes, breathing a sigh, and tried to let his thoughts clear.

Tomorrow was a new day, after all.

(-)

It was still there.

Still there, still there, still freaking there.

Malik let out a cry of frustration and tossed his school jacket to the ground. "This is annoying, that stupid blood stain is not coming out!"

He was talking to an empty house and that fact let him yell as much as he want— and was he, indeed, because he was so untimely angry he could barely fathom it at this point.

With an indignant snort, the blond glared darkly at the blue jacket that was lying in a mess on the floor. When Takanaka had beaten him up, he actually got a bad cut on his hand that had stopped bleeding by the time he got home, mostly because he had wrapped it up angrily in the inside of his jacket. The blood had stuck there but luckily not seeped through, although it was bothering Malik to no end now. It wasn't coming out and he had washed it at least three times now. The entire ordeal had taken up almost his whole day. It was mid-afternoon now. A perfect (more or less) Saturday—wasted.

"Stupid Takabaka," Malik hissed as he glared at the jacket.

It wouldn't magically become clean, he realized this, but he had tried everything he could think of and the blood was not coming out.

He fumbled through their chemical cabinet (why did it not have a lock? Seriously, who would leave this open and free with a person like Mariku around— he'd have to talk to his sister about that one) for stain removers. The three they had (two too many, if you asked him but regardless) did nothing. He almost was tempted to bleach it, but upon spilling a few drops onto the carpet, which in turn instantly became white (that got covered up) he realized it would be a bad idea in the long run.

Malik had even went into Rishid's room and used his elder brother's computer to research possibly "home remedies" or even things that other people recommended that he could go out and buy. Nothing he found "home-wise" worked (although he did manage to use up all the spice, Ishizu was not going to be happy when she figured that out) and all the products he found online he rationalized were no better than what he had in the cupboard.

All in all?

He gave up.

"Maybe if I get a blue marker…" Malik's train of thought didn't progress past that (which could be considered a good thing) once he heard the door handle jiggle. He glanced over his shoulder, waiting for it to open. It didn't. The only thing that happened was the sudden loud pounding of someone more than likely slamming their fist and demanding entry. Raising an eyebrow, he turned and walked over, peering out the peephole.

Mariku stood on the other side, looking frustrated as ever. He kicked the door this time, growling, "Openthe door, you idiot! I know you can hear me!"

Malik rolled his eyes. For the third time that week, Mariku had forgotten his keys. Grabbing the doorknob, he twisted it and skirted back just enough to let his brother slam the door into the wall angrily. "You seem happy."

His twin didn't respond, only threw his coat onto the rack carelessly. After a moment, he strode into the kitchen and sat down at the table, head in his chin. "Why are the laundry detergents and crap all out?" he asked, sounding bored as he examined the containers of cleaners on the counter and table. He picked up one of the 'home remedies' that Malik had construed, eyeing it skeptically. "What's this?"

"I was doing laundry," Malik snapped, snatching the bottle from his brother with a glare.

The other twin looked puzzled as he seemed to forget about the strange concoction he had just been holding. "In the kitchen?"

"Shut up!" Malik retorted, huffing as he went to the closet door in the hall and shoved the chemicals onto the shelf. "I was carrying them around and accidentally left them in there, okay?" The blond justified weakly, striding back into the kitchen. Mariku only rolled his eyes, not looking amused in the least.

"Yeah, okay," he replied absently with a wave of his free hand. "Did you happen to do my dirty clothes too, then?"

"Do them yourself."

"What? You prick."

"Bum."

"Jerk."

"Lazy ass— okay, no, are we really going to do this?" Malik finally snapped, exasperated after only a few volleys of insults.

"Well, you started it," Mariku retorted off-handedly. He fell silent regardless, eyes trailing to the newspaper that lay crumpled on the table before him. "What happened to this thing? Looks like it got put through the shredder before finding its way into a blender …"

"It fell to the floor and got caught under the chair without my noticing," Malik replied absently, glaring at his brother from the corner of his eye. "You're in a bad mood."

Mariku let out a groan, tugging angrily at his bangs for a moment before heaving a deep sigh. "It's just…" he hesitated for the briefest moment, "work. You know how it is."

"Another ornery customer?" Malik questioned, hoping to see if maybe a reoccurring and obnoxious patron was the reason his brother had been so off lately. It had happened before.

"No. I mean, yes. Well, sort of," Marik rambled for a moment. "There's been quite a few, but that's not the reason really." He shrugged absently, leaning back in the chair and kicking his feet up onto the table and crossing them. Malik glared and motioned for him to put them down. He was ignored. "Hey, do you think Ishizu and Rishid will ever buy a car or something?"

"A car?" The younger twin mimicked, glancing over with a bemused expression. "We can barely afford the mortgage and insurance, let alone a car payment and its insurance on top of it. We don't really need one anyway, we all work right in town. We can walk or carpool like our siblings do."

His brother made no remark other than grunt. He clasped his hands behind his head, looking up to the ceiling thoughtfully. "Hey, Mal?"

Malik glanced over skeptically but said nothing.

Mariku continued anyway. "Do you talk to that Ryuji character at all?"

"Ryuji?"

"The kid who keeps hitting on you? What was it… Er, Otogi. That's it— his surname, it's Otogi," Mariku absently waved a hand. "Him. Do you talk to him?"

"No," Malik admitted as he raised a brow. "I really don't. You're on a first name basis with him, I see?"

"Sort of. Forgot his last name mostly. So, you don't talk to him at all?"

"Generally that's what 'no' represents in response to the context of that question," Malik replied, turning his nose up just a bit. "No, I don't talk to Otogi. Our paths don't really cross. Why do you ask?"

His brother only shrugged. "No reason."

"You always have a reason," Malik pointed out dryly, turning towards the cabinets and beginning to fumble through them for some rice. Once he found it, he pulled the bag down and washed his hands absently before he begun to cook. "So, come on, why did you bring him up?"

Mariku's eyes narrowed and suddenly, he had slammed his hands on the table and stood up. Malik jumped and turned around, surprised to see his brother looking furious. Mariku snarled, "Shut up, okay? Maybe I'm just fucking curious about something, do I always haveto explain this shit to you? I don't always have to have a reason for things!"

Taken back, Malik blinked, carefully examining his twin. "Hey… Calm down, 'Riku," he started slowly, holding his one hand up defensively as the other groped to turn the faucet off. "I was just saying, all right—"

"Maybe I was, too! You don't know everything, okay! Leave me alone!"

Malik watched Mariku storm out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and back to their bedroom before loudly slamming the door. The younger twin stood there, dishtowel in hand, and eyebrows knit together in worry. Something was either seriously wrong already or something seriously wrong was going to happen.

Malik suddenly missed his mother because, just as suddenly, he felt like one.

With a sigh, he hung the towel back up and begun to get out the pot for the rice.

He only hoped Mariku didn't do something he'd regret.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

(1) This is a shout-out to my friend, haha. She works for a call center and people sometimes will answer during dinner angry that she called, so she ranted about that stuff. "If they're busy, then why answer the phone? Who doesn't have an answering machine nowadays?"

And so, you were introduced to Takanaka and the awkward. Anyone have any guesses at all as to why the two older boys are so off? Bakura's got a bad feeling, Mariku's sneaking around… hopefully the chapter wasn't too much of a drag. I'm trying to keep it a little more together and flowing.

You can see a picture of Takanaka at (eminences . tumblr . com/post/7148861229/yugioh-fan-character-made-specifically-for-my)! Just remove the spaces and the brackets~

Anyway, Read & Review & Critique please! Sorry again for the wait, everyone!