DIS: It took me such a long time to find inspiration for this. I went through a period where I could not write, no matter what. It was the worse writer's block I have ever had. In any case, here is the awaited thirteenth chapter.
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Chapter Thirteen, Words are failing
Jounouchi yawned as he stumbled out of bed. It had been days since he last spoke to Anzu and Honda had been pressuring him to at least call her up and see how her practice for the auditions was going. It wasn't as if he didn't want to talk to her, but he had said some hurtful things. He knew that Anzu wasn't the normal type of girl; he simply wasn't sure what type of response he would receive from her when he called her.
With a sigh, Jou pushed his hands through his messy hair and drifted to the kitchen, where the cordless phone lied. He picked it up and dialed Anzu's number, glancing around with a puzzled gaze. Shizuka's left already? He thought, surprised. Hmm...At least she is getting out of the house more often than before. His heart jumped to his throat when Anzu answered in her soft voice. Clearing the lump from his throat, he sputtered out, "Anzu? Hi, um, it's...um...it's Jounouchi." Great job, Jounouchi, he told himself, smacking the palm of his hand to his forehead. You made yourself sound more like an idiot than usual.
"Hey, Jounouchi. I was wondering if you were going to call me anytime soon." He blinked, surprised by how light her tone was. It was as if she was completely unbothered by what had happened between them. He was struck silent for a moment, musing over this unknown wonder that she had introduced to him. "Jou? Are you there?"
"Yeah," he quickly replied, snapping out of his thoughts to return to them later. "Sorry, I just spaced out there for a minute, heh...Listen, Anzu, about what I said, I didn't mean any of it. I don't like that you were doin' that behind my back, but...I guess I was just bein' stupid."
"To be honest, I didn't think you were going to react how you had," Anzu admitted. "I knew that you didn't like Otogi because of Mai, but he really wanted to see her, Jounouchi; Shizuka wanted to see him, too. When I mentioned him, she seemed to cave in on herself. I had to bring them together." She laughed softly, murmuring, "They're in love."
"...I guess."
Hearing the reluctance in his voice, she sighed and told him, "Otogi will treat her well and if you're worried about Shizuka hurting him...Well, I can't imagine her hurting anyone. Not on purpose, anyway. Especially someone she loves." Jou turned his eyes down to his bare feet, deliberating over her words. "But listen – why don't I come by after work and we can talk? I have to get to the opera house to meet Yami. One of his friends is supposed to be analyzing us to help us in the auditions."
"Okay," he agreed faintly. "I'll see you then, Anzu. Good luck."
"Thanks! Bye."
Punching the 'Talk' button to hang up, Jou pulled a chair out at the kitchen table and sat, fiddling with the edge of the newspaper Shizuka had set out for him. Anzu's words had triggered memories of his marriage that he had tried so desperately to bury. He knew that she hadn't been trying to dredge up anything bad in his mind, but had wanted to put him at ease about his sister's relationship. Nonetheless...
Flashback
Jounouchi buried his fingers in his dirty blonde hair, his palms biting against his eyelids. He could hear soft sobs coming across the table, but refused to look up. His own tears were being tightly held inside him. He couldn't look up at his beautiful wife without wanting to cry himself, without wanting to tear her apart. He had never harmed Mai before, but right then he wanted to.
If he didn't know her better, Jou would have thought the tears were genuine. But how could he believe that when she had purposely sought out a man that night to be with? Instead of him, she went to another man for her pleasure. His nails dug into his scalp and he could feel skin coming apart beneath his fingers. The reminder of why he was up at two in the morning, sitting at the table enraged him.
Slowly, he backed away from the ledge that promised oblivion. Breathing in deeply, he dislodged his fingers from his hair and rubbed his face to give some feeling to the numb skin. When he lowered his hands, his weary eyes met the watery, violet orbs of his wife's. Jou's mouth twisted bitterly and he let out a loud sigh, leaning back in his chair, resting a hand on the table and staring at it almost uncomprehendingly. He raised it and smacked it slightly on the table. He could find no words to express what he was feeling right then.
"Jounouchi, please say something," she whispered. "Please...Speak to me."
"What do you want me to say, Mai?" He mumbled, bringing his eyes to hers once again. "I...have nothing to say about this. There's nothing to say. You should know well enough how I feel right now. I don't understand why you did this, Mai. It doesn't make sense to me. Maybe you were pissed at me – that's nothing new – but you could have at least given me some warning. This came out of nowhere."
"We're always fighting," Mai told him in a slightly sharp tone. He gave a tight smile, convinced then that the tears had been false just as he suspected. "Did you think I was fighting with you for fun? I'm unhappy, Jou. This wasn't the type of life I imagined for us when he got married." He snorted and looked away, shaking his head slightly. "I thought we would be constantly happy and love each other forever! This? What we have had for the past months? It is not what I saw for us when I was standing at the altar. Are you even listening to me?"
"I don't have much of a choice but to listen, do I?" Jou snapped back. He turned his head to look at her, his eyes narrowed irritably. "Sounds to me like you don't know what the fuck happened. I'll tell you what happened: you freaked out, Mai. Simple as that. You freaked out because you actually had to have responsibility with Rena." He stood up, savagely shoving the chair towards the table. "Everyone thinks I'm stupid, but I'm not. I knew what to expect when we got married, and I knew what to expect when you got pregnant." His mouth tightened and he averted his gaze to his hands that were clenched over the top of the chair.
"Jou – "
"I want us to try and fix this, Mai. I love you, and that's not going to change. I'll forgive you this time. But if you do it again..." He trailed off and turned his back to her startled expression. I'm desperate, he thought, licking his lips. I couldn't survive without her and Rena doesn't need this. I have to keep her with me, no matter what. I don't want to have this conversation with her again, because it won't end the same way...
End Flashback
Jounouchi sighed through his nose and rose to his feet unsteadily. He paused next to the table, staring vacantly across the kitchen with a gloomy expression. He knew that there were certain aspects to love that one had to admire, but it was different when he observed such things in other people. When it was personal, the observation turned to obsession.
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Anzu quickly hurried across the sidewalk towards the opera house, pushing her jacket sleeve up to flick a look towards her watch. She wasn't quite late, but she was getting dangerously close to it. What with coming in late and her anxiety over Yami's news, she had barely gotten enough sleep. Sluggishly, she had gone through the apartment doing her usual morning deeds and had to hurry through the door in order to get to her practice on time.
Moving through the halls to the doors that led into to the auditorium, she paused to listen to the familiar, gliding music of Pyott Ilíyich Tchaikovsky's masterpiece. Smiling lightly, she pushed through the doors and closed them quietly behind her. She saw a young male close to her age leaning against the piano with his arms crossed and his head tipped back. She continued through the rows of chairs that she had traveled between so many times before and set her things on a chair in front; she went around to step onto the stage and only then did the male acknowledge her. Yami was oblivious, continuing on with the music of Swan Lake.
"Hello, you must be Anzu Mazaki," he greeted, pushing away from the piano gracefully. She knew by that simple gesture that he was the instructor that Yami had spoke to her about. His footsteps towards her were unconsciously calculated, light, and nimble. He paused in front of her, his mouth curling upward in a gentle, impish sort of grin as he held his out to her. She clasped it, briefly dumbfounded by his attractive looks. Anzu might have considered them feminine if she didn't know any better. His hair was long and an odd colour of white, his eyes wide and russet brown. His skin, too, was pale, just as his hair. "I am Ryou Bakura. Yami has told me much about you."
"O-oh," she sputtered nervously, lowering her hand as he released it. "He has?" A hint of humor entered Ryou's eyes, but he did not tease her about her manner, instead pivoting and thumping the piano. Yami opened an eye, the notes halting in mid-air, giving a sense of anxiety, causing a wish of yearning in the abandoned music.
"Warm up," Ryou ordered Anzu in a soft, but firm voice that resembled her own dance instructor's. "Once you are satisfied, we will begin the instruction." He smiled at her. "I cannot wait to see what you have achieved. Yami says that he is confident of your abilities, but wanted a second opinion. He is a perfectionist in that way, I suppose." He cast a teasing look towards the pianist, who raised his eyes towards the heavens in return.
Anzu removed her shoes and jacket, tossing them to the side to lace her ballet shoes. She could have danced with bare feet, but the ballet shoes provided more traction and would make it so that her steps were more controlled.
"I will study Yami's music by each measure and the flow of notes that Tchaikovsky constructed. I have done most of this before you arrived," Ryou elaborated as she stretched. "Now I can see how well your dancing corresponds with his music. As he has told you, you have not danced to his actual playing, only a recording. It will be interesting to see how you work this out. After all, you cannot simply pluck an accompanist from a sea of pianists and hope that your dancing is attracted to his music. The manner in which the pianist presents the pieces he plays must blend well with the dancer's own certain style. Most people fail to see this, but as both a dance instructor and pianist, it is something that I took note of." He paused, smiling as Anzu rose to her feet. "Am I boring you?"
"No, it is really very interesting," she replied, a bit surprised at the question. "I never actually considered that our music and dancing had different styles."
"Before we begin, Anzu, can I ask if you practiced the steps to Swan Lake at home, as well?"
"I have," Anzu assured. He nodded and then stepped back so that he was a few feet from behind Yami.
"Ready, Anzu?" Yami queried, raising his eyes to hers briefly. She settled herself on the stage appropriately and then gave a slight nod.
All images faded from her mind and the stress of dancing in front of Ryou evaporated as she relaxed her muscles. Her introduction flooded her mind and seeped into her flesh, bringing it alive with the familiar sensation. Her body tingled, anxious to move. Soon, she heard her cue: a subtle note that had to be pulled out of the round of notes that were played. She was aware of Ryou Bakura's eyes on her, but hardly cared. She let her body move in response to the piano notes and realized that, until then, she had been dancing with a phantom touch. Now, it was as if she were dancing with Yami instead of the recording that she had been forced to deal with time and time again. Her heart soared at the thought of dancing so intimately with him, but she forced her dancing to remain as controlled as it had been.
Perhaps her emotions showed on her face throughout the dancing because when the end of the music came, there was an almost shuttered look on Ryou's face. When her eyes touched his, the look disappeared and he pasted a smile on his lips and walked towards her, spreading his hands out. "It was very lovely...I am a bit surprised because this is the first time Yami has ever acted as an accompanist. Your styles seem to compliment each other very well..." He appeared thoughtful for a moment and shook himself. "There are a few things we will have to fix with your dancing, though, Anzu. Now, perhaps it is because you have to work entirely on the assumption that the prince is there, so let me try and help you as I can." He called to Yami, giving him the note number and measure. "I have danced in this ballet before, so I promise I won't mess you up. The feel of an actual person might disorient you for a moment, but you should get over it soon enough."
"You're so kind..." She murmured, smiling up at him in gratitude. "I will have to make it up to you sometime, Ryou."
"When you get the part of Odette, that will be enough for me. I would very much like to see you dance in Swan Lake." He turned his head to Yami. "Alright, play it!"
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Seiji Mazaki heard the doorbell ring, but he barely recognized the sound. He was submerged in his past, staring down at the scrap book that he had in his lap. Two others lay on his table, but he had already gone through them. He ran his fingers over a picture of him and his ex-wife holding Anzu as a toddler, all three smiling up at the camera. Those had been better days, he reflected sadly. The doorbell rang again, jangling his thoughts. He carefully placed the scrap book on the coffee table in front of him and hurried to the door, uncertain of how long the doorbell had been ringing.
When he swung the door open, he stared into a familiar face that he hadn't seen for years. Sakura's mouth twitched upward in the slightest of smiles. "Sakura," he breathed. He flinched as if she had slapped him and straightened, turning his gaze to a point just past her. Anzu had asked him if he could handle her and at the time, he had been certain he could. Staring at pictures of them together had been painful, however, and had reopened wounds that had not yet been sealed.
"May I come in, Seiji? I need to speak to you." His eyes moved back to her and he gave a look of disbelief. "Please...I am not asking much." After a beat in which Sakura was certain he intended to slam the door in her face, he stepped away and allowed her through. She shuffled into the apartment, taking in the surroundings. It was purely male, with only a few feminine touches here and there. She suspected that it was her daughter who had added such tiny female reminders, but was unclear of whether Seiji had remarried or not. "I saw Anzu at the opera house."
"So I was told," he grunted, control of his emotions once again. He went to the couch and settled on it. Sakura followed him, but stood over the coffee table, staring at the scrap book with a twisted expression. Before he could completely grasp what it was that she was gawking at, she leaned down and took the scrap book in her hands, looking at the picture he had been only a few moments ago.
"It wasn't a life I wanted to abandon, Seiji," Sakura quietly confessed, her eyes fixed on the photograph. "I foolishly fell in love and panicked, I suppose. I didn't...I didn't want to hurt anyone, but no matter which path I took, that was the eventual result. Can you understand that?" She paused to see if he would answer and then smiled, returning the scrap book to its place on the coffee table. "You didn't cut out my pictures."
"The person in those is someone else...Not the person I am faced with now, Sakura." She turned her pained gaze to him, but knew that he was correct. "What did you come to talk with me about?"
"After I took Anzu to that ballet, she decided she wanted to be a dancer. Do you remember her saying that? I never thought she would go through with it. She was only six years old, how could I have imagined that she would strive to follow such a young dream? Seiji...Anzu refuses to see or even speak with me. Instead, I dealt with her accompanist."
"Yami Mutou?" He spoke up in surprise. "You talked with Yami?"
"Yes. He was so protective of her...It was rather touching, really. I got angry with him and said some cruel things, but he still did not back down. Now that I look back on it, I regret acting that way. He sent Anzu away so that she didn't have to talk with me, so that she wouldn't get too upset. I admire that in a man. I never thought to ask him and since I planned on coming to you to tell you that I was in town, I figured I would ask you instead. Is...Anzu and her accompanist...?" She trailed off, a tentative expression taking hold of her features.
"No," he bit out. "As far as I'm aware, they have a plutonic relationship."
"Oh...Oh, I see."
"Even if she did decide that she wanted to be with Yami, I wouldn't try and get in the way. Her circumstances are far different than your own, Sakura, and Yami seems to be a man worthy of her attention."
"I swear to you, Seiji, that I never meant to hurt my family like this," she whispered, bringing a hand up to her face to hold her cheek. "I wish I could have been there for Anzu. God...I am so proud of how far she's gone and how determined she has been. I just...I want to have a relationship with her. She deserves a mother...better than me and..." She pressed her hand to her mouth as tears welled up and spilled down to her cheeks. "I do love her. I...I th-thought about her...every day."
Seiji sat and watched her cry, a stoic expression on his face. After a while of watching her sob in her hands, he simply turned and stared down at the scrap book without any feeling. She was crying, but he couldn't dredge up even the smallest bit of sympathy.
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DIS: Sorry for the short chapter. I was going to add some Honda/Miho, but I felt that this was the best place to stop. Like I said last chapter, there will be some hot romance around the auditions. Please leave a review, telling me how you like it. Ciao!
