Chapter Text
Malik Ishtar definitely looks the part in his Domino High uniform – he’s even got the jacket fully buttoned to under his chin, something most students don’t bother with. His face is bare of kohl, his gold pendant earrings are absent, and his hair is tied neatly into a ponytail. His expression is polite and placid as he’s introduced by the homeroom teacher.
“We have a new student this year,” says Mr Karita – and continues, with a glance at Ryou, “and this one had the common sense to show up at a decent time of year.”
Ryou doesn’t blink, pretends he doesn’t understand. Sometimes he wishes Mr Karita could remember the Monster World Incident, but really, it’s much better that he doesn’t. Besides, the other Yugi learnt his name and returned to the afterlife, the Millennium Ring is buried under the sands of Egypt – that whole chapter is over in their lives. Now it’s time for their final year of high school. An ordinary year; a year without ghosts.
“This is Marik- Malik- whatever, Ishtar,” continues Mr Karita. “Write your name on the board, introduce yourself, hurry up!”
Malik’s expression remains completely impassive. He writes his name on the chalkboard in flawless katakana, then turns back to the classroom and bows.
“I’ll be joining you for your final year,” says Malik. “Please take care of me.”
“Take that spare seat,” says Karita, and points Malik to the desk and chair closest to the classroom door. Malik goes quietly, doesn’t draw attention to himself, even though there are already whispers. Ryou considers trying to catch his eye but, well, why? It’s not as if he and Malik were close. Ryou can barely remember any of Battle City and only knows of Malik what the others have told him: raised in a tomb, dark side, mind control, allied with the Spirit of the Ring?, Duel Monsters, dark side banished, went home.
If only Yugi was in this class! They’ve been separated this year: Ryou, Malik, Kaiba, and Jonouchi in one class, Yugi, Anzu, Honda, and Otogi in the other.
“Right, now that’s over with,” says Karita. “Listen up! This is your final year here in Domino High, so don’t you dare slack off! Some of you will be making your college applications, though most of you will fail! At the end of this year is your big trip but remember, kids, we can stop anyone going if we feel they don’t deserve it!”
He looks at Ryou again, who is studying Malik’s writing on the chalkboard. You wouldn’t know Japanese is a second language to him.
Karita hands a stack of papers to Malik. “Find yours, pass it along. These are your timetables for this year. Don’t lose them ‘cos we’re not printing any more copies!”
When the pile is passed to him, Ryou takes his timetable and passes the rest to the person seated in front of him. He glances at Malik again but still, he seems perfectly at ease with his surroundings and is carefully folding his timetable into a slim purple notebook. When he closes the cover Ryou catches a brief glimpse of the words ‘Homework Planner.’
He flushes, turns back to his own timetable, and reads it without processing a single word.
Why in the world did Ryou assume that Malik would be unfamiliar with the basics of school? How patronising! In any case – surely questions he had about Domino High were answered by Yugi? The Ishtars moved to Japan a month and a half ago, but this is the first time Ryou’s seen Malik since the Pharaoh’s Ceremonial Duel – Yugi said that Isis had requested they not bombard Malik, let him settle into his new country in his own time. Surely he’s been seeing Yugi, though. No one could feel bombarded by Yugi.
“Excuse me,” says Malik, and Ryou’s head shoots up. Malik’s staring at Karita.
“Yes?” says Karita. He looks like he wants Malik to say something wrong.
“Where are the changing rooms and the gym?” Malik asks, and he’s still so calm.
Karita glares, like Malik’s ignorance is intentional, then glances down at the attendance sheet. “Guess I should get someone to show you around.” He grins nastily, and Ryou’s stomach plummets. “Bakura-kun – I’m putting you in charge of helping Malik-kun settle in. Think you can handle that? Think you can remember where everything is?”
Despite everything, Ryou had once held a perfect record of 100% attendance. The Spirit of the Ring had not thought that a priority.
“Yes, sir,” Ryou says.
He glances over at Malik. Their eyes meet for the briefest of moments.
Oh, shoot – should Ryou have stood up? Come to think of it, does Malik even remember who he is? They barely spoke in Egypt. Ryou, along with everyone else, had been focused on comforting Yugi regarding the loss of his Other Self. As for Battle City – again, Ryou has very few, fuzzy memories. That tournament was mostly participated in by the Spirit-
Oh.
The others said Malik and the Spirit might have worked together.
Ryou takes a deep breath and looks hard at his desk. The bell will ring soon, and the first lesson of the new year will begin. He can distract himself with that.
You’re just not interesting, little host!
*
At morning break Ryou takes his time putting his stuff in his desk. He’s going to keep it organised this year. Last year it had been a mess of papers, pencils, pens, and Duel Monsters cards, and had taken hours to clear and sort. (Apparently he’d had some very rare and valuable cards lurking in that catastrophe, much to Jounouchi’s chagrin). He places books on one side, pencil case on the other, and when he closes the lid he looks up and yelps at the sight of Malik standing patiently in front of his desk.
“This a good time to show me around?” he asks.
“Oh!” says Ryou. He wonders if he looks as flustered as he feels. Probably; hiding his feelings has always been damnably hard. “Yes, of course – do you want to get anything? If you’re hungry. The cafeteria doesn’t have much more than snacks but it’s better than nothing…”
Malik shakes his head and holds up an apple Ryou hadn’t noticed. It’s very red.
“Rishid packed my lunch,” Malik says.
Rishid. The tall one with the scary face. The idea of him turning that permanent glare on a boxed lunch is strangely funny, in a hysterical kind of way.
“That’s good!” says Ryou. He gets to his feet, knocking his desk in the process, and when he tries to leave he catches his ankle on the chair leg and almost topples face-first to the floor. A quick glance at Malik shows that he… has a completely unreadable expression.
“Oi! Bakura-kun!” says Jonouchi. He’s on his way to the classroom door, but stops before reaching it – probably distracted by Ryou’s near-fall. “Take care, okay? I’m going next door if you want to come.”
Ryou shakes his head. “Thank you, Jonouchi-san, but I’m going to show Ishtar-san around.” Jonouchi looks at Malik. “That’s cool. The invitation’s for the both of you, you know. Come hang with us when you’re done!”
With that he leaves, clearly in a hurry to get to their friends next door. Poor Jonouchi, separated from both Yugi and Honda. Ryou can’t say he’s thrilled with the classroom arrangements this year but it will doubtless hit Jonouchi hardest – Ryou’s spent a long time without conversation partners in the classroom, but Jonouchi is very social. He’ll undoubtedly join the other class at every opportunity.
“Shall we, um, get going?” says Ryou to Malik.
He shrugs. “If you’re ready.”
“Well, ah, this is our classroom,” says Ryou as they begin walking. He’s already feeling like an idiot. “And out here is… the corridor. Next door is class A, on the other side is Class C, and down there,” he gestures, “is last year’s classes. Um. Oh! Here’s the toilets, um, that’s… probably useful for you to know…?”
Malik nods seriously.
“And, uh, here’s the stairs. Up goes to the roof but we’re not meant to go there – it doesn’t stop anyone, obviously. Apparently the fence is weak but Yugi-kun says they’ve been saying that for years and it’s never been replaced so… everyone just goes up when they want to. Um, down here we’ve got the rooms for the first years and art. Oh, and the library. It’s pretty nice, no one ever really goes in except, ah,” Ryou’s face flushes, “couples. Um, now, ground floor, there’s… science classrooms are that way, cafeteria’s that way, there’s the entrance and reception – I mean, obviously, that’s where you came in – and, um, over there’s the nurse’s office. If you go left you get to the building with the main hall and clubrooms, and if you go right you get to the gym and changing rooms and past that the swimming pool. Any… questions…?”
“Yes,” says Malik. “Does everyone always walk into you?”
It’s the strongest emotion Ryou has seen on the other’s face so far. He’s frowning in irritation, glaring at anyone who gets close to him, and holding his arms close to his chest.
“Um,” says Ryou. He smiles apologetically. “I’m afraid so. It might be because you’re with me. I seem to turn invisible in crowds.”
Malik’s frown deepens.
“And is it always so damn loud?” he snaps suddenly.
Ryou can’t say he noticed anything above the usual breaktime hubbub. “I… suppose so?” he says. “We could go to Yugi-kun’s classroom if you like. It’s probably quieter in there…”
“I’m going to the library,” says Malik. “At least people making out are normally quiet about it.”
He turns and walks back up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He has nice legs, Ryou notes absently.
“Um,” Ryou says, but Malik is out of earshot, around the corner of the stairwell, and gone.
Wow, says a part of Ryou’s mind. Well done, you pathetic child.
Ryou sighs and climbs back up the stairs, at a much slower pace than the one Malik had adopted.
By the time he reaches the door to Yugi’s classroom break ends.
*
Ryou lowers himself onto his bed when he gets home and stares at the ceiling. He should do his homework. Get his books ready for tomorrow. Maybe eat? At least change out of his uniform. He should go out and buy a cellphone. His father’s said before that Ryou can have one if he wants. Oh, what if he paints some figures? He’s not done that in a while. He could see what’s on TV, get into a new anime, read a book, read a manga, do anything.
He lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling.
He touches his empty chest, fingers running up to his bare throat.
He hadn’t been nice. He was devious and cruel and manipulative. He treated Ryou like an oblivious infant and hand-fed him lies with filthy fingers. He promised his own twisted kindness and every time, every damn time, Ryou fell for it. Deluded himself that he was strong enough to hold in this evil, clever enough to outsmart it, loving enough to keep his friends safe from it. Ryou will always bear the scars that he inflicted on this body.
It’s much better that he’s gone.
Yet his voice had been so good at drowning out Ryou’s quiet thoughts.
Ryou closes his eyes.
*
On his second day at Domino High Malik Ishtar wears tasteful winged eyeliner and gold stud earrings. The top few buttons of his jacket are undone but otherwise his uniform is correct.
It’s not that Ryou’s watching of course; not in the changing room.
“I need another vacation already,” Jonouchi moans. He pulls his gym shirt over his head and sits down on the bench running along the walls, grabbing his trainers as he goes.
Yugi’s giving Jonouchi a sympathetic smile – the year regroups for gym, so the gang is reunited.
Ryou unbuttons his own school shirt. He wears a white vest beneath it. Glancing downwards, Ryou notes vaguely that he’s going to have to begin wearing a thicker one.
Are his ribs so obvious to everyone else?
He doesn’t hate his body. It’s just not a priority.
A hand touches his arm gently and he jumps. Yugi’s looking at him with concern. The smaller boy dons a reassuring smile when Ryou’s eyes meet his.
“Are you okay, Bakura-kun?” he asks quietly.
Ryou nods, quickly turning away to dig through his gym bag for his uniform. “Ah, yes. Sorry, Yugi-kun, I just drifted off…”
Yugi nods. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” he says in a hushed tone. “Not wearing it any more…”
For a moment Ryou wonders what in the world he’s talking about – then he glances at the absence on Yugi’s chest.
“Yes,” Ryou says. “Yes, it’s strange.”
“You two better hurry up,” says Honda, though he’s not unkind. He’s already dressed in his gym clothes. “Don’t want to get on Karita-sensei’s bad side already, right?”
Yugi thanks their friend and finishes tying his shoes. Ryou turns his back to them and changes quickly, revealing as little of his skin as possible. He’s the last ready but the others wait for him anyway and they head into the gymnasium as a group, Yugi sticking close to Ryou’s side. They tend to partner together for Phys Ed, both being similarly physically awful; for assessments, they partner with Jonouchi and Honda respectively for better grades.
Karita glares at them as they enter. “What a surprise that you’re the last ones in,” he sneers.
Otogi and Jonouchi shift so they’re blocking Karita’s view of Ryou.
“Right, everyone, listen up. You might think that because this is your last year you can slack off in this class, but there’s no way I’m letting that happen.”
Ryou glances to the side. Kaiba Seto’s sitting on a bench, studying his phone, still in his regular uniform.
“Malik-kun!” Karita suddenly barks, and Ryou jumps.
“Mm?” says Malik. He’s got his hair tied up.
“Are you wearing earrings?!”
“Oh, yeah,” Malik says. He shrugs. “They’re only studs.”
Karita’s face turns red. “They’re jewellery! No jewellery is to be worn in school!”
“Really?” says Malik.
Ryou leans further around Otogi to get a better look at the drama. Everyone’s staring, but Malik doesn’t look at all cowed. He’s got his thumbs in his shorts’ pockets and appears completely relaxed and self-confident. If anything, he looks as if Karita should be the one publicly shamed.
“I know it’s in the school rules,” Malik continues, “so I didn’t wear any yesterday but there were so many girls wearing makeup and jewellery anyway I figured…” He shrugs again. “You didn’t even notice this morning, right?”
“Wow,” Jonouchi breathes.
Karita’s going from red to purple.
“They’re the school rules! You… you are a boy!”
“Yeah?” says Malik. “Sir, they’re earrings. I’ve not come to school in goddamn lingerie.”
Some of the boys snort. There’s a tension in Malik’s shoulders now, the fingers resting on his hips curling as if he wants to make fists.
Karita’s sputtering in the face of Malik’s refusal to be chastened. He turns his head slightly and spots Ryou.
Ryou pales and tries to duck back behind Otogi.
“And you!” Karita says, pointing at Ryou. “If you’re insisting on having such ridiculous hair, at least have the decency to tie it up!”
Ryou looks down at the floor. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t bring anything.”
“Detention!” Karita fumes. “Lunchtime!”
Ryou says nothing, just nods once.
“Am I not getting detention?” asks Malik.
Please shut up, Ryou thinks. Please, please stop making this worse.
“You will if you don’t shut up,” snaps Karita.
“It seems really arbitrary, is all,” says Malik. “Here, if I lend Bakura-kun a hair tie, does he have to do detention?”
He’s crossed the class group to stand before Ryou – he must have walked right past Karita to do that.
It’s little wonder that Malik Ishtar allied with the Spirit of the Ring. He doesn’t seem capable of fear.
“Here,” says Malik, and he holds out a thin black bobble.
“Thank you,” Ryou says quietly. He takes the elastic. Their fingertips touch for less than a moment before Ryou is hastily and messily sweeping his hair from his face, tidying it back into a ponytail. He can feel it’s lopsided but he doesn’t want any more attention.
“There,” says Malik. “Now his hair’s tied back. There’s no need for detention anymore, right?”
Karita’s silent for a whole second. He’s probably apoplectic with rage. Ryou won’t look up to check.
“I don’t know who you think you are, Malik,” Karita says, “but in this school-“
“Can we start warming up now? Only I’d actually like to get some exercise while I’m here,” says Malik.
There are more surprised, delighted gasps from the other male students. Karita shouts at the class to try to wrest control but it’s no use: Malik has managed to destroy his authority completely. They listen when told to run laps and then play basketball, but no one’s reacting to Karita with the absolute obedience he’s used to.
Once they’re released from the gym Ryou rushes to change and leaves the room as soon as the bell rings to signal the start of break. He sits in a toilet stall on the ground floor and breathes into his sleeve until he feels less like screaming.
He’s forgotten the borrowed bobble until he exits the stall and catches sight of himself in the mirror. He tugs it out, pulls his hair back into its usual mess around his face, and puts Malik’s bobble in his pocket. He should return it. Ryou hopes his awful hair hasn’t stretched the thin elastic to uselessness.
The main door opens as Ryou tries to exit the bathroom.
“Hey,” says Malik.
“I’m sorry,” says Ryou, squeezes past, and heads up the stairs to Yugi’s classroom. It’s easier to be normal when you don’t have to actively participate in the conversation.
*
That afternoon Ryou lies on his bed with Malik’s bobble in his fingers. He threads it between them, twists it around, watches the bulges it creates in his skin turn red and then fade to normal paleness once the pressure’s released.
It’s just a bobble. You can buy the exact same kind for a hundred yen at the corner shop.
Ryou stretches the bobble between his thumb and index finger, but relaxes his hand before it can ping off his hand.
You don’t even look good with your hair back.
Ryou takes a deep breath.
*
On the third day Malik’s switched to kohl around his eyes and the wingtips are accompanied by the little flicks Ryou had seen back in Egypt. His gold earrings are huge and dangle from his earlobes and they’re not his only jewellery: he has rings on both little fingers and thick gold bands up his lower arms. His jacket is tossed carelessly over the back of his chair. The sleeves of his white school shirt have been rolled up to the elbows and only two of its buttons are fastened.
Ryou needs to stop staring because Malik keeps catching him at it. It’s not as if it’s Ryou’s business, what he wears. It’s not anyone’s business and Ryou doesn’t want to be like the others, everyone staring at Malik because he’s the new foreigner who humiliated/punched/stabbed Karita (the story’s grown with every telling), but he’s… he’s so eye-catching. Ryou didn’t realise how small Malik looked in his plain uniform before seeing him like this, decorated and confident.
Ryou didn’t brush his hair this morning. He’s not sure he’s brushed his hair at all since returning to school. It’s possible he brushed his teeth yesterday.
The small elastic bobble is still in his pocket.
“I don’t think it’s a good sign,” Jonouchi had said at break, leaning his elbows on Yugi’s desk.
“Make-up doesn’t mean murderous intentions,” Anzu replied. She’d been reapplying her lip gloss.
“He was really nice yesterday,” Yugi said.
“He could have just been showing off,” Jonouchi persisted. “All… ‘look at me, I’m still powerful even though I’m not a criminal mastermind.’”
“Oh, I didn’t mean in gym,” said Yugi. “I dropped my deck in the corridor between classes but Malik-kun was passing and helped me pick up every card, even warned people from stepping on them! And him lending that hair tie to Bakura-kun so he didn’t get detention was nice.”
“How did that go?” asked Honda.
Ryou jumped at being addressed. “Oh, it… didn’t,” he said. “I turned up but there was no one there but Kaiba-san and he told me that it had been ‘taken care of.’”
“That bastard,” said Jonouchi, but that was just a kneejerk reaction to Kaiba’s name.
It’s in the midst of Ryou’s recollection that Malik Ishtar stands up. Ryou’s head turns his way, as do the heads of everyone else in the classroom.
“Malik-kun?” asks the teacher. She’s new this year. Ryou should probably have written down her name before she erased it in favour of equations.
“Mm?” says Malik. He’s got his hand on the classroom door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The teacher’s young, and doesn’t seem able to decide yet between disbelief or anger.
“Bathroom,” says Malik. “I’ll be back soon.”
Just like yesterday there’s a round of gasps and whispers and laughter from classmates. Ryou should really learn their names, too. After the fourth school transfer he’d stopped bothering, but he’s been at Domino for some time now and doesn’t intend to move before graduation. Despite this school’s numerous flaws, it is the one attended by Mutou Yugi.
“Did you ask permission?” says the teacher.
“No,” says Malik. “We’d both have noticed.”
“I don’t know what things were like in your previous school,” says the teacher – her nostrils are flaring now, “but here in Japan a student has to ask permission before leaving the classroom.”
“Oh,” says Malik. “I thought that was just for big stuff. Okay, fine. May I go to the bathroom?”
“You may not,” says the teacher.
“Okay,” says Malik. He crosses his arms. “Why, though?”
“Do you think he’s going to punch her too?” says the boy who sits behind Ryou who was in the gym yesterday and actually saw there was no physical contact but seems to want to believe those stupid rumours anyway.
Shut up before I punch you.
The teacher’s mouth is opening and closing, like an enraged fish. “Because, Malik-kun, I said so!”
Malik’s eyes catch Ryou’s. Ryou quickly drops his gaze to his desk.
There’s a huge bang as Malik punches the wall. “This fucking school!” he says, and then he’s opened the door and he’s gone. The boy behind Ryou whoops.
The teacher marches to the door and opens it. “Malik-kun!” she calls. “Malik-kun, get back here now! Malik Ishtar!”
“That’s the end of that,” says the boy who sits behind Ryou smugly.
“Shut up,” says Ryou, but no one hears.
*
At the end of the day Ryou tries to escape quietly but he’s caught by Yugi before he can. “Bakura-kun!” says Yugi. His eyes are wide and he looks terribly worried. “What happened? We heard your teacher shouting after Malik-kun!”
“He… he, um,” says Ryou.
How in the world to explain it when even he doesn’t understand Malik’s motivations?
“Yugi!” called Jonouchi. He appears behind Ryou and ushers the three of them against the wall, away from the flow of students heading to clubrooms or out the school. “Did you hear? Malik Ishtar stormed out!”
“We heard!” says Yugi.
“What happened?” says Honda. Anzu’s behind him. Otogi’s joined too. Ryou and Yugi are in the centre, squished against the wall.
“He said he needed to go to the bathroom, right,” says Jonouchi, “but when the teacher said no he completely lost it and left!”
“Just cos the teacher said no?” says Honda.
“She was rude about it,” says Otogi. “She pretty much called Malik a stupid foreigner.”
“She what?” says Anzu. “What’s her name? That’s out of line!”
“All because he needed to go to the bathroom?” says Yugi.
“It’s more than that,” Ryou says quietly.
He didn’t expect anyone to hear, but then Yugi touches Ryou’s arm and says, eyes still huge with concern, “Do you know more about it, Bakura-kun?”
“Um,” Ryou says, suddenly panicking. “Well, it’s only, only… it can’t be easy for him, can it? With how he was raised.”
It’s not as if he even knows Malik’s story from the source. The barest details were given to him by Yugi. Ryou hadn’t wanted to know more than that – it had felt too intrusive.
Yugi nods slowly. “This is Malik-kun’s first time in a normal school…”
“And honestly, Domino High is not that great,” says Honda.
“Yeah, that’s how why got in,” Jonouchi says earnestly.
“Do you think we should go and visit him?” says Anzu.
“Would he even want to see us?” says Jonouchi.
“What if we got together on Sunday?” says Yugi. “We could show Malik-kun around.”
Locations, meal plans, and other miscellany are discussed. Ryou nods every now and then, but when the gang decide to move their conversation to a nearby café Ryou politely declines the invitation and walks home alone.
It’s not like he and Malik are friends, after all.
*
The fourth day and Malik Ishtar doesn’t turn up for school at all.
The guy who sits behind Ryou – the obnoxious, rude, ignorant, jerkass who sits behind Ryou – keeps talking about it as if he knows, as if he understands. “Pretty sure he’s some gang leader,” he says during break to the classroom at large. “No wonder he hated school, right?”
Ryou kicks his own chair viciously back under his desk. He doesn’t storm out of the room because he doesn’t have the body type for storming, but he certainly walks briskly. He’s not going anywhere. He should go next door. Doubtless they’re still discussing well-meaning plans to gently integrate Malik into the group and encourage him to return to school, starting with a cinema trip on Sunday.
Maybe Ryou can pretend he’s ill.
He’s going downstairs, Ryou realises. Well, he has some change in his pocket. Maybe he can buy some food. He forgot to make lunch this morning. Did he have lunch yesterday? That would probably explain this headache.
He’s in the main foyer when he spots her: long dark hair with gold decorations, a demure cream dress, looking harried and stressed.
“Ishtar-san?” Ryou says before he can stop himself.
“Ah, hello, Bakura-san,” says Isis. “Could you perhaps show me the way to the teachers’ lounge? I’m here to request some work for Malik but it seems I timed it poorly. I wasn’t expecting it to be so busy.” She looks at the students milling around with an expression somewhere between trepidation and distaste.
“Will your brother be returning?” Ryou asks.
Isis sighs. “I can’t say at the moment,” she replies wearily. “Malik’s in one of his… moods. I hope that soon…” She trails off. “I’m sorry, Bakura-san, I shouldn’t be burdening you with this.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” says Ryou. “Your brother and I are in the same class. Would it help if I shared my notes?”
Isis’ eyes light up. Her relief makes her look a lot younger – less like an adult and more like a young woman, thankful for every momentary reprieve from her too-many responsibilities. “Would you? Bakura-san that is… such a generous offer, thank you so much. If you could visit tomorrow with your work, we would be so grateful. Rishid and I will help, of course, and we’ll provide dinner.”
“Oh,” says Ryou.
“Rishid or I will pick you up after school tomorrow, if that’s agreeable,” says Isis.
“Um,” says Ryou.
Briefly, she clasps his shoulder. “Thank you, Bakura-san,” she says. “Rishid will bring the car here for you tomorrow. Again,” and her eyes shine with gratitude, “thank you so very much.”
Ryou says, “Um,” but then Isis is gone, and the bell rings, and the only reason Ryou doesn’t stay rooted to the spot is because he’s pushed by the crowd heading back to their classrooms. He follows the flow, back to his seat, and stares at Malik’s empty desk. His school jacket is still hanging over the back of his abandoned chair.
“Um,” says Ryou.
*
Ryou paces his apartment that night, doorway to main room to kitchen to bedroom, and even when he tries not to he keeps saying, “Um.”
What’s even the big deal? he says to himself. Just don’t go. Skip school tomorrow. It’s not like they know where you live.
He left his jacket, Ryou says.
Big fucking deal. It’s not your job to be such a goody two-shoes, host.
Ryou sits down. He’s on the floor. He could stand and walk to the sofa and collapse on that, but the floor is right here. Slowly he lies down on it.
Pathetic.
I want to be his friend, says Ryou.
Why the fuck would he want to be yours after knowing me first?
The Spirit is gone, dead for good this time. He’s never returning.
His voice remains an echo in Ryou’s head.
Ryou curls up and covers his face with his hands. “I hate you,” he lies.
*
Ryou does go to school the next day – of course he does. He has an attendance record to keep. Malik’s discarded jacket is beginning to creep him out. He tries not to look at it.
“Bakura-kun,” Yugi says at break – he’s come to Ryou’s classroom and is sitting at Ryou’s desk. He’s got cards (normal cards, not Duel Monsters), and they’re playing Snap. It’s a low-skill game that Ryou’s oddly fond of.
“You can always talk to me, you know?” says Yugi.
Ryou smiles. Yugi is so warm.
“I know,” says Ryou.
“Snap,” says Yugi.
He takes the pile of cards. Ryou’s losing. He’s not really paying attention. Malik’s jacket is haunting the corner of his eye.
“Do you want to go somewhere after school?” Yugi asks. “Grandpa’s got some new stuff at the shop he wants me to test! There’s a new board game where you’re trapped in a haunted house…”
“I would like that,” Ryou says, “but not… not tonight. I’m busy.”
“Oh,” says Yugi. He smiles and it’s nearly genuine. “Some other time, okay?”
Ryou nods.
“Snap,” he says.
*
The Ishtars’ car is not what Ryou was expecting – although why was he expecting a motorbike? Vague memories of laying over the back of one aside, it’s still not the best vehicle for transporting a second person.
The car Rishid leans against is so… normal. It’s not even an American make, just a regular, Japanese car in silver. (Jonouchi once told Ryou, with great conviction, that the only people who own American cars are yakuza and dentists. Ryou didn’t ask if that’s true even in America).
Rishid is getting some odd looks from the passing Domino High students but he’s ignoring it all, looking over their heads (an easy thing for him to do – he’s a giant) with a searching expression. When he spots Ryou, and sees Ryou has spotted him, he nods once.
“Bakura-kun,” he says when Ryou approaches. His voice is so deep. “Good afternoon.”
“Hello,” Ryou says. He proffers Malik’s jacket to Rishid – Malik’s uncle? Cousin? “Ishtar-san left this the other day,” he says in a rush.
“Ah,” says Rishid. He takes the jacket gently and seems to be checking it over. “Thank you.” He gives Ryou a tiny smile. It’s small, but lifts the intimidation right off his scarred face.
Rishid opens the door for Ryou and it would be rude to take a backseat after that, so Ryou ends up sitting in the front, beside Rishid. He doesn’t speak as Rishid starts the car. The radio comes on, tuned to some gentle jazz.
“Malik was here earlier,” says Rishid. “Turn it off if you want.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” says Ryou.
Rishid doesn’t try to engage in conversation for the rest of the ride. Ryou wonders if he should, tries to come up with a suitable ice breaker, but all the things he can come up with are horribly inappropriate. ‘So, those scars – how did you get those?’ ‘Malik’s dark personality came out when you were knocked unconscious – you two must be close then?’ ‘I heard you lived underground for most of your life. What do you think of the weather?’
It’s not a long car ride. Honestly, Ryou could have walked it, and not only because of the lack of distance: he recognises most of the route they take as the one he has to walk anyway to get home. Rishid takes a right at the corner shop instead of going straight on, as Ryou would, but even then it still wouldn’t be much effort.
“Here,” says Rishid, and pulls into the driveway of a pretty boring-looking house. Two stories, front garden, garage. The lawn is green and trimmed and the flowerbeds are neat and clearly cared for. It’s one of the most magazine-normal houses Ryou has ever seen.
The front door opens before Rishid has even turned the car off. Isis is there, smiling in welcome, and her smile only grows when she spots Ryou. It grows so wide it starts to look strained.
“It’s so good to see you,” she says.
Ryou bows. “Thank you for having me,” he says.
He takes his shoes off in the entryway and Isis points him to a pair of house slippers. They weren’t bought specifically for him, were they? That shows a level of hospitality Ryou can’t possibly meet. He didn’t even bring a gift – didn’t have the courage to go out yesterday, didn’t have the time this morning.
(He really hopes the slippers weren’t bought for him. They’re too small).
“This way,” says Isis, and leads Ryou into a kitchen-dining room. It’s modest, but nice: walnut-coloured wood on the cabinets, saucepans hanging neatly from a yellow rack, jars of herbs and spices displayed on the wall. The dining table is tall, Western-style, with four chairs. It’s covered in book, papers, and stationary.
Malik’s seated in one of the chairs, though ‘seated’ doesn’t adequately convey his clear dedication to his slouch. He’s sitting so far down in his chair that, if he put the effort in, he could probably lean his chin on the table. In front of him is an open A4 lined notebook and a pen. The paper is empty.
“Malik, Bakura-san is here,” Isis says in Japanese.
Malik replies – in Arabic, perhaps. Whatever it is Ryou doesn’t understand.
“Malik,” Isis says.
Malik replies in that same language. Then he looks at Ryou, once, before rolling his eyes. A twinge of phantom pain spreads along Ryou’s left arm from his scar.
“Let’s get this over with,” says Malik.
It’s… one of the worst, most awkward experiences of Ryou’s life. He tries, does his best to engage Malik, to clearly explain the topics covered in school during his two-day absence; Rishid sits at the table with them and Isis hovers around. It really shouldn’t be so bad but Malik so clearly doesn’t want to be there, doesn’t want Ryou there, and Isis’ attempts to persuade Malik to faux politeness are so earnest it’s grating. She’s desperate, her smile far from her eyes, and she keeps looking at Ryou with a plea lurking in her expression but what can he do? Malik doesn’t want him here. He takes the worksheets Ryou collected but doesn’t do more than languidly scribble an answer if pressed by his sister. All the while Rishid is silent, and Isis tries to enlist Ryou’s help in filling the silence, and it’s horrible horrible horrible.
Ryou lasts until the clock above the dining table reads six. He caps his pen, smiles, and says, “Oh, my, is that the time? I apologise but I must be going.”
“Already?” says Isis. “We promised you dinner…”
“Yes, I am so sorry for my rudeness,” says Ryou, “but I’d quite forgotten earlier that my father is going to call me tonight, so I really must go.”
“Thank fuck,” says Malik in perfect Japanese.
“If it’s your father I suppose it can’t be helped,” says Isis. “Please, at least allow us to take you home?”
“No, that’s quite all right,” says Ryou. His hands are shaking as he packs away his things. “It’s not a long walk.”
“Are you sure?” asks Isis.
She keeps asking even as she shows Ryou to the door, as Ryou swaps the too-tight house slippers for his smart black school shoes. It’s only when Ryou’s standing on the doorstep that she sighs and drops her cheerful façade.
“I’m sorry about this,” Isis murmurs. “Malik is finding the transition…”
“I understand,” says Ryou. “Thank you for your hospitality. Goodnight, Ishtar-san.”
She smiles sadly. “Goodnight, Bakura-san. Please look after yourself.”
“I’ll do my best!” Ryou says brightly.
He walks home briskly, and when he gets there Ryou realises that he is hungry this dinnertime. He pulls a bag of rice from the cupboard, and a bowl from another, and when he pours the rice into the bowl he tips the bag too far and too much pours out.
Ryou stares at the bowl.
He tips out the last of the rice, until the bag is empty and the bowl is almost too full for the cold water Ryou pours into it. Cleaning the rice takes a long time because the water to rice ratio is completely wrong, but time is what Ryou has and the repetitive action is soothing. The cold of the water seeps into his hands, up to his wrists, makes his fingers numb. Ryou puts his hands to his face and it’s wonderful.
By the time the water runs clear the day’s grown so dark Ryou almost can’t see it. He leaves the sink only to turn the light on until the rice is clean enough to go into the cooker.
His mother used to boil the rice in the water used for carrots, Ryou remembers. It turned the rice orange. Why does he never remember that before it’s too late to do the same?
Of course, rice isn’t a dinner on its own. He opens his fridge and takes stock of what’s inside. There’s eggs, bell peppers, radishes, green beans, cucumber, tomatoes, salmon, prawns – Ryou always over-shops.
He takes out everything.
He mixes a teriyaki sauce for the salmon. The prawns are coated in breadcrumbs to be deep-fried. Eggs are mixed and cooked into tamagoyaki. Any vegetables he can’t immediately work out how he wants to prepare become salad. Some of the rice he shapes into onigiri.
By the time Ryou’s done he’s got enough food spread around his kitchen to feed a large family for a week, even after eating his fill for dinner. He pulls his neglected lunchbox from a cupboard and crams as much of the food into it as will fit. Leftovers go into plastic containers, and then everything is put into the fridge.
“Thank fuck,” says Malik Ishtar in perfect Japanese.
Ryou goes to the bathroom next. He brushes his teeth until his gums bleed. He strips off his uniform and, naked, throws it into the washing machine. When he washes himself he scrubs so hard his skin reddens, and runs the water of the bath much hotter than he usually would.
By the time Ryou’s done the bathroom is thick with condensation. He climbs from the bath carefully on his tired, wobbly legs, reaching for one of the clean white towels he prepared. He uses it to scoop his hair atop his head in a loose, messy turban, and wipes his mirror clean. His watery reflection greets him.
Big, sad doe-eyes. Thin, feminine face. Bones protruding beneath his pale paper skin. The concave of his stomach beneath his ribs. Jutting hipbones. A mess of white pubic hair on a smooth groin. Small breasts growing noticeable.
He’s going to have to get something to flatten those soon. Perhaps a tight sports bra?
”Thank fuck,” says Malik Ishtar in perfect Japanese when Ryou announces that he should leave.
Ryou closes his eyes defiantly against his talkative thoughts.
“Tomorrow will be better,” he says aloud.
By the time Ryou goes to bed he might as well be rising for school – but he dons his pyjamas and goes to bed anyway, and tomorrow will be better.
*
He sleeps late and forgets his lunch. His pen runs out of ink and he doesn’t have a spare. He gets pushed out of the cafeteria queue and by the time he reaches the front nothing substantial is left, so even though Ryou planned on real food all he gets is a doriyaki. It’s not even chocolate.
After school Malik Ishtar tries to kill him.
Tomorrow is not better.