Naming the Flame

Naming the Flame

Trei

Chapter Three

While Malik put the very
crème de la crème of his persuasive talents to work on making Ryou cross the
walkway between Eien and An’ya (in his mind: the barrier between dancing and
making out), two subjects of the careful reforming of one Yugi Motou were
swiftly reverting back to their former, more devious selves. Against the ankle
of An’ya leaned one of these boys, a strikingly handsome teen studiously keeping
his presence locked in the shade An’ya’s hefty bulk offered.

Several passersby -
mostly female - pointed and whispered breathlessly. But they didn’t dare
approach the mastermind of Dungeon Dice Monsters while he looked ready to
detonate the core of the Earth. Some things autographs just aren’t worth.

By no stretch of the
inatination was Ryuuji all that frightening to begin with, but with the “I will
eat your heart” (1) look he had stubbornly plastered across his rather elegant
features, it was enough to ward away his skittish cheerleaders. And in truth,
though he wasn’t paying much attention to the hesitant glimpses cast in his
direction, Ryuuji wouldn’t have minded all that horribly that he was keeping
his fans away. On the contrary, he preferred not to see any of his dice
cult tonight.re wre was only one person he had any desire to see presently and
that individual was avoiding him.

And not without reason,
either, the sixteen-year-old reflected with forced diplomacy. While absently
trailing ginger fingertips along his golden armband, he admitted inwardly (the
only place he ever admitted anything) that his behavior tonight had been
a little selfish. But he had more to concern himself with than a teenage
romance…that wouldn’t last for much longer anyway. His career was more
important than some fleeting crush. Em…right. Fleeting crush. That was exactly
what it was…. Oh, look! Ryuuji has a dice earring!

A flash of brilliant
light that Ryuuji instantly knew hadn’t come from the lit fountains distracted
the dice player’s concentrated attention from his drawn-out internal musings.
Tilting his chin sligh Ryu Ryuuji sought out the diversion with vague
annoyance. He never enjoyed being part of a fight he knew from the start he
would lose. And emotions, damn the lot of them, were bound to defeat him once
again.

To Ryuuji’s
disappointment, the flash he’d seen was a spotlight of gold Eie Eien mirroring
off of the china-white and feather-soft hair of one Ryou Bakura. Uninterested,
Ryuuji sulkily looked away. Halved seconds later though, Ryuuji started and
shot his sparkling emerald gaze at the crimson-tinted walkway between An’ya and
Eien. Quite promptly, Ryuuji’s jaw dislocated and dropped Ryo Ryou, though, wasn’t the
main attraction (though he was cute, Ryuuji mused with a grin). The real
source of interest was the one kissing him. Malik Ishtar. Dear dice they
were dating?! Or at least, one had to assume, given that Ryou wasn’t
fighting the casual embrace. At all. In the slightest. In any way. …Squeak?

“Interesting turn of events.
The master of dice has become the master of mice. A vast improvement, if you
ask me.”

Ryuuji, still on edge
from catching the holder of the Ring and Time Magazine’s Schitzo of the Year
playing an avid round of tonsil hockey (2), spun around to find yet another
unexpected - and wholly disliked - surprise. Seto Kaiba. Oh goodie.

“No one did ask
you,” Ryuuji snapped acerbically.

The other boy smirked
vaguely in the annoying manner that hinted had he been twelve years younger
he’d be skipping around Ryuuji shrieking, “I KNOW SOMETHING YOU DON’T KNOW!”

Ryuuji didn’t like Kaiba.
At all. In the slightest. In any way. …Blech.

To see Kaiba detached
from his own shadow, so to speak, was uncommon. To see him in public without
weapons of mass destruction was eerie. To see him without his laptop in sight
was cause for large streams of panicked civilians to rush from Domino in hordes
to the nearest bomb shelter ‘cause Armageddon’s a-comin’!

Ahem.

“Don’t you have some low
self-esteem cases to macerate?” Ryuuji inquired coolly.

Kaiba’s smirk sharpened
hostilely. “Not enough of a challenge. Why do you think I avoid contact with
you?”

“Remind me what’s
stopping me from killing you,” grated out Ryuuji.

“Several things. Not the
least of which is your astounding fear of tousling your…distinctive hair.”

“Better to be distinctive
than mainstream in a society you pretend to fight against, hypocrite.”

Chords struck: one.
Score: Kaiba: 3; Ryuuji: 3.

“Better to be a
revolutionary against the more idiotic details of conformity than to be a sheep
to the reincarnation of a malnourished runt of a tyrant.”

Ryuuji winced. Foul shot
for team Ryuuji. Two shots.

“I wouldn’t bring up
dependency, Kaiba. How many guys your age you know keep a necklace with his
little brother’s picture in it? Most guys wouldn’t even wear a necklace like
that unless he had a picture of his girlfriend to keep in it. But you don’t
have a koi, do you, Kaiba? Now why is that? Oh, that’s right. You frighten
girls.”

Kaiba’s jaw had visibly
tightened, the fists by his side no longer comfortably resting but strained and
white.

Score: Ryuuji: 5; Kai -

SLAM.

Game called off due to
spinning world.

**

Ryou only consented to
crossing the walkway after Malik promised to shield his eyes the whole
petrifying expedition over. Even then, the Egyptian couldn’t shield the images
of both plunging to their deaths from Ryou’s mind. Thus, he was vastly confused
when Ryou abruptly yelped and tore across the remaining stretch of walkway like
a cheetah on speed.

Bewildered, Malik jogged
after him, stopping at the darkened staircase leading downward into An’ya’s
belly. He smiled and leaned on the topmost banister, watching his adorable koi
shake a few stair lengths down, so near to whimpering that Malik had to laugh.
“Even if the bridge was rickety, which it isn’t, it wouldn’t have fallen
under your weight, kichou (3). I don’t think you in your heavyweight glory of
one hundred fourteen pounds would have done much to impair the structure of the
bridge.”

Ryou’s ingenious retort
of “venomous scowl” promptly silenced the Egyptian.

“I don’t like being high
up,” the younger boy said after a glaring moment (literally). “I don’t trust
heights.”

Malik noted the delicate
implication and asked uncomfortably, “I’ve never, um, given you the impression
that I’d try to throw you off a cliff or anything, have I? Lately? Ever?”

Ryou froze, studying
Malik tensely. “Of course not.” He raised his hand to block a passing ray of
neon azure and asked suspiciously, “Is this your way of breaking up? Or just
breaking?”

Malik laughed and laced
an arm around Ryou’s waist, kissing his koibito’s nose. “If it was anybody
else, it would be foreshadowing. But for you…hm. I might just slip arsenic in
your cream puffs.”

“Aww, a sweet death,”
deadpanned the younger. He poked Malik in the chest teasingly, leaning his
weight backwards onto Malik’s bracing wrists with an unconscious trust. “Don’t
you touch my cream puffs.”

Had the banter continued,
Malik would have conjured a way to subtly escort his preoccupied kojika to the
lanais, but Mother Seduction was tired of seeing the insatiable couple
successfully receiving more than their fair share of each other that night.
Thus, moments before the idea of suffocating Ryou’s better judgment with
another lip locking duel surfaced the entry hall of An’ya echoed with a
familiarly unwelcome voice.

“Bakura?”

Malik cursed vehemently
as Ryou split from his arms and staggered half-gracelessly into the lit
walkway. “Jounouchi-kun!” he greeted amicably, smiling serenely. “What are you
doing here?”

Malik was floored.

Jounouchi was apparently
only just passing the access of the walkway, pausing at a temporary rest. He
didn’t see Malik in the shadows - he would have arched his back, hissed and ran
into a corner to growl and sharpen his claws if he had. Smiling exasperatedly,
the blond duelist replied, “On my way to divorce Kaiba’s fist from Ryu -
Otogi’s face.”

Apparently Malik was second
in line to catch the slip. The scented candle he had relocated to his back
pocket jolted from its snug tavern and pummeled the floor with a raucous
vengeance. …Whoever gave An’ya hollow metal floors would have a stick of
vanilla sticking from both ears before this night was over.

“What was that?” asked
Jounouchierinering over Ryou’s shoulder suspiciously.

“I don’t know,” answered
Ryou with a naïve tone. Malik smiled with a fierce kind of pride. Ryou
shouldn’t have been able to lie so easily, but then - that was the advantage.
No one would ever believe Ryou had the capacity to lie. “Let’s get out of here.
Kaiba could take down a lion if he wanted.”

Malik gawped indignantly.
Ditched! For another blond!

“Hai,” Jounouchi answered
with a suspicious glance at the shadows. Malik melted deeper into the darkness.

In a quiet voice, quieter
than could have been heard over the music if Malik hadn’t been so close, Ryou
said, “What happened between you and Otogi-kun?”

Jounouchi sighed, looked
around for standbys listening in and murmured back, “He doesn’t want anybody to
know. He made sense…he doesn’t want us getting any shit about it at school -
plus there’s his career in the way. But I couldn’t just give up, you
know?”

Ryou arched an eyebrow
and Malik snickered silently. That gesture was a neon sign of danger. “What did
you do?” the diamond-haired teen asked.

“I, em, started crying
and ran out on him. I uh, kinda lost him somewhere along the way though.”

Ryou stared
incredulously, unknowingly accompanied in that action by his shadowed koibito.
“You started crying?!”

Jounouchi shuffled his
feet uncomfortably. “I didn’t exactly…uh. Well, I…. I faked it.”

The other teen was silent
for a moment and Malik wondered if his tenshi was about to unleash a sigh of
disappointment. Instead, though, Ryou said with a slow smile, “That was wrong
of you, Jounouchi-kun.”

Malik’s eyes widened. He
better not be picking up tips, he thought. Ryou glanced over his shoulder
and winked at Malik. Oh, shit. The Egyptian resisted the urge to sneeze
- just to see how Ryou would wriggle his way out of that.

But he missed his chance,
unfortunately, and Ryou led Jounouchi out of sight by the wrist, commenting,
“Otogi-kun’s going to kill you when he hears this.”

As soon as their voices
and footfalls were torn to ambiguity by the thrumming music, Malik materialized
into the gaping swallows of light, leaning over to retrieve the troublesome
candle. After straightening, the Egyptian regarded the scented cane skeptically.
Then he muttered an ancient Egyptian curse he’d learned from his sister, Isis,
and chucked the candle down the dark stairwell, stalking off to enjoy the
brawl.

**

Kaiba hovered over the
ebony-haired dice player dispassionately. While Ryuuji struggled to ward away
the pain in his jaw by massaging the tender area with his hand, the CEO said
with an enlightening tone, “That was a fist that hit you.”

“I couldn’t tell,” hissed
Ryuuji, glaring poisonously at the taller boy. Then, with a small grunt, he
climbed to his feet. Though he swayed slightly, Ryuuji reminded himself that he
backed down to no one. His koi when he was mad, maybe, but not Kaiba. Or
his math teacher…but not Kaiba. Or…well, let’s just say Ryuuji didn’t back down
to Kaiba.

“You may say anything you
like to me,” said Kaiba coolly, making it a point to look down at his
rival, “provided that you have the spine to back it up. But if you ever take a
jibe at my brother again, the only comments you’ll be making will be served
directly to your maker, whatever you imagine that to be.”

Still nursing his jaw
with a gentle hand, Ryuuji snapped painfully, “I’ll say whatever I wish to you,
Kaiba, provided you have the spine to handle it.”

The CEO smirked in either
amusement or warning, glancing sideways to acknowledge the crowd gathering. “I
can manage anything you throw at me, onna-tarashi (4).”

“Then manage this,”
Ryuuji snarled, launching a fist at Kaiba’s face.

“KAIBA! RYUUJI! STOP!”

Ryuuji’s fist paused, but
Kaiba didn’t. As soon as the shorter boy was properly distracted, Kaiba hooked
a kick round the back of Ryuuji’s knees and sent the raven-haireen ten to his
knees with a stunned yelp.

Jounouchi, followed
closely by Ryou, cut through the crowd and immediately dropped beside Ryuuji.
Ryou hung back slightly, tensing at the sight before him. Under the weight of
Kaiba’s glare, however, the younger boy was prompted to shift closer to
Jounouchi and Ryuuji.

The blond murmmurmuring
to Ryuuji, his arm draped protectively around the younger teen’s back. What he said
was too quiet to be heard by any spectator present, but the comforted nod
Ryuuji offered was evidence enough that Jounouchi’s words had been mostly
reassurance.

Kaiba relaxed into a
nonchalant stance, lazily crossing his arms over his chest. “Strange couple,”
he commented. “A dog and a mouse? However do you manage foreplay?”

The swarm of teenagers
surrounding them chortled and “Oooh”ed mockingly. Ryuuji, a panicked look on
his face, lifted his head and unconsciously reddened furiously. “What are you
blathering on about, Kaiba?” he snapped weakly.

Jounouchi’s arm tightened
imperceptibly around the younger teen.

Kaiba watched the
interaction between the two teens with openly displayed interest, smirking
reflexively. “So, puppy, you found a toy. Or perhaps…it’s the other way
around?”

Ryuuji dismissed
embarrassment and launched at the other boy, successfully tackling Kaiba to the
ground. From all curves of the besieged area, chanting arose from the silence.
“Fight! FIGHT! FIGHT!”

But before the din and
skirmish could advance beyond moderately harmful, a familiarly Egyptian-tinged
accent rang out through the pandemonium, “RYOU!” The screaming and chanting
died down and all eyes turned to the fallen form of Ryou Bakura, Ring
lifelessly clutched in his hand.

**

Yamis were curious
things. Their name, “yami” was Japanese, a language belonging to a countheythey
had not even known existed. An island continent, they heard. Oi, an island. A
miserable patch of land surrounded by voracious, life-sucking water. But this was
no bountiful Nile River. Ohhh no. This was an ocean! Eugh. Damned
Pharaoh. Sure, he built pyramids, ruled over Egypt and made monuments that had
yet to be destroyed - so? Yami no Bakura could have done that easily. Why
couldn’t he have drained the ocean? How difficult could it have been?

And as the Pharaoh would
someday have the challenge of yanking the plug from the Pacific Bathtub, Yami
no Bakura currently had a predicament of his own on his metaphysical hands. At
one time, Malik Ishtar had owned a Sennen Item himself - the Sennen Rod. But
following Battle City, both the Rod and the spirit within were lost to him
forever. Or…em…so it had been assumed. The spirit of the Sennen Rod was
presently restored to str streets of Domino. And it was all thanks to Yami no
Bakura. Now…how was he supposed to weasel out of this?

Well, since no one can
really follow the logic of a madman without then tumbling into the same disease
of lunacy himself, the narration will detail his movement and expression rather
than the pattern of his psyche.

Currently, said spirit
was prowling the darkened edges of his soul room, absently curling adroit
fingers around the artifact lying tranquilly against his chest. His face
reflected his thoughts - dark and labyrinthine.

Finally, after several
minutes of this restless pacing, the darkness residing in Ryou Bakura’s mind
ripped the Sennen Ring from his neck. In the next moment, the artifact’s
glowing encompassed the room like a Biblical flood. And when the blinding light
faded back to its golden origin, the spirit was gazing absently at a patch of
the floor where his younger counterpart sat, blinking in mystified awe. But not
fear.

Neither spoke for an
alarmingly stretched span of time, spirit and child sizing each other’s next
actions and thoughts. This meeting was the first either would have face to face
without the sword of Damocles (5) hovering over their necks. At length, the
spirit crouched before the younger boy, impassive as Ryou’s hand slowly rose to
clutch his own Ring protectively. The real Ring.

“You prefefe tfe to
death,” the former tomb robber stated, studying Ryou’s eyes.

The boy once again
expressed confusion by shuttering the lids of his eyes, seemingly not noticing
exactly how effeminate the gesture illustrated him to be. The spirit took this
bewilderment rather well considering the sporadic duration of his explosive
temper and climbed to his feet fluidly.

Abruptly, Ryou, still
seated on the floor, asked, “Em…why - uh - why do you ask?” in a curious, yet
wary, tone.

The spirit smiled. Or
rather, the corners of his mouth lifted into what could have been a
smile - if they hadn’t stretched to his cheekbones and revealed an enviable set
of fang-like teeth. “It wasn’t a question,” he said with a dark chuckle. “It
was an observation. Most mortals of this age fear death.” A dagger pinched the
hollow of Ryou’s neck. “Do you?”

Ryou slowly allowed his
eyes to span the shimmer of the blade. “Yes,” he said quietly.

Seemingly satisfied and
smiling in the same disturbed manner, the spirit brought the dagger back to a
concealed sheath underneath a rather Egyptian-looking garb. Unexpectedly, he
said to Ryou, “Death is not to be feared. It is what makes death a blessing
that should be feared.”

Ryou edged back
anxiously. “What do you mean?” he asked.

The spirit reached out
and elegantly brushed a few wisps of silver from Ryou’s eyes. Frowning with
concentration, the Egyptian said, “You should consider cutting your hair. The
August heat will make it unbearable to tame.”

Ryou stared dumbly. Death
to suffering to hair care. Baka (6) father giving him a baka Ring with a
barking lunatic inside….

“Barking?” asked the
spirit curiously, withdrawing his hands from Ryou’s hair. His eyes narrowed.
“Are you calling me an inu (7)?”

The boy shook his head
vividly. “N-no. It’s just an expression…. It means - ”

“The spirit of the Sennen
Rod has been released from the Shadow Realm. And he is in mortal form.”

Taken aback by the
spasmodic conversation and the lurches it took in terms of topics, Ryou
stammered out, “He - he’s free?! And human?! How!?”

The spirit tilted his
head and the eerily demented smile returned in full flourish. “Consider what I
suggested regarding your hair. The temperature will rise dramatically soon
enough.” Then, leaning his mouth close to Ryou’s ear, the spirit whispered,
“And not simply owing to the season.”

Ryou was further
mystified by the dark spirit’s cryptic words, but failed to carry on
questioning as the dark version of his own Ring around the spirit’s neck began
to whistle and beam with intense light. And then the soul room was dark and the
spirit was alone, studying his nails. “Anuksa (7),” he spat. “A hangnail.”

To be Continued…

1 - *Snicker* For fans of
Little Nicky

2 - Try-outs this Friday,
boys. Bring your friends. ;)

3 - Kichou
(precious…sssss)

4 - Onna-tarashi
(playboy)

5 - Sword of Damocles -
analogy meaning imminent danger

6 - Baka (idiot)

7 - Inu (dog)

8 - Anuksa (shit) - it’s
meant to be ancient Egyptian, but since there’s no “Profanity Guide” on
Egyptian slang, I had to be creative. :) Gomen!