DD: Hey guys! I'm back! And summer is finally nearly here, so I'll be able to write more in a few days! I'm hoping to get this updated again soon. Anyway, hope you like it! Enjoy!

Reviews:

KisaraTheDragonCharm: As much as I love torturing characters, I agree with you. I want Yugi to get out.

Lorelei Jacques: Bonds will be strong between Yugi and Ryou, Marik and Bakura, Yami, Malik and Bakura, Atem and Akefia and one or two others. That's fine; I've got an obsession with Marik so I know how it feels. And I'll be revealling why Ryou doesn't talk and who the Artist is. Eventually.

Ern Estine 13624: Glad you think so, and it's good to see you again!

Ele15: XD Sorry, but no Mobiumshipping in this one. And I know, I kind of want to do the same to him.

BreakfastForLife: Do you think I should post a list of who's who on my profile? And thanks!

"Temmy!"

Atem looked up from his homework as his younger brother ran up to him. "What is it now, Yams?"

Yami frowned. "Don't call me that!"

"Well you call me Temmy," Atem argued. "It's only fair."

"No it's not!" Yami protested.

"Well I say it is." Atem folded his arms.

"Well I say it's not!" Yami stamped his foot.

"Well I'm older so what you say doesn't count." Atem laughed and poked Yami's forehead.

Yami stared at him for a moment before bursting into tears.

"Hey, stop it!" Atem protested. "Mom'll hear you!"

"Mommy!" Yami wailed.

"Knock it off!" Atem snapped.

"Atem Anubis Sennen!"

Atem looked up as Yuki Sennen entered the room. Yami extended his arms, still crying.

Yuki picked him up, frowning at Atem. "Are you okay, Yami?"

"T-Temmy said I don't count 'cause I'm younger," Yami sobbed.

Yuki shook her head. "Well he's wrong."

"Yeah, I count," Yami agreed, his tears slowing. "One, two, three, four, five! See, Temmy!"

Atem rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

Yami stuck his tongue out at him. Yuki sighed. "Yami, why don't you go into the kitchen and get a cookie," she said, setting him down.

Yami nodded and pottered out of the room.

"He gets a cookie? Really?" Atem protested.

"Atem, he's three," Yuki said, folding her arms. "You're seven. You should know better."

"I was trying to do homework!" Atem waved a hand at his open maths book.

"Be nice to your brother." Yuki shot him a look and left the room.

Atem huffed and turned back to his book. "He's not even my real brother…"

Yami ignored the hammering on his door as he pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

"Oi, Griffin! Open up!"

Bakura and Malik.

Yami rolled his eyes and drained the last of his orange juice before strolling towards the door.

Just because he could, he stood at the door for a solid minute, allowing Bakura to glare at him through the wall.

Then he cracked a smirk and pulled open the door. "Yes?" He purred with an innocent grin.

Bakura growled, tapping his foot. "I hate you. You know that, right?"

"You may have mentioned it once or twice," Yami agreed, closing the door behind him. "You're up early."

Bakura glared at Malik. "Phoenix kept knocking until I got up."

Malik shrugged, hands in his pockets. "I just didn't feel like getting another restriction because someone can't keep themselves from destroying their alarm clocks."

"It happened once," Bakura snarled, turning away from Malik and storming down the path.

Yami sighed as he and Malik ran to catch up with him. "Slow down, Bakura. We're in plenty of time."

"Yeah. Thanks to me." Malik smirked.

Bakura growled and aimed a punch at his head. However, as he wasn't at the best angle and wasn't even looking at Malik, it sailed over his shoulder.

Malik snickered. "Good aim, Phantom."

Bakura tensed slightly and glared at Malik. "Don't call me that," he hissed, increasing his pace.

Malik's face fell and he glanced at Yami as Bakura pushed through the school doors. "Did I say something wrong?"

Yami didn't even respond as he followed Bakura towards their Geography class.

"Griffin!" Malik protested, but Yami ignored him. He slid into his seat just as their teacher entered the classroom.

"Phoenix, sit down," Professor Crowler called as he picked up his textbook.

Malik hesitated before taking his usual seat beside Bakura. Bakura ignored him

"Alright, class; today we will be quickly revising lakes and then moving on to furamas." Crowler beamed at the class. "Who can tell me what they are?"

Ryou's hand shot up and Bakura rolled his eyes. Seto lazily raised a hand, and as did Marik. Crowler's eyes kept scanning the classroom.

"Ouroboros, how about you?"

Zane Truesdale from Section Two raised an eyebrow before answering, "The lakes are bodies of molten lava that used to contain water. There are three kinds; geyser-full, still, and ridden."

"Excellent, Ouroboros." Crowler smiled and looked around again. "And who knows what the difference between these are?"

Ryou's hand shot up again and Seto lazily raised a hand. Marik hesitated before raising, and then lowering his hand.

Crowler's eyes fixed on him. "How about you, Giraffe?"

"I-uh…"

"You did learn the material, right?"

"Of course I did!" It was a borderline snap, but Crowler didn't call him out on it. "Geyser-full lakes are lakes that are prone to shooting up pyres of lava… S-still lakes are just that; they hold lava but don't erupt in any way, and ridden…" Marik chewed his lip and glanced at Ryou.

Ryou gave him a quick sign. Waves.

"Ridden lakes are choppy and rough, even when there's no wind," Marik quickly said, looking away from Ryou.

Crowler hummed. "Next time, Dove, let your friends answer their questions for themselves."

Ryou tensed, and looked down.

"Today, we'll be moving on to the furamas," Crowler said, pointing a remote at the board. An image of a once-tall area of lumpy, rocky land appeared on screen. "Who knows what these are?"

Yami, Ryou and Seto raised their hands.

Crowler's eyes raked over the class again. "Grimm."

Chazz Princeton sighed. "They're levelled mountains."

"Mountains were?"

"High pieces of land or rock. That particular one is Mount Everest."

"Good," Crowler agreed. Ryou and Seto lowered their hands but Yami's stayed in the air. Crowler frowned at him. "Yes, Griffin?"

"Professor, are you sure that's Mount Everest?" Yami asked.

"Well not anymore, it isn't." Crowler's frown deepened. "But up until six years ago, yes. It was."

"So the tallest mountain in the world was completely levelled in six years?" Yami shook his head. "I'm sorry, professor-" He didn't sound sorry. "-but I don't believe that."

Crowler narrowed his eyes. "Are you questioning this? The ICU's teachings?"

Yami could see Yugi's wide eyes on him. He could see everyone's wide eyes on him.

He folded his arms. "Yes. I am."

Crowler's eyes narrowed. "Follow me, Griffin." He turned towards the door. "The rest of you, open your text books and revise what we learned last week about lakes!"

Yami stood and followed Crowler out of the room. He completely ignored Yugi's attempts to catch his attention.

Crowler's heels clicked as he strode through the halls. Yami's trainers squeaked as he followed close behind.

Once they reached the principal's office, Crowler jerked to a halt and twisted the doorknob, pushing it open.

He glared at Yami as he walked in. Principal Sheppard glanced up from his paperwork and forced a smile. "Can I help you, Professor Crowler?"

Crowler shut the door behind him and grasped Yami's shoulder, his nails digging into his skin. "We have a liberal here."

Sheppard's gaze fell onto Yami before rising to Crowler again. He threaded his fingers and leaned his elbows on the desk. "What happened?"

"Griffin was questioning the material on furamas."

Sheppard just sighed. "Griffin, wait outside."

Yami hesitated but twisted out of Crowler's grip and walking outside. He left the door open a crack.

"Principal Sheppard-"

"Professor Crowler, I will handle it. But don't worry too much. He's a lastard. He won't do a thing about it."

"Are you sure you're okay, man?" Jounouchi asked as he looked over Yami. "You don't look so hot."

Yami shook his head. "I'm fine, Retriever. I was just having a boy-period."

Jounouchi snorted. "Impossible. Giraffe and Necro are the only ones that get that."

Yami cracked a smile. "They've infected me."

"You spend way too much time with them. They're destroying you," Jounouchi laughed.

Yami looked away. "Yeah."

Jounouchi watched him. "You know, even if what they're saying isn't true, that wasn't a good way to go about it. You're only going to antagonise them and, like it or not, they've got a lot more power than us. We're only section seventeen. We're at the bottom of the food chain."

Yami huffed. "Yeah, I know. I still don't believe them. All of that couldn't have happened in eight years."

"You're being too optimistic," Jounouchi decided – as he always did. "Of course it could have happened. We really fucked up the planet."

"But so soon?" Yami shook his head. "I can't believe that. Someone once said global warming was like leaving a car on in a closed garage. Slowly, the gas fills up the garage and kills whoever's in there. But it's slow, and painful. And when they were screaming for help, we were listening to music. Now their death is inevitable, but it'll be slow. Even if you get to them before they die. Global warming wouldn't have taken effect so quickly."

"Eight years is a long time," Jounouchi muttered.

"Not if you take into account how long the world has been here," Yami insisted. "It only seems like a long time because that's how long we've been here!"

Jounouchi sighed. "Look, Griff, I'm not saying you're wrong. I'm not saying that you're right either. But you can't just go doing that stuff. People are going to think you're-"

"The Artist, right?" Yami shook his head. "I'm not."

"Mhm."

"I'm not, Retriever."

"I know." Jounouchi nodded. "I believe you."

"Too bad I don't."

Yami yelped as he was slammed against the wall. He looked up to see beady eyes, a crooked nose and a mop of greasy black hair.

"Let go o' him!" Jounouchi snarled, pulling Ushio away. His accent was already growing harsher – as it always did when he was angry.

Ushio growled and elbowed him away. "Stay out of this, Retriever," he snarled. "The Artist is mine."

Yami darted out of his reach. "I'm not the Artist!"

"I have proof!" Ushio snarled. "You're the Artist! There's no point in trying to hide it!" He lunged again, but Jounouchi leapt onto his back. Ushio tried to knock him off. "Get off!"

"Griffin, get out of here!" Jounouchi called as Ushio backed up and slammed him into a wall.

Yami growled and fumbled for the lighter in his pocket. Before he could even pull it out, a rock hit Ushio's nose. Hard.

Ushio howled and fell away from the wall. Jounouchi dropped unsteadily to his feet.

Yami glanced behind him to see Seto striding towards them, briefcase in hand. As always.

He was one of the only two seventeeners that made it big.

"Fucking lastard," Ushio growled, clutching his nose.

"You're in the same section as us, smartass," Jounouchi sneered, hugging his chest.

Seto didn't even respond. He just grabbed Ushio by his jacket and hauled him up. "Get out of here."

He threw Ushio down again and Ushio scrambled away.

Yami glanced at Seto. "Thanks, Blue."

Seto ignored him, glancing at Jounouchi. "That was stupid."

Jounouchi glared at him. "What was that?"

"I said that was stupid," Seto repeated. "He's twice your height, nearly four times your weight, and you decided to jump on his back?"

Jounouchi growled. "It's none of your business!"

"Whatever." Seto shrugged. "I don't care anyway."

"Then why the fuck did you say it?" Jounouchi snapped. Once again, Seto only shrugged. "Fine. Be that way." Jounouchi turned away. "I'm going to work. See you later, Griffin."

Yami glanced at Seto as Jounouchi walked away. "That wasn't very nice."

"I'm not nice." Seto glanced back at him. "You should know this by now."

"I do," Yami agreed. "But considering you like him, I thought you'd be a bit nicer."

Seto's eyes widened and disbelief flashed through them. "Me? Like that mutt?" He shook his head. "You're deluded, Yami."

Yami didn't even see him wince from the burn of his locket. He wasn't even sure if they bothered punishing Seto anymore. He just didn't care. "I disagree."

Seto folded his arms. "Even if I did like him – which I don't – it's not important. Grizzly said he had proof of you being the Artist?"

"I'm not," Yami insisted. "You know I'm not."

Seto raised an eyebrow. "I think you'd be smarter than to let him catch you."

Yami's eyes widened. "You think I'm the Artist."

"I didn't say that." Seto turned away. "What I'm saying is to be more careful. Even if you're not."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Otogi asked with a smirk as Yugi shuffled his deck. "You know I'm going to win."

Yugi smiled at him. "If you do, then I'll play your game with you," he said. "And if you don't, then you tell me who you like."

"I still don't get why you want to know," Otogi muttered as he watched Yugi shuffle.

"Because." Yugi shrugged. "I just do." He split his deck and handed it back to Otogi. "There you go."

Otogi took it and handed Yugi back his deck. "Well I want to know why."

Yugi smiled at him. "You'll find out why after this duel." He drew his hand and glanced over it. "I set one card face down and summon Queen's Knight in defence mode. I end my turn."

Otogi rolled his eyes and picked his hand. "I summon Yaranzo in defence mode and set two cards. End turn."

Yugi frowned at the set cards and drew. "I-" He jumped as someone knocked on the door of the recreational room. "Come in!"

Ryou pushed open the door, hands moving rapidly as he tried to sign.

Yugi shook his head. "Dove, slow down!" He didn't know much sign language.

Ryou took a deep breath. The Artist's back and Zorc's angry, he signed.

Well, actually he signed; Artist. Back. Zorc. Angry. But Yugi got the message.

"What's he saying?" Otogi asked as Yugi stood up.

"It's the Artist again," Yugi mumbled as they followed Ryou outside.

Sure enough, painted along the wall read in blood red writing was another quote. The revolution you dream of is not ours. You don't want to change the world, you want to blow it up.

"That doesn't make sense," Otogi muttered as Zorc's glare raked over the crowd. "The world is already destroyed."

I don't think he cares, Ryou wrote. He had been too panicked to write when fetching them.

Yugi nodded in silent agreement.

"As you can see," Zorc growled once he saw that everyone who wasn't at work was present, "the Artist hasn't handed himself-"

"Or herself," Anzu muttered.

"-in. I'm not going to give out. I know you're just as sick of this as I am." Zorc's smirk paired with his glare was just as terrifying as the glare itself. "Therefore all I'm going to say is until the Artist hands themselves in, you are not permitted to leave your rooms for any reasons other than school, work or to talk to me. Anyone caught doing so will be punished just as severely as the Artist will be."

They were too shocked to protest as he turned away.

"He can't," Honda muttered. "Right?"

"I think you'll find that I can do whatever I please, Chimp," Zorc called over his shoulder. Honda tensed. "Now all of you get back to your rooms. Unless the Artist wants to hand themselves in now?" Everyone was silent. "I thought as much. Go."

Lunch was always a bit of a debacle with Bakura.

Something always seemed to happen.

There was a fight, or the shed went on fire (which wasn't his fault!), and he always seemed to be in the middle of it.

But he wasn't usually the cause of it.

He didn't look up from the Zippo lighter he was flicking open and closed as Keith approached. "What do you want?" He asked, his gaze flicking to the people Keith had with him.

Bonz. Sid. Zygor. Not much of a threat. If he wasn't in trouble.

Keith rested an arm against the wall Bakura was leaning against; just over his head. "I hear you've been doing a bit of artwork recently, Touzoku. That project in art of the angel becoming a demon? Pretty sweet."

Bakura raised an eyebrow and flicked the lighter closed. "Yeah? I thought so too. I preferred the severed head personally."

"Nah. The demon was better," Keith disagreed, leaning closer. "The quote above it was good too. What was it again?" He looked back at Sid. "What was it?"

Sid smirked. "They say dreams can come true, but forget to mention that nightmares are dreams too."

"Yeah, that one." Keith turned back to him. "You finished that – what? – four, five days ago?"

"Five," Bakura confirmed. He flicked the lighter open and sparked a flame before closing it again. "What's your point, Lynx?"

"Didn't the Artist use that the next day and say something about this being a nightmare?" Keith asked, leaning his hand down to brush Bakura's hair.

Bakura leaned out of his immediate reach. "What's your point, Lynx?" He repeated, opening the lighter.

Keith reached out and dug his fingers through Bakura's arctic white hair. "My point is you're going to confess and get our restrictions taken away, Artist," he hissed.

Bakura gritted his teeth as Keith's grip on his hair tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh I think you do," Keith disagreed. "Most of section seventeen agrees that you're the Artist."

"Most meaning you four at the twerp of a bird?" Bakura snapped. "Five out of twenty one isn't most, dweeb."

Keith pushed Bakura's head back into the wall, his nails digging into his scalp. "I wouldn't be running your mouth if I was you, Necro," he growled. "It's four on one."

"True," Bakura growled. "Get another six on your side and it might be a fair fight." He hacked as Keith punched him in the gut and threw him to the ground.

Keith crouched down beside him and forced Bakura's face into the ground. "Why don't you just admit it?" He asked as Bakura tried to force himself up. "Just say you're the Artist and this will all end."

"I'm not," Bakura hissed.

Keith stood up and kicked Bakura in the stomach. His steel-toed boot wasn't quite blocked by Bakura's arms.

Sid, Zygor and Bonz took the kick as an invitation to join in, and Bakura curled up, trying to protect his head and stomach from the assault.

He couldn't help but peek up when one of his attackers was yanked away with a yelp.

The kicks stopped for a minute, so Bakura was able to catch a glimpse of the school uniform and white hair.

Ryou.

A smirk formed on Bakura's face, despite his swelling lip. The fool was going to get himself killed.

"Stay out of this, Dove," Zygor growled, but Ryou only reached over and jabbed Sid's neck.

Sid crumpled to the ground.

Zygor and Keith lunged at him, but Ryou swerved around the attacks. Bonz began to pick himself up, so Ryou jumped over him and allowed Zygor to trip over his comrade.

The two tumbled to the ground.

Keith grabbed something gleaming from his pocket. Bakura's eyes widened and he tried to force himself up, but Ryou had already seen the blade and knocked it out of Keith's hand with his elbow.

He grabbed Keith's arm and pinched a space on Keith's elbow, and the boy collapsed.

Zygor and Bonz clambered to their feet. Ryou was still tense, ready for their attack, but they took one look at their fallen comrades and scattered.

Ryou breathed a silent sigh of relief and offered a hand to help Bakura up. Bakura looked at it for a minute before struggling to his feet on his own.

Ryou huffed. You're welcome, he signed.

"I didn't thank you," Bakura muttered.

Ryou paused and blinked. You sign?

Bakura shrugged. "It's a useful skill." He leaned against the wall for support and raised a hand to his nose. Blood. His lip. Blood. His head. Blood.

Ryou winced as he got a proper look at Bakura. Let me help.

Bakura shook his head. "No point," he replied. "I'll be fine. It'll heal on its own."

But you're bleeding… Badly… Ryou protested. He reached out to touch Bakura's nose, but Bakura whacked his hand away. Ryou frowned. Stop being stubborn.

"Piss off." Bakura glared at him. "I didn't ask for your help."

So I should have let them beat you to a bloody pulp because you're the Artist? Ryou raised an eyebrow.

Bakura narrowed his eyes and grabbed Ryou by the hem of his shirt. He wasn't sure why Ryou didn't retaliate.

He never seemed strong or adept at fighting, but what Bakura had just witnessed proved differently.

Maybe Ryou felt sorry for him? He didn't want to fight an injured lastard?

Whatever the reason, he didn't attack.

"I'm not the Artist," Bakura hissed. "No matter what anyone says, I'm not the Artist. Got it?"

He roughly released Ryou and turned away so he couldn't see Ryou sign anymore.

As he limped away, he could have sworn he heard a whispered, "Wait…"

But he couldn't have. Ryou was mute.

So Bakura didn't look back.

Atem glanced at his brother from across the class.

Yami was yawning and resting his head against the window. Dark bags adorned his eyes, and his skin was paler than usual.

"You should talk to him."

Atem turned to see Heba watching him. "No." He looked at his history book.

Heba sighed, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. "It's going to eat at you again. It always does."

"We're meant to be studying," Atem muttered stubbornly, inching closer to the book. "Not chatting."

"At-" Atem shot him a look as Heba's bracelet began to itch. "Strix. Talk to him."

"I'm not going to talk to him," Atem hissed. "And he's already made it perfectly clear that he doesn't want to talk to me either."

"That's because he thinks you hate him," Heba pressed.

"Lion," Banner called, "no talking during study period."

If it was any other teacher, Heba would have gotten yet another restriction.

"Sorry, sir," Heba said, looking down at his book. No more than two minutes later, he looked at Atem again. "Come on. Give it a try."

"I already said no," Atem insisted, highlighting a line in his book in red.

The door slid open and Akefia walked in.

"Diabound," Banner said, looking up. "Where were you five minutes ago when class started?"

"Sorry, sir." Akefia shrugged. "Bathroom. Didn't think you'd appreciate me going on one of your seats."

A small, amused smile crossed Banner's face. "Much appreciated. Next time, come to me for a toilet pass first."

"Will do." Akefia turned and walked to the last available seat. Behind Atem.

Atem scowled at him as he passed and highlighted another line in red.

"Strix-"

"We're done talking about this, Lion."

"No we're not!" Heba insisted. "You need to talk to him!"

"Talk to who?" Akefia asked, leaning closer.

Atem's scowl deepened. "It's none of your business," he muttered.

Akefia glanced at Heba. "Can I make it my business?"

Heba shrugged. "Go ahead."

Akefia looked back at Atem. "Now it's my business. What's going on?"

"Piss off," Atem muttered, highlighting another line, digging the marker further into the page.

Heba sighed and glanced at Akefia. "He's refusing to talk to his brother."

"Again?" Akefia sighed. "I thought even you gave up on this."

Heba shook his head. "I'm not giving up on it until he talks to him."

Akefia let out a low whistle. "Come on, Strix. That's a long time to be bugged by someone as stubborn as Lion and me."

"It's none of your business," Atem repeated, glaring at him over his shoulder.

"Strix," Banner called, "please focus on your work."

Atem's face heated up and he whipped back around to his textbook. "Sorry sir," he muttered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yami snicker.

"What have you got to lose?" Akefia whispered. "He already hates you."

"Gee, thanks," Atem muttered.

"It's a fact," Akefia said flatly. "Most of the section hates you. You haven't given them much to like, frankly."

Atem rolled his eyes. "I don't care. I do my job."

Heba saw Akefia grit his teeth. Atem's job was always a sharp subject around the two. That's why they always tried to avoid it.

Naturally, it popped up nearly every time they tried to have a conversation. That, or Akefia's, Bakura's or Yami's job.

None of them were good topics.

Before Akefia could say something that would send them both into spirals of anger, Heba placed a hand over Atem's.

Atem tensed at the contact.

"Strix, talk to him," Heba said softly. "Diabound's right. What have you got to lose? Worst case scenario, it doesn't help."

"No, worst case scenario, he kills me or it makes him hate me even more," Atem mumbled.

"It won't," Heba insisted. "Trust me. Talk to him."

Atem cast a glance at his brother, his hand relaxing under Heba's. "I'll visit him at work."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Akefia asked. He sounded as tense as Atem had been moments before.

"It'll be fine." Atem began highlighting lines in his book again. "Now both of you leave me alone and let me study."

Heba and Akefia shared a grin before turning back to their own work. They both still knew exactly how to get Atem to do something he didn't want to do.

Despite everything that had happened between the three, and as unlikely as it seemed, Atem was not only wrapped around Heba's little finger, but Akefia's too.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the stage of Millennials, Phantom and Pharaoh!"

"You ready?" Yami muttered to Bakura.

Bakura smirked and nodded. "Born ready." Yami could see that his eyes were glazed over. He didn't want to be there any more than Yami did.

Yami went on-stage first as the chords to one of the top songs from the band in section one – Sand Dunes – began to play.

Yami swayed with the music, a smug grin on his face as he twirled around the pole fastened to the centre stage.

His golden jewellery swayed with him, clinking together as he changed direction.

His crown was fastened into his hair by pins thanks to Miho from section five; it was the only stationary thing about him now.

His red fringe had been fluffed together with his black roots and blonde bangs to form a sunset of colours, and his robes swished behind him.

It had taken a lot of practice to be able to dance in them without tripping.

The sandals on his feet were stationary too, but no one was paying any real attention to them.

Bakura came on about halfway through the song.

If Yami was a cloud, Bakura was vapour. His white hair had been braided and fell over his shoulder, and he wore tight, ripped black shorts and a loose t-shirt; the shoulder of it hung around his right elbow.

All he wore was black to draw attention to his pale skin and stark white hair. He wore no shoes or jewellery and the only make-up he wore was eyeliner.

He swayed around Yami, blocking his escape from the stage with fluid movements and backing him up into the pole.

Yami slid around to the other side, but Bakura caught him around the waist and pulled him back so Yami was pressed against it.

A few calls of appreciation rang up from the drunken audience as Bakura leaned in as though to kiss the side of Yami's neck. "Now?" He whispered.

Yami nodded slightly in confirmation. He slid down the pole to escape Bakura's arms, but Bakura caught his ankle as he tried to escape yet again.

Yami fell and twisted as Bakura crawled over him.

With synchronised movements, they drew to the end. Yami would move a hand back and shift backwards, Bakura would move a hand and knee forwards to catch up with him.

Just as the last of the song faded, Bakura dipped his head to make it look like he kissed Yami.

A few more calls rang out as the two scrambled off-stage to leave room for Akiza.

But not before Yami caught his brother's gaze.

"Good dance," Bakura muttered, grabbing a bottle of water as soon as they were out of sight. "Are we up again tonight?"

Yami shook his head. "No, I… I think we're off," he mumbled.

Bakura frowned at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Yami nodded. "Yeah, I just… I just need to check something out."

He pulled his jacket on over his costume and walked out from backstage. Atem was waiting for him by the door.

"Nice dance," he commented. "So are you and Necro…?"

"No." Yami shook his head. "Gods no. He's like a brother to me." He folded his arms. "The brother I never had."

Atem flinched and looked away.

Good, Yami decided. He deserved to feel ashamed. "So why are you here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Atem said slowly.

"About?" Yami raised an eyebrow. "I don't have all night."

Atem's gaze flickered to the stage. Akiza was wearing a pink, glittering bra and matching pair of booty shorts with black heels.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" He muttered.

Yami shook his head. "I can't believe you."

"Yami-"

"No. I can't believe you're bringing this up again." Yami glared at Atem. "This is my life, Strix. And you can't take that away from me."

"Yes, but this?" Atem waved a hand at the stage. "Is this really what you want for the rest of your life?"

"No!" Yami snapped. "You know what I want to do? I want to get the fuck out of here! I want out-" He lowered his voice. "I want out of the ICU. I don't want to live in Ice Cubes anymore. But that's not going to happen."

"You're right," Atem agreed. "It's not. So why waste your life here?"

"Because I like it!" Yami growled. "Is that really so hard to believe? I like going up on stage, and I like dancing!"

"And you like whoring yourself out to these pigs?" Atem snarled. His snarl dropped. "Gods. I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

Yami held up a hand. "Save it," he hissed. "I don't know why I even bothered coming out to talk to you."

"Yam-"

"No! You don't get to call me that!" Yami prodded Atem's chest.

Atem sighed. "All I meant is you could get a much better job. A safer one."

"You mean like yours or Blue's?" Yami growled. "You're both just tokens, Strix. They let you get those jobs so they could say to the rest of us, 'Look, two of you made it big. It's not our fault if the rest of you lastards can't make the cut'."

Atem flinched at the word. "Don't say that."

"What, lastard?" Yami laughed. "Lastard, lastard, lastard. You're a fucking lastard, Strix."

"Shut up." Atem clenched his fists. "We're in the first twenty five."

"Yes," Yami agreed. "But we're seventeen. Seven through ten are lastards. So are seventeen through twenty, twenty seven through thirty, thirty seven through forty and forty seven through fifty. We're lastards."

Atem's lip twitched. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Okay," Yami agreed. "How about this? The great officer Strix has a stripper for a brother." Yami glared at him and leaned closer. "And you know what? That stripper is happy to be one." He whipped around and began to walk away. "Don't bother coming back here, Strix."

"Wait!" Atem called, but Yami disappeared into the crowd.

"Hey, do you think the Deep Sea legendary should be a shark? Or a tiny little flounder-like Pokémon?"

"I don't know."

Yugi set down his pen. "What about the Sky High one? Pegasus or crow?"

"I don't know."

"What's your name?"

"I don't know."

Yugi sighed softly and placed his hand over Yami's. "Griffin…"

Yami met his gaze. "Yes?"

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"I'm going to keep asking until you tell me." Yugi folded his arms.

Yami shook his head. "It's nothing for you to worry about," he rephrased. "Just… sibling drama. You don't want to get mixed up in it. Trust me."

"If I didn't want to get mixed up in it, I wouldn't have asked." Yugi closed the notebook.

Yami opened it. "Forget it. We need to have the information sorted out by tomorrow."

Yugi closed it again. "And we won't be able to do that if you're distracted like this all night."

Yami sighed. His hand rested on the notebook, but he didn't open it. "Why do they call us lastards?" He wondered. "Fifty sections, and yet anything close to a ten is a lastard section. Nines, eights, sevens. All lastards. Why?"

Yugi shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe because of the second figure? Traditionally, the further back the number, the lesser it is."

"But then shouldn't the last ten be the lastards instead of every section ending with a nine, eight or seven?" Yami pressed. "It doesn't make sense."

"Discrimination in general doesn't make sense," Yugi pointed out. "And I know this theory over a swear isn't why you're distracted."

"It is," Yami insisted. Or lied. Lied was the more correct term, but he preferred insisted. "Why is it there? Why is it a swear? Why is it us?"

"Yami," Yugi said softly, "tell me what's going on."

Yami's gaze lowered to the wooden table. "Don't bother worrying over it," he muttered. "Nothing's going to change."

"But talking about it might make you feel better," Yugi argued. "Please?" Yami looked up at him. "You helped me out with my Grandpa a few days ago. Let me help you now."

Yami shook his head. "You really don't give up, do you?"

Yugi smiled softly. "After all these years of knowing me, you're only realising that now?"

Yami cracked a small, unsure grin. Then it faded. "It's just my brother. He's… hard to deal with."

Yugi's smile became a soft grimace. "Strix, right?" Yami nodded. "What did he do?"

Yami sighed. "He dropped into Millennials last night to 'talk'."

"'Talk'?" Yugi pressed.

"He basically just ended up calling me a whore," Yami muttered.

Yugi hesitated. "You don't… do you?"

Yami shook his head. "Gods no. No, Millennials doesn't do that. That's The Dart you're thinking of." Yugi nodded, relief flashing through his eyes. "But he said it."

Yugi slowly took Yami's hand. "He didn't mean it."

"Yes he did," Yami insisted. "I know he did." He decided not to mention that Atem had apologised. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Yugi nodded. "Alright," he murmured. "I'm here if you want to talk about it again though."

Yami smiled. "I know, Calico."

When a hand covered Heru's mouth, he knew better than to scream.

He didn't waste his breath. He kicked and struggled as he was pulled behind the school, but he didn't scream.

When none of his kicks made contact, he bit the hand of whoever grabbed him.

His captor cursed and released him. "Jeez, Ru, you have to be so harsh?"

Heru whipped around, panting slightly. "Diabound?"

Akefia grinned at him. "Bingo." Heru growled and hit his chest. "Ow!" Akefia frowned and rubbed the area. "What was that for?"

"For scaring me, asshole." Heru let out a breath. "I thought it was one of those dicks from section one again."

Akefia lowered his hand. "Sorry."

Heru shook his head. "Just don't do it again." When Akefia nodded, he folded his arms. "What do you want?"

Akefia grinned and dipped a hand into his pocket. "You thought I forgot."

Heru gave a noncommittal grunt.

Akefia forgot dates all the time. Heru didn't expect him to remember their one-year anniversary.

But Akefia pulled a necklace out of his pocket. The stone was pale purple and carved into a smooth teardrop, and a rope of silver laced around it in an 'x'. It was connected to a silver chain, which dangled from Akefia's fingers. "Happy anniversary."

Heru smiled slightly as Akefia unclasped it and hooked it around his neck. The sight made Akefia grin.

It took a lot of work to make Heru smile.

Then the smile dropped as Heru further examined the necklace. "Where did you get this?"

"The jewellery shop on first street," Akefia replied.

"And you weren't caught?" Heru raised an eyebrow.

Akefia narrowed his eyes. "What makes you think I stole it?"

The other eyebrow rose to join the first.

Akefia sighed. "No, I wasn't caught."

Well, it wasn't a lie. He wasn't caught the second time. And he knew Atem hadn't told the sales clerk. Otherwise Akefia would have another restriction.

He wasn't sure how many more he could get; the whole of section seventeen had as many restrictions as they knew of. But he had a feeling Zorc would manage to give him another.

Heru smiled slightly again. "Good," he mumbled, leaning up.

Akefia leaned down and kissed Heru. "So where's my present?" He murmured with a grin, his lips still brushing against Heru's.

Heru huffed and pulled away. "You really don't have a patient bone in your body, do you?"

"Nope," Akefia grinned and popped the 'p'.

Heru rolled his eyes bug dug into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a pouch out of his pocket.

Akefia raised an eyebrow as Heru handed it to him. "What's in it?"

"Open it."

"What, no three guesses?"

"Just open the damn present."

Akefia grinned and pulled the strings, allowing the pouch to fall open. Inside was a brass pocket watch on a matching chain.

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

A smirk tugged at Heru's lips. "I told you it was time to get a watch. You're never on time."

Akefia looked up at him, grinning. "Really?"

Heru's smirk grew and he turned away. A bell rang in the distance. "See? You're affecting me. We're going to be late for curfew if we don't go now."

Akefia caught Heru's wrist and pulled him back, pressing their lips together. "Doesn't affect us," he said as he pulled away. "We've got jobs."

"Stealing doesn't count." Heru winked. "And check the bag."

Akefia frowned and checked the pouch. There was a piece of paper at the bottom. A receipt. Heru actually paid for it; he never paid for anything.

Akefia looked up again to thank Heru, but he was already running towards section seventeen.

Akefia grinned and chased after him. "Race you!"

"What are you? Five?" Heru snapped, but he sped up as Akefia neared him.

"Hypocrite!" Akefia laughed.

"Oh, just shut up!"

DD: Thoughts? We've gotten this far anyway and I'm beginning to see and end of the story (don't worry; not for a while) so hopefully I'll actually finish this story! Please review. See you next time, Killer Queens!