DIS: Advice for y'all: never go to college a year early. It's exhausting. All this week I've been sleeping as soon as I get home because I'm just getting hammered. Not only am I stressed about my projects at the college and work, but my senior presentation next week. If I don't pass the presentation, I don't get to graduate. I'm really anxious. In any case, I'm really trying to update as fast as I can, but it just takes some time. Please don't think I'm abandoning this story – I'm not. I just have a really busy end of the quarter right now. Anyway. Here is the awaited chapter seventeen!

X

Chapter Seventeen, An added factor

A sigh escaped the male's lips as he pushed his hair from his face, one of his smooth eyebrows rising mildly. "This is where Ryou lives...?" he muttered to himself, his mouth twisting into a sour expression. Shrugging, he dropped his hand and glanced down into his car that he had stepped out of. Giving his keys a little spin around his finger, he took a step back and shut the door, then looking them. Sending a curious look to a woman that was walking and staring at him, he flashed a charming smirk at her and she tripped on her high heels. Snickering, he shook his head and continued towards the apartment complex.

Not at all where I expected Ryou to live with his income, he mused thoughtfully, catching his keys in the palm of his hand and allowing a small frown to pull the corners of his mouth downward. Too plain... He flicked a look to the cars that were in the parking lot. Obviously middle-class people. Ah, well, Ryou always did enjoy mingling with the second-rudest people in society. He smiled and entered the apartment, taking the stairs rather than the elevator. When he arrived on the fourth floor, he moved down the corridor, looking at the apartment door numbers interestedly before pausing in front of one.

After knocking briskly, he paused, turning to see if anyone peeked out of their doors like he expected. Disappointed at the stillness of the corridor, he turned back to the door just as it opened and a puzzled face came into view. A moment later, the face turned disgruntled. "You don't seem happy to see me, Ryou," he said in mock sadness. "I hope you weren't hoping I got into a car accident or anything."

"You're mistaking me for the unsavory characters you hang with, Malik," Ryou said with a sigh. "Come in." He stepped back while Malik Ishtar entered the apartment with the familiar grace of a dancer. Ryou ushered him into the living room, where he settled on the couch quite comfortably. Ryou took a moment to survey his guest and could not help but be envious. Malik had always been taller than him, with a lither frame. Ryou had needed to work on his grace, while it had always been natural for Malik. He expected Malik had always had more of a passion for his dancing and had more personal reasons to go after the career than Ryou. "You came into Domino at the perfect time. You'll like it here."

"Just right now or I really will like the city?"

"Tea?"

"No, thanks."

"Just right now," Ryou answered, taking his own cup of tea and sitting in a chair across from Malik. He raised the cup to his lips and then carefully settled it on the saucer and set it on the coffee table. "Kaiba's in Domino, too, doing business with Yami." Malik scowled. "And Yami is involved in the try-outs that you're judging. He's the accompanist for a dancer."

"You're not serious, are you?" Malik queried, his good mood having been dimmed by the information of Kaiba's presence in the city. "After he got kicked out of that concert a while back, I was sure he was going to give up on playing. Last time I saw him, he lectured me about having a promiscuous reputation and some other shit like that." Malik waved a hand dismissively. "I didn't listen to a word he said, of course. He's so hung up about honor these days and wanting a family that all that comes out of his mouth is a bunch of bull. He's beginning to annoy me, to be honest." Malik sat back, drumming his fingers over the arm of the couch as Ryou took another drink of his tea, appearing unruffled by Malik's sneering opinion of his friend. "Is the dancer any good? If she's good, I guess I could understand if he'd get back into the mood for piano playing."

"She's very good. She hasn't even been properly initiated into the dancing community yet. This will be her first audition." Malik frowned, seeming to take a professional interest. "And no, you cannot meet her." A flicker of surprise crossed the blonde's face.

"But why not?"

"Because you are promiscuous. There's no false reputation to it." Ryou shot him a warning look over his cup of tea. "I know how you treat your women, Malik. I'm not an idiot. Any girl that you train ends up in your bed somehow, regardless of whether she hates you or not. I don't know if you drug them or what." Indeed, Ryou had watched several heartbroken young dancers flee from their career when they experienced the cruel realities of life. Malik never said that he didn't love them, but took advantage of it, slept with them, and politely – yet sharply – bid them farewell afterward. Ryou had tried to convince the girls to return and most of the time he was successful. The ones he didn't know about and got to too late were the ones he failed. "It's revolting."

"I'm not interested in what you think about me, Ryou," Malik told him in a bored tone, an irritated frown on his lips. "What I do in the bedroom is none of your business. You don't see me getting on you about how you never get with girls. What? Like men, instead?"

"If all you've come here for is to insult me, then I shall have to ask you to leave," Ryou politely said, unfazed by Malik's slur. The Egyptian male stared at him a moment and then sighed, looking away with a weary expression on his face. It was clear that he did not want to insult Ryou, let alone argue with him.

"You know that I didn't come here to fight," he said, turning back to look at Ryou. He grimaced. "You've learned of some of the troubles I've run into, I suppose?" Ryou's shoulders lifted in a vague response before he took another drink of his tea, staring at his guest without blinking. Malik shifted in his seat for a moment and then got to his feet, crossing his arms in an agitated manner. "I'm lucky I still have my job, Ryou," he admitted. "I'm damn lucky that they chose me to judge for this. I've been walking on a very thin line just to keep this position. My character's been defiled by the media, hardly anyone will allow me into their ballets, and my savings are dwindling to a pathetic amount. If I don't get a job soon, I'm going to end up destitute."

"How does this concern me, Malik?" Ryou asked quietly. "You know I always disapproved of your lifestyle and warned you to stay out of the business you got involved in. I won't sympathize – you should know this well enough."

"I'm not looking for sympathy," Malik spat. "I haven't got any money, Ryou, not if I want to keep up with my bills. I've sold my house, my car, and anything else I had of worth. I'm barely able to keep up the rent on my apartment."

"This is, no doubt, because you choose to live in the most expensive of apartment complexes."

Ignoring him, Malik continued, "My ticket was pre-paid by the agency for me to judge these try-outs and is an all around trip, so I didn't have to worry about that, nor the expense to send my car over here. I don't have any money to pay a car rental or taxi, not even the money for a motel." Ryou was beginning to see where this was going and glanced around his own home as he drained the rest of his tea. As low as Malik had become in the last years, he knew that, at some level, they were considered friends. He wouldn't rip him off and try to steal anything of his. The only thing of real value, anyway, was his piano.

"So you want a place to stay?" Ryou assumed, standing up and moving to the kitchen to put his dishes on the counter. Malik followed him, seeming to regain some control over himself as he did. "Are you in debt, Malik, or simply short of funds because of your tarnished reputation?" When there was not an immediate response, he turned his head slightly to see Malik hesitating, perhaps considering over a lie to tell him.

Seeing Ryou's look, he sighed and confessed, "A little of both. I've paid off most of the debt. It didn't help when one of my...business partners...decided to die on me. He ended up fucking me over, so now I'm stuck paying back people I don't even know and he sent all his money to some little bitch girlfriend of his. That's partly why I've been so intent on keeping this job after I learned that Yami was still in Domino. It helps that you are, too."

"Yami?" Ryou repeated, surprised. "What has he got to do with your problems? He isn't involved in that business anymore, Malik, you know that. He cut off his ties as soon as his parents – well."

"I know all of that," Malik dismissed with a wave of his hand, moving to the other side of the kitchen where the balcony was. He leaned against the glass windows, peering through it, looking out at Domino City. "Trust me, I know. His parents are still trying to find him. He moves around so much, though, that his money is fairly safe from them. I've never met worse leeches than him. But that's neither here nor there. I'm not talking about his parents. They know better than to try and get to Yami through me. Jiiro Hanazawa has made my life some kind of hellacious and I know that Yami used to be close to him."

"The key words there are 'used to be.' You can't be sure that Yami knows anything about him now," Ryou informed him with a slight shake of his head. "The guy's dead, Malik. What can you possibly expect to do? You've been beaten at your own game." This seemed to only piss his friend off. Malik pushed away from the window and stalked to where Ryou was, closing him in, a hand braced against the counter on each side of the counter. Ryou merely stared back at him, surprisingly calm.

"Even if Yami hasn't spoken to him, he's in a circle that I'm not," Malik stated. "Pianists and dancers don't mingle unless it has to do with work. Yami doesn't quite have an entrance into our circle, just as I don't have quite an entrance into his. He's one step ahead of me, though..." He pulled back, a musing expression on his face. "If that girl does well on the stage and she makes her debut with Swan Lake, she's going to get all kinds of offers and anything she hears, he'll hear. In any case...All I want to know is who Hanazawa's girlfriend is."

"You're not a common thug, Malik. You can't go beating on the woman's door and asking for her money. Unless you intend to kill her. Would that be your last resort?"

"I'm getting her to pay off the debts that her boyfriend landed on my doorstep." Malik pushed a hand through his hair, flashing a brief, taunting smile. "I doubt that you're going to stop me. You prefer words over actions, I've noticed." Ryou seemed immune to Malik's taunts, which was no surprise, as they had been thrown at him ever since they had met. "That's my own business, though. What I do is what I do. I only came here to ask if I can stay during the auditions and a bit of time afterward." He snapped his fingers as though something had just occurred to him. "Oh! And I'll need Yami's address, of course."

Ryou pursed his lips, seeing that Malik had every intention of doing as he promised. He understood that, not only because Malik was stubborn, but also because his life was literally ravaged by debts that were not his own. Ryou suspected those were the ones he had yet to pay. However, he was not entirely comfortable with giving Yami's personal address to him. He could take him to the opera house, yet there was a problem there, too. Anzu would be there and she was the last person he wanted Malik to see, especially when he was so stressed out. The first thing that Malik turned to when he became stress was the comfort of a woman in his bed. Suspecting Anzu to be a virgin and, from his own observations, fond of Yami, she did not need to be seduced by Malik.

She's strong, he assured himself. Yami will be able to pull her back if she falls under Malik's spell. Besides, I have to think of Yami first. Malik isn't as innocent as his smile suggests... "Alright," he sighed, having made an agreeable conclusion, "here's what we'll do, Malik. I have to go the opera house later on to meet Yami and Anzu – "

"Who's Anzu?"

"The dancer," Ryou replied curtly and then continued, "You can come with me when I go to meet them. I doubt Yami wants many people to know his whereabouts. It's best that we do it this way and that way, no one will be damaged in the end. And you can stay here."

"That will do perfect. I'm not out for his life, anyway, I just want to talk to him." He flashed a wicked smirk at Ryou. "I'll go get my things." As he was walking from the kitchen, he called, "Maybe I'll like Domino after all!" Ryou listened as the door shut behind Malik and then he looked at his teacup and saucer with a rueful expression.

"I think I'll make another cup of tea," he murmured absently to himself.

X

Miho heard the sputter of a motorbike stopping some ways from the café. It didn't matter that there was other traffic. She knew how to distinguish Honda's motorbike. She bit her lip and glanced at Anzu, who had only arrived about five minutes ago and was tying on her barista apron. She smiled encouragingly at Miho, who returned it tremulously. I've never been very good with guys, Miho thought, turning away from Anzu and fingering her yellow, short-sleeve shirt. She had worn a small, fitting navy blue vest over it, dark blue skinny jeans, and white flats. In her hair she had her usual, yellow ribbon. I don't know what I'm supposed to wear out to lunch with a guy or what to say or anything...Anzu said I looked fine. I wish she could come with me. It's going to be so awkward with us alone. Her heart tripped over itself as somebody paused outside one of the café windows and took off his helmet. As suspected, it was Honda. But then, she tried to reassure herself, we've talked alone before. Maybe it...won't be too bad.

Miho tugged her vest down a bit as Honda continued towards the door and opened it. She almost sighed aloud at seeing him. Any other girl might not have found Honda attractive. He had sharper features than most men, but with Miho, it was never about look. She always fell in love with a guy's smile. Naturally, she never said anything to the guy and this was the first time she had ever been noticed by the same guy she liked. He looks so much more confident than I do, she thought despairingly. I'm going to look like a complete fool to him!

"Honda, hey," Anzu greeted, creeping up behind Miho and taking a hold of her shoulders, peering out from behind her. "You're right on time. That's great. I'm leaving early today to meet Yami, so try to be back before one, okay?" She smiled at him as Honda nodded wordlessly and then turned to Miho. "Have fun," she whispered and then patted Miho's shoulders and stepped back, moving to the cash register. Miho pushed back the disconnecting counter and shyly looked to Honda.

"Well, let's get going," he said in the regular, nonromantic, masculine way that he and Jounouchi had. "I found a great place. Oh, I hope you don't mind riding on motorcycles? I brought an extra helmet..."

"No, that's fine," she assured him. Ohh, I wish I wasn't so self-conscious. He isn't...

Contrary to Miho's thoughts, Honda was anything but confident. Anzu, Jounouchi, and Shizuka had hammered manners and etiquette and advice into him last night after putting Rena to bed. He was barely holding up the façade of a self-assured male, comfortable in his skin. That was Jounouchi, not him! When it came to women, he was a total mess, which explained why most of his girlfriends didn't last long or the girls he became attracted to usually rejected him. However, Anzu had told him that since Miho was a really shy girl, he would need to be the social one. After those four sentences though, he felt himself converting back into his bumbling personality.

He led her to where his motorbike was parked and took the miniature helmet from the top and handed it to her. She fitted it over her head, pony tail and all and lifted the visor to grin at him. "I've never been on a motorcycle before," she admitted as he shoved his helmet on his own head and buckled it beneath his chin.

"Yeah, I've only had this baby for about a year," he said, patting his motorbike and wincing in his helmet. There I go sounding like an idiot. Who calls their motorcycle 'baby'? "Oh, you need to..." He trailed off and reached up, buckling the latch underneath her chin. She let her visor drop to hide the contented smile that lifted her lips upward. She tried hard not to blush, but failed rather miserably. He turned away from her and swung a leg over it, putting up the kickstand and kicking the motorcycle into action. "Sit right behind me, Miho," he instructed, secretly dreading it. Honda was definitely not the most expert male at stifling physical reactions when an attractive girl was pressed up against him. He bit down on his lip as soon as she shifted behind him and latched her arms around his waist. "See those pegs right there? Go ahead and put your feet there. There you go. Now, hold on tight!" He pushed away from the sidewalk and sped into the traffic.

Letting out a squeak of fear, her grip tightened around his waist and she closed her eyes. When she didn't fly off and the ride remained relatively steady, Miho opened her eyes and turned her head to see the cars and buildings and people whipping behind her as Honda weaved through cars to their destination. Cuddling a little closer to him, she smiled and decided that she liked riding on a motorbike quite a bit. The hair that wasn't confined in the helmet fluttered behind her and the wind tore around her from all sides. At first, it had been a bit frightening to think that such a violent wind was around her, but after the initial reaction, she found it was more exhilarating than anything else.

"This is amazing!" She called to him through the noise.

"Yeah, isn't it?" He answered back in a slightly louder voice than hers. "This is pretty much why I bought a motorbike! As soon as I first rode on one, I knew I had to get one."

"I can see what you mean!"

There was no conversation after that and Miho was glad that it wasn't an uncomfortable ride, with strange body heat and utter silence. It was soothing, even the sight of things speeding behind her was not bothersome, though in any other circumstances it might have made her nauseous. It made her want to rest her head against Honda's back, close her eyes, and listen to the wind snapping around her, impacting with cars as they pushed themselves forward and blew around her. Even though the wind itself was cold, the motorcycle and Honda kept her from getting a chill, the warmth spreading from her chest and extending outward to keep the rest of her body warm.

Miho wanted to toss her helmet off and feel the sting of the cold against her face, but had a feeling that Honda would not necessarily appreciate her throwing her helmet somewhere, perhaps knocking out some pedestrian. That would be rather troublesome for him since the helmet would come back to him. She did want to feel that, though, as the simple, wonderful feeling that it was. She could wait until winter to feel it; that was just it though – it wasn't winter and she could feel it now.

That idea was brought to a halt as the sound died down around her ears and she was aware of the images slowing around her. She turned her head to see that Honda was pulling up next to a restaurant, one that she suspected was rather expensive. As soon as he turned off the motorbike, she took off her helmet and allowed him to help her step off. She stumbled on the sidewalk, seeing the building tilt dangerously. "Oh...Dizzy...," she murmured, tripping backwards and into him.

"It does that to you the first couple of times," he commented with a grin. She could not help but smile back at him, without any hesitance, because it was his smile that she loved so much. It was warm and trustworthy; it made her feel safe in a world that no one seemed to be truly safe in.

"Thank you, Honda," she said.

"Don't thank me yet. The ride was only the beginning." He winked at her and, with a hand on her elbow, walked with her to the entrance of the restaurant. She knew as soon as they stepped in that it most certainly was expensive. The tables were beautiful with glittering centerpieces on them and it was mostly men in suits that were sitting, eating, and discussing some thing or another with each other. There were no mothers and their crying children here or teenagers skipping school, decked out in all black with chains hanging from them and their hair dyed green. It was a respectable place to have lunch. She was touched that Honda would go so far for her, but she could not possibly accept it.

She raised her head and parted his lips to tell him that they could go somewhere else when she finally noticed just how nervous he was. The waiter had approached them and Honda looked as though everything he did or said was being judged by everyone else, including her. Miho waited until they were shown to their table and sitting down before she said, "You know you don't have to try and impress me, Honda." She did not feel as close to an anxiety attack as she did earlier now that she knew he was nervous as well.

"What do you mean?" was his blank response. It was accompanied with one of the best vacant expressions that she had ever seen. She wondered if someone taught him that or if that was his own device.

"This restaurant," she told him. "I would have been fine with some burger joint or Chinese or something. You didn't...you didn't have to do this." He blinked once, then twice, looking baffled, as though nobody had ever said such a thing to him.

"You...don't want to eat here?" He was honestly confused by the concept.

"Honda, I don't want you to waste money on a lunch." She smiled at him, hoping to whatever god existed that she wasn't saying the wrong thing, that she hadn't interpreted his expressions wrong. Surely he didn't want to spend however-much-money on a simple meal, did he? "I kind of wanted something fattening like a burger, some fries, maybe a milkshake..."

"I feel like such an ass," he laughed sheepishly. "I thought – well, most baristas eat like little salads so I thought you were a high class kind of girl and didn't want to insult you or anything." Miho almost breathed a sigh of relief. It was as though the ice had been broken between them. He had thought she was from a totally different social class than him, but he should have known when they first met at that corner store that she didn't have a lot of money. He was able to laugh at his own mistakes, so she should be able to laugh with him, to laugh at herself, too.

"You haven't seen how much Anzu and I can eat!" She said teasingly. "We could probably take you on any day."

"Hmm...So, wanna go get a burger then? Because I really am not in the mood for fancy food today."

"Me neither," she agreed and beamed across the table at him. She knew she was blushing. For once, Miho didn't care. She felt ridiculously happy spending her afternoon with this guy. She had barely known him, yet she was certain that she would want nothing more than to be right there with him. She wondered if he was thinking the same or her feelings were her own personal ones. At the moment, it didn't matter because he chose that moment to push away from the table and offered her a hand up. It was the most romantic gesture anyone had displayed to her.

X

Ryou was not yet certain of the intelligence of his decision to bring Malik to the opera house. In fact, he was wishing he was a worse friend and had chucked him elsewhere. Unfortunately, nobody could truly chuck Malik Ishtar and expect him not to come bouncing back. That was the only thing that the man did in difficult situations. Even now, he was winding himself up to bounce back and smack quite a few people in the jaw. Ryou vaguely wondered why when he thought of that metaphor, he imagined his friend as a Jack-in-the-Box. Shaking that thought away, he glanced behind him to see Malik trailing behind with his hands in his pockets, a musing expression on his face. They had taken a cab rather than drive. Ryou hated driving and Malik saw no reason to waste unnecessary money.

"You did promise that you wouldn't cause any problems," Ryou reminded him. Malik rolled his eyes.

"Give me a break! I'm not a child, Ryou, and I would appreciate you to not treat me as one, either." Ryou felt a twang of remorse because he knew that, indeed, he truly was treating Malik like a five-year-old. It wasn't that he was hyperactive and would go around tearing things down. It was more that he had an unfortunate lack of control when it came to saying what his exact thoughts were. Only when the consequences threatened to be particularly crucial did he restrain himself.

They entered the opera house and Malik surveyed it with an interested eye, noticing that, although it was not the best one he had been in, it certainly was not lacking in impressive furnishings. He followed Ryou into the auditorium, where he heard a familiar piano piece playing. He gave a slightly deranged grin. He always enjoyed annoying Yami, especially when he was in a particularly brooding mood. Really, he mused, he should be thanking me or he would be stuck in his morbid thoughts all the time. Malik tilted his head to the side and saw someone talking to Yami, a violin in hand. That explained the last note he had heard coming from the violin.

"Ryou, there you are!" the violinist exclaimed, waving with his bow. "We were beginning to wonder if you were late." He glanced down at his violin and made a minor adjustment to the tuning, before asking, "Who's that with you?" Malik made a quick observation of Yami, whose head had appeared around the piano, his mouth turning down at spotting him, and then his companion. He had the build of a dancer, but based on his easy handling of the violin, he was anything but that. "Anzu called, saying she would be late. Honda went out on a date with her friend that works with her and they haven't returned yet. She's not too happy about it."

"And yet you sound cheerful about it," Ryou commented as he and Malik stepped onto the stage. "Malik, this is Otogi Ryuuji. Otogi - Malik Ishtar."

Malik smiled and offered his hand. Otogi transferred his bow to his left hand that was holding his violin and took the proffered hand in his own, clasping it briefly. "Nice to meet you," Malik politely greeted. "I suppose you're another of those musicians?" He gestured vaguely towards the violin. Otogi was unruffled by the subtle slur, taking his bow in hand and making an elegant gesture with it, smirking cockily.

"I'm not nearly as dedicated as Yami. I sell instruments more than anything else. Nothing but the best, of course." A frown marred his features. "I was recently attacked because of that. Some people will do anything to get expensive instruments to sell. I make violins, too, though I rarely ever have time." He examined his own violin. Malik's eyes turned towards it, as well. "What about you? Not a musician, I'm guessing?"

"A dancer," Yami said before Malik could open his mouth. He rose from the piano bench and approached the group of men, crossing his arms, his eyes narrowing on Malik. "Come to aggravate me or did Ryou call you to help Anzu with her practicing?" One of his eyebrows tilted upward skeptically, his voice thick with sarcasm. Yami doubted that Ryou would call Malik to help Anzu with her practicing. Although Malik was one of the best dancers, he had a notorious reputation for being promiscuous and from what Yami knew of him, any girl that Malik trained not only ended up in his bed, but had to endure a good deal of scathing criticism.

They all became exquisite dancers, though.

"Neither," Malik responded with a shrug. "I'm judging the auditions. You might want to be nice to me, then, if you want your precious dancer to get through them."

"...You cannot be serious." Yami glanced at Ryou for confirmation and he received a reluctant nod. "But why would they choose you? You've been completely defamed in the dancing community. With how your career is going – "

"There is nothing wrong with my career!" Malik snapped petulantly. "I am just as good of a dancer as I have been. This has nothing to do with suddenly becoming a terrible dancer, Yami, it has to do with my financial situation and certain areas that I've been involved in. They could care less if I went around fucking every girl I could get my hands on. That's just what they're saying is the reason for it. The only reason I'm not getting a job is because they think I'm on drugs and will be hallucinating and shoot them or something." He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair, a strained smile lifting his lips upward. "Listen. Before you piss me off further, let me at least ask you – did you speak to Jiiro Hanazawa before he died?"

Ah, Malik thought, catching the defensive look in Yami's eyes. He knows something, just as I figured he would.

"Seems everyone wants to know something about that guy," Otogi muttered when Yami remained silent.

"You know about him?" Malik queried, turning to him instead. Yami put a hand on Otogi's arm to stop him from saying anything further, which only infuriated Malik. "For God's sake, he's dead, Yami! I can't hurt him, now can I? I just need to know who his girlfriend was." Otogi's eyebrows shot up and he sent a look to Yami, who seemed to be ignoring it. Malik, in turn, looked at Ryou. Ryou was ignoring all of it, staring ahead of him with a blank expression.

Yami was fighting an inward battle with himself. He was not obtuse. If Malik was looking for Jiiro Hanazawa's girlfriend, that could only mean that he had some dealings with him and some unexpected debts had been shot onto Malik's doorstep after the man had died. If Yami knew Hanazawa – and, seeing as he was once his pupil, he did – he had done everything he could to keep the debts from following Sakura Mazaki. Jiiro was involved in bad circles, Yami conceded to himself, but he had never let his involvement harm anyone that he cared about, whether it be his lover or his friends. He was clever at that. He knew how to manipulate things to work just as he wanted. If he turned some debts towards Malik, he clearly saw him as only a business associate and nothing more.

"So...," Yami sighed. "Is this why you're in a precarious financial situation?" Ryou snapped out of his trance and looked to Yami in some confusion. The other two appeared just as baffled. "Malik? You hinted that you had dealings with him. Does that mean he sent some debts that should have gone to Sakura - to you?"

"Her name's Sakura? Oh, yes," he added carelessly when Ryou gave him a withering look. "I'll be damned if I'm going to pay his debts. I wouldn't care except that Hanazawa got damned as soon as he died, so naturally anyone involved with him was branded evil, too, and that included me. If I can't get a job and I have his debts hovering behind me at every step, I'm basically screwed."

"The men that he owed money to haven't contacted you?"

"Not yet. I've got a little bit more time before they try to force the money from me. That's why I need to find his little – Sakura, was it? She got all his money when he died and that's a damn good amount for just one woman. Clearly you know her." Yami heaved another sigh and pushed his bangs from his face, looking to Otogi, who had absorbed all that Malik had said without a word.

"What do you think, Otogi?" He murmured.

"I think," he said clearly as the doors opened, "that we should discuss this with Anzu, as Sakura is her mother." The men turned to see Anzu rushing up to the stage.

X

DIS: I think you can start to see that it's not going to focus entirely on Anzu's dancing career. The thing that sucks is that, like with most of my stories, I don't outline it, I just write. Some things don't make sense even to me. I'm still not sure how this plot came up. Again, sorry for the late update. Please leave a review, telling me how you liked it. Ciao!