Teratos High: Demon Hunters

A/N: Welcome to chapter 4 of the revised Teratos High! Thanks again to our lovely reviewers for your kind words. ZB and I truly appreciate them all! This particular chapter gave ZB and I both fits in the writing and revising, but we're hoping you like the result all the same. If you're already familiar with the story you'll notice some fairly extreme changes as you read, but please trust us on them. We have plans in motion. *evil grin*

And now... On with the story!

~~~~

The alarm went off at six am. It was a rather futile attempt to wake the orphan up however, since Yami just hit the snooze button until it read seven. He and mornings did not get along well.

“Yami! If you hit that snooze button one more time, I’ll personally make sure to nail the clock to your forehead!” Cobalt shouted from the hallway. Yami couldn't resist a sleepy snicker at the mental image. He'd give Cobalt points for creativity if nothing else...

The sky was just beginning to lighten, about fifteen minutes later, when Yami finally conceded and decided to roll out of bed. As the orphan sat up and stretched the previous night had all but been forgotten in favor of getting his mind working enough to blearily look around the room; and try to remember where he'd put all his stuff. He was too groggy to even notice that the bruises and broken knuckles had been somehow healed during the night leaving only a thin line of jagged scars running across one hand. Instead he lurched to his feet, and after a toe stubbing encounter with his, still unused, chest of drawers, managed to wake himself up enough to grab his backpack and get dressed. Glancing at the clock he swore softly and hastily dumped the rest of his unpacked clothes on the mattress, and proceeded to stuff his paper and pens into the various pockets of the much abused backpack.

“Are you ready?” Cobalt demanded, hammering on Yami’s oak door again. The orphan rolled his eyes.

There was nothing quite like meeting the day to smiling faces.

When Cobalt didn’t receive an answer, he exploded, “IF YOU AREN’T OUT IN FIVE MINUTES I’M COMING IN!” Cobalt roared. Yami was mildly impressed when dust filaments fell from the ceiling. That took effort.

Yami didn’t take the shout personally. His foster father probably wasn’t much of a morning person. He'd dealt with people like that before. That was why he decided against dawdling by the door for another fifteen minutes. A wise choice on Yami’s behalf, because Cobalt seemed ready to break the fancy wood in with a battering ram.

“Yeah yeah,” Yami opened the door, “Keep your wig on.” He muttered and shot a quick glance at Cobalt’s bald head, “Or not...”

He hung around for a second to see Cobalt’s expression; then decided to brave the dreaded stairs instead of go toe to toe with a very angry, very bald Cobalt. When he saw his foster father’s face change to the color which matched his name, all the signs screamed ‘run away'. He did so with a snicker.

Upon reaching the large, chrome plated kitchen - complete with chrome floors, ceilings, counters and appliances (Yami privately hoped he wouldn't have to cook in here during the summer), Yami watched Marilyn run around like she had accidentally set her stockings on fire. He would've been amused by the sight if the whole routine of 'fussing mother' hadn't set his teeth on edge. Really, who did she think she was fooling?

"Do you have enough paper and pens?" She asked anxiously.

"Yes." Yami sighed for what had to be the fifth time. This was getting tiring. So he did what he always had when faced with such things... he blocked her out. He was used to the typical foster mother's 'concern'. He knew the 'feelings' would eventually die out. They always did. Just like everything else in life. 'Love', 'Happiness', and even 'Lust' never lasted forever.

She glanced first at her wrist watch than at Yami's tired face. By this time the orphan could tell she was genuinely concerned... about something. But what it was about, Yami wasn't sure. After all, he was just going to school.

What could happen?

"What?" Yami demanded in exasperation; half expecting her to start lecturing him about the do's and dont's when talking to strangers. This was getting ridiculous. What he wasn't expecting however, was the tirade that issued forth from her mouth next.

"Are you okay? You look a bit tired. Is this about yesterday? If it is, you know you can talk to us about it-"

Yami had almost completely forgotten about the incident from yesterday, so it shocked him that Marilyn recalled the incident so vividly, "N-No thanks." He stuttered in surprise. He'd meant to sound firm and cold, but his surprise and the memories had melted his voice into a faint squeak.

"Cobalt and I were so worried-..."

'Oh yes, I'm so sure you were worried...' He thought grimly and repressed a growl '...about your unhappy fans... What would they say if they found out about your 'precious' foster son's illegal activities?' His knuckles gave a throb at the thought, but he ignored it in favor eyeing his foster mother curiously.

She sort of... looked sincere...

He wasn't sure what to make of that. Why would they act like they cared so much? He was just a publicity stunt to make them look better to the public at best. Something to be waved in front of the cameras for a few months and then shoved out the door with a little money in his pocket when he turned eighteen. It wasn't like he actually mattered to them.

Right?

Shaking off his thoughts he walked with her out to the front door and were shortly joined by Cobalt - who was thankfully in a better mood.

Without anything better to do Yami trained his red eyes on the tacky pink flamingo sticking up from their neighbor's front lawn. It looked like something out of a demented cartoon, and he was half afraid it might come to life and brandish a rocket launcher. Not that he'd mind particularly if the pink bird blew the Sobeks up, but he'd have some serious issues with it if their car was destroyed... it was really nice...

"Will you be okay on your own?" Marilyn questioned anxiously.

Yami rolled his tense shoulders. He fixed his two foster parents with an aggravated look finally at the end of his patience, "I know this will sound surprising, but I've been doing this 'school' thing for a while now... Oh, say the last thirteen years."

"Just checking." Marilyn muttered. Her blue eyes met with Cobalt's green, and they shared a private moment.

The orphan watched as Marilyn fished through her purse for a few seconds before withdrawing a spare set of keys. "These are yours. Have a good day at school."

Yami took the keys and shoved them in his pocket. Those were vain hopes, but Yami shrugged nonetheless. As reluctant as he was to admit it, he was touched by Marilyn's thought over getting Yami his very own set of keys. Maybe these people weren't so bad... "I'm not promising anything."

Marilyn smiled, a faint look of shock crossing her face. She'd obviously caught his double meaning, "But you'll try?"

He adjusted the book bag's strap on his shoulder and didn't answer. He glanced back at his foster parents and nodded before walking down the ridiculously long driveway. He might... try.

He trudged up to the front of the neighborhood where the bus would pick students up. Marilyn refused to let Yami walk to school on the first day when he could easily take the bus, she said it wasn't ethical.

Whatever.

Yami hadn't waited five minutes when a pale girl limped up to the stop. Yami crinkled his nose when a faint odor drifted from the girl.

It smelled strongly of fermented meat digested by rabid cannibals. Although fragrant, it was not a Kelvin Cline product that was for sure.

They stood in a customary silence and Yami occasionally gagged against the smell. The girl looked at him with colorless eyes, seemingly unaware that she was making Yami uncomfortable with her pungent smell.

Or maybe she was. It was hard to tell when one's eyes were watering.

Her skin was flaky and peeled as though it died a long time ago, but was now just recently beginning to come off her flesh. Yami would have suggested a good moisturizer to her if he wasn't trying to keep this morning's breakfast and last night's half-digested dinner in his stomach.

No where near soon enough, the bus came to a stop in front of the two teenagers. It was large, with completely black tinted windows. The body was sleek silver, a stark contrast to the rolling Twinkie of regular public schools. Teratos High really wasn't pulling any punches.

Once the two of them boarded, the girl took her place at the front of the bus, and in a desperate attempt to put some distance between himself and the odor, Yami seated himself in the far back.

The glow from the bus window was cold and blue from the darkened glass. It washed the color form Yami's face. He scowled, "I need a car..." His last adoptive parents, a cruel middle-aged couple, had commandeered his last vehicle of choice. Not that it had been much of a choice once his 'parents' had gotten done with it. The car was a refurbished Thunderbird, artfully dubbed, 'The Death Bucket' by none other than Yami. He'd been seriously disappointed and angry when it was taken from him.

The sooner he could get a method of transportation, the sooner he could get away from the girl who reeked like a grave robber who hadn't bathed in weeks.

Once again, the girl turned in her seat from the front of the bus to stare directly at Yami. The colorless eyes locked on the orphan, and Yami had the odd but sinking suspicion that she could read his mind. Yami almost laughed at his thoughts. He really needed to stop watching so much sci-fi.

Feeling mischievous, and a little vindictive, Yami looked directly at the zombie-girl, and thought 'You're stinky.' seamlessly in his head; sure that he was making eye contact with the girl's milky retinas, 'You are RANK! So take a bath!'

The girl's eyebrows shot downward into a harsh 'v', she flushed red and turned away as though insulted.

Astonished, Yami continued to stare at the girl long after she looked away. Only when the bus pulled up to the next stop did Yami snap from his stupor. He wrote the girl's timing off as a freaky coincidence. He was unaware of just how freaky things were about to get.

~~~~

Feeling bored now Yami pulled his CD player from his bag and buried the head phone buds in his ears. Taking a quick browse through his case jam packed with CDs, he withdrew Nightwish and grinned. Nothing beat rock and rock opera first thing in the morning. Especially when one had a long, annoying day of school ahead of them.

Unnoticed by the orphan, two teenagers got on the bus. They zeroed in on the new punk who was sitting in their seat (also known as Yami). Both had abnormally light hair; one to the extreme of pure white, and the other to blond. If Yami had looked up, he would have noticed the similarities between the white haired teenager and his friend Ryou, and the blond hair teenager and his friend Malik. Though there were distinct differences. While Ryou was pale, this new teenager was a dark tan, with gleaming garnet eyes and his white hair spiking out at angry angles. The Malik look-a-like had dark lavender eyes, deeply tanned skin, and spiky sandy hair. In both cases the clones stalking Yami clearly had height and mass over his two friends.

Yami did notice however when his CD player was snatched from his hands and headphones ripped from his ears. He glanced upward, eager to see the face of the person who dared to deprive Yami of his music fetish. If you screwed around with Yami's music, it would most likely be the last thing they would ever do.

"Hey Mariku, look at the little suckling who's in our seat!" The Ryou look a like jeered and opened Yami's CD player, "Nightwish..." He muttered, "Well, he's not a complete waste of space."

The orphan glared at the tan version of Ryou, wondering if he had a particular death fantasy. If so, he'd be more than happy to make it come true.

"What are we going to do with him Bakura? Mariku wants to play..." The Malik look-a-like giggled.

Bakura rolled his eyes, "Mariku, the last time you played you not only blew up the biology lab they had to call in the CDC and quarantine you for a month." Ignoring his companion's indignant reply he turned to a gaping Yami, "What's your name anyway?"

To answer, or not to answer; that was the question. Jesus, Yami was quoting Hamlet, what had the world come to?

"Yami." He said shortly a little annoyed with himself for being impressed with Mariku's apparent capacity for destruction.

"That's a stupid name."

"It's better than 'Bakura'." Yami shot back. The albino glared at Yami and tossed his CD player back at him. The Nightwish cd rattled in the player before spinning to a halt. Yami grabbed it and lifted the object onto his lap.

"What do you want?" Yami demanded and checked the battery life of the offended device.

"Where are you from?" Bakura ignored the question.

"I don't know." Yami snapped, well aware that what Bakura wanted to know was where he'd gotten his looks from. He always got that question, and it never failed to drive him up the wall.

Bakura looked surprised, "Are you serious?" He looked at Mariku. The blond jumped into the aisle and forced himself into Yami's seat. Mariku lowered his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. Lavender eyes focused on Yami's face, and the orphan was under the impression that the teenager in front of him could be classified under the category of 'mentally unstable'.

So absorbed was Yami in his musings, he missed the question Mariku was asking him.

"What was that? I wasn't paying attention." Yami turned towards Mariku.

The teenager gave a frustrated growl and snapped his teeth together. That's when Yami noticed that the teenager had rather long canines. Sorta like fangs. Okay, that was kinda creepy...

"Mariku asked Yami if he knew how and where he was created." If Bakura found it odd that Mariku was referring to himself in the third person, he didn't comment on it.

Yami quirked eyebrows, more than a little surprised that a teenager his age would flatly ask him a question like that, and not know the answer. He'd at least figured out the mechanics of it by the time he was nine for pete's sake! How could you get to be a teenager and not know this?

"Well..." He began slowly, as though speaking to a small, or particularly slow, child, "When two people love each other, they sometimes perform an act together... in the case of a man and woman that often creates something called a 'baby'."

Bakura and Mariku exchanged a slow look with one another. After a long pause, Bakura joined the seat with Yami and Mariku, squishing the orphan against the wall.

"This is going to sound weird," He began flatly, "But I thought I smelt a heart beating here..." He cracked his neck. Yami noticed Bakura's eyes glowed faintly red against the shadows cast by the tinted windows of the bus, "By any chance are, you a human?"

Before Yami could reply, Mariku, who was seemingly unable to control himself any longer, did something the orphan felt was so weird, so nasty he began to wonder if the other really did think he was a vampire or something.

What did Mariku do to freak Yami out? It wasn't really that bad, but Yami still found it disgusting.

Mariku tasted him.

Not that Yami was really thinking about it that way... What Yami saw, was a teenager holding his arm in a bear trap, and slobbering all over it. With a surprising display of strength he ripped his arm from Mariku's grip. His heart pounded against his chest, and a thrill of fear shot through his nerves.

"Keep your tongue to yourself!" Yami shouted, holding his arm protectively to his chest.

The blond ignored him scrunching his nose in disgust and gagged. "You taste nasty..."

"Well it's your fault you licked me. And what the fuck was that about anyway!"

All of Yami's yelling had attracted the attention of the bus driver. He pulled over to the side of the road and locked the emergency break into place, leaving his signals flashing. He slowly unbuckled his seat belt and stood up.

That driver's form lumbered across the mostly empty bus, stopping only to squeeze his huge form between the narrow seats.

Yami's gratitude at being rescued from the creepy teenagers who wanted to practice cannibalism promptly dissolved when he saw the driver's physique.

Green, slimy, and oozing out of his coveralls, the driver looked at the three teenagers with stern, buggy yellow eyes, "Is there a problem back here?"

Bakura and Mariku, unfazed by the bus driver's oily appearance smiled innocently and blinked large bambi eyes at him, "No sir!" They sang simultaneously.

He grunted under his breath, obviously amused, but trying to act firm, "And you?" He asked, turning to Yami.

The orphan, wide eyed and stunned, could only gape wordlessly at the humanoid mud ball standing in front of him in between the narrow seats.

"Well?" The driver demanded, spraying the orphan in the face with bits of wet dirt and slime. When he received no further answer from Yami other than a horrified gasp, he gave an irritated sigh, "Look kid, I've got to pick twenty more kids up at seven different stops, and I don't want any trouble."

Slowly, Yami managed to jerk his head in agreement. The slime driver looked relieved before squishing and squelching back to his seat.

Yami turned slowly towards the two teenagers sitting in his seat. He waited and remained silent until the driver started the bus again before breathing a loud, "What the fuck!"

Mariku sniggered at this, lavender eyes gleaming, "Yami is funny... for a mortal..."

The orphan was silent and uncharacteristically pale, "I don't understand... What? I... don't... huh?" He trailed off, looking helpless and desolate. He hated being confused and in the dark, but now he had absolutely no idea what was going on. It left him feeling afraid and vulnerable. Not a state he particularly appreciated being in.

Bakura, seeming to take a shred of pity on the confused orphan, placed himself in the seat across from Yami. "Welcome to Teratos High." He grimaced, seemingly not liking the name. His fangs, suddenly looking far more real to Yami than they would've moments ago, gleamed silver against the darkened windows, "You need a basic lesson on the Greek language to understand the simple mindset of our first principal."

Mariku nodded fervently, but Yami wasn't paying attention. He was far to busy trying to process what he'd just seen.

He wasn't having much luck.

Bakura and Mariku both picked up the faint, but telltale, traces of pure terror coming from their companion and paused to take a good look at the human. What they saw made them instantly feel bad. Yami was huddled as close to the window as he could get without merging with it, his eyes were wide and terrified as they stopped and more students got on board, one arm was wrapped protectively around his waist and the other hand at his throat in an instinctive gesture both had seen hundreds of times, and he'd gone as white as a ghost under his tan.

In short, he looked pathetic.

Bakura swore softly. Even an untrained cub would be able to tell the human was in shock, and if left alone would probably either go catatonic or try to run screaming from the bus. (And he well knew that either option was potentially fatal for a variety of reasons) Clearly, whatever the rest of his story was, Yami had not been prepared for Teratos and what that meant. Normally, that wouldn't bother him any, and would probably provide him and Mariku with hours of entertainment, but then most humans didn't have much of a backbone to begin with, couldn't trade insults with him without batting an eye, and couldn't wrench themselves from Mariku's grasp once he'd gotten a hold of them.

He hated to admit it, but he kind of liked the surly human.

Glancing at his best friend he saw his own thoughts reflected in uncharacteristically solemn lavender eyes. He arched an eyebrow in silent query. The other mulled it over for a moment before meeting Bakura's eyes with steely determination. Bakura grinned, nodded, and jabbed his thumb at the empty seat behind them. Without a moment's hesitation Mariku leapt up onto the seat, and in a display of agility no human could ever hope to match, vaulted over the back and into the seat behind them leaving Bakura and Yami alone.

"Well, I'll give you a hint on what 'Teratos' means." Bakura commented eager to distract his new friend from wherever his thoughts were, "It starts with an 'M' and ends with an 'Onster'." He shrugged, "A stupid name if you ask me, but that's a ghoul for you. No imagination whatsoever."

Bakura snickered as Yami blinked slowly and gave him a look that was borderline cross-eyed, "No joke. I once saw a ghoul try to ask a girl out. She fell asleep before he got through admitting he liked her!"

Yami snorted a laugh, "I've gone mad haven't I?"

Bakura laughed relieved that the human's fear had dissipated and been replaced with a kind of fatalistic acceptance, "No, but you'll probably wish you were by the time the day's out." He smirked and jerked a thumb at Mariku, "Mariku's syntax alone is enough to drive someone around the bend."

Yami choked on a laugh as Mariku growled indignantly and aimed a blow at Bakura's head. He was still convinced he was either dreaming or nuts, but for now he figured he'd just go along with it. At least it was entertaining, and a cut above his normally boring life.

He shook his head as his two companions tussled, a smirk forming at the corners of his mouth unconsciously. Definitely entertaining.

“So what are you two anyway?” He asked curiously. Might as well find out what he was really dealing with...

Bakura’s eyes gleamed and he smirked pleased at Yami's return to relative normalcy, “Why do you want to know?”

Yami eyed them warily, "'Cause I'm not interested in getting gnawed on if I can avoid it."

Mariku laughed at Yami’s words and the smirk never drifted from Bakura’s face. “Isn’t that funny?” Bakura asked Mariku. The insane blond giggled and nodded his head in agreement. Yami frowned, “What’s funny?”

“You think Mariku and Bakura are dangerous!” Mariku snorted between bursts of laughter.

Yami frowned, “Well aren’t you?”

Bakura's smirk widened, “Of course we are!” He snickered, “But humans are the most destructive creatures ever to plague this earth!”

Yami rolled his eyes, "Tell me something I don't know why don't you?"

Bakura opened his mouth, presumably to retort, but was interrupted when the bus lurched to a halt to let on more students. Noting Yami's curious gaze he sat back and let the human look at the beings he'd been taught all his life were mythical.

The bus was beginning to fill up now, and Yami found himself able to pick out the differences that made the students at Teratos High odd. Some were too hairy, some were too slimy, and some were too pointy. There were students who looked perfectly normal but had grown tusks, wings, or claws. Some even came on the bus, scaly with an amphibian tail and a bottle of salt water they'd use to keep themselves hydrated.

Yami was intrigued.

They certainly didn't seem like the terrifying monsters of legend. In fact, as several of them met up with friends or jockeyed for seats, they seemed like normal people. Some were loud, some weren't, some read, some played music... It was like every other bus full of people Yami had ever seen. Granted, they all had one or more features that made them stand out in a crowd, but Yami could hardly complain about that. Not with his eyes and hair.

Still, something within him was urging him not to drop his guard, and he was in complete agreement with that desire. After all, normal seeming or not, these were still creatures of legend. Powerful, magical, and probably capable of kicking his ass without much thought or effort. Great. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose feeling a royal headache coming on.

Feeling his cd case slide against his thigh reminded Yami that he really ought to put the thing up... Reaching around for his long-forgotten backpack he dropped both player and case inside; absently glancing out the window as he did so.

A moment later he let out a strangled yelp, and Bakura was surprised to find himself nearly shoved out of his seat as Yami propelled himself violently away from the window. Instinctively grabbing hold of his new packmate Bakura peered around Yami to see if he could find what had startled the human so badly. Not seeing anything Bakura glanced at a madly giggling Mariku in confusion. Mariku, unable to speak coherently around his laughter, just pointed out the window. Sudden realization dawned on the white haired boy and he too collapsed in laughter.

The bus had started flying.

~~~~

"Oh shut up." Yami grumbled at the two some minutes later an unwilling smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the two continued their cackling. He'd never admit it, but in retrospect, it had been rather funny.

"Yami tried to fly!" Mariku chortled for the umpteenth time. Yami just crossed his arms and sulked; periodically sending Mariku glares across the back of the seat. He kept his back firmly against the window so he wouldn't have to see the nauseating swirl of yellow, green, and purple streaks flashing by, and reminding him that wherever he was he wasn't in normal reality anymore.

Huffing indignantly he eyed Bakura, who'd finally managed to calm down some, "So, what reality or dimension are we heading to now?"

Bakura snickered, "That depends. How much do you know about the divisions of the three worlds and their inhabitants?"

Yami gave him a blank look.

“There are three categories of species which roam this earth,” Bakura explained smacking Mariku over the head to shut him up, “And in this earth, there are three separate time lands: Heaven, Middle-earth, and Hell.

Yami frowned, "What does that have to do with inter-dimensional travel?"

Bakura rolled his eyes, "Shut up a minute and I'll tell you."

Yami pouted.

“Now, the Mortal class lives in Middle-earth, The Divine class lives in Heaven, and the Demonic class lives in Hell. I’m sure you could have figured this much out by yourself. The Divine class has several sub-categories: like angels, seers, prophets, and gods. The Mortal class is pretty lame because it only deals with regular old human with an occasional individual who decides to tempt fate. The Demonic class is the best,” Bakura’s chest swelled with pride, “The Demonic class has many different sub-categories, which would be what you humans consider ‘monsters'.”

Mariku propped his feet on a seat, seemingly unaware of the precarious shaking of the bus flying through a rift in the time-space continuum, “Bakura and I fall under the ‘Demonic’ class.”

Yami didn’t need them to tell him that to see it obviously himself. “I couldn’t guess myself.” He said dryly.

“Mariku is a pure vampire” Bakura glanced at Yami, “That means all he does is suck blood.”

Yami frowned in confusion, “Is there a difference between vampires?”

Mariku snarled and huffed in annoyance. “Of course there is!” He snapped, clearly offended. “That’s like saying all Asians are Japanese, or all Hispanics are Mexican!”

"Well excuse me for not knowing the difference!" Yami snapped in aggravation, "It's not like they go out of their way to teach us these things in 'human' school!"

Mariku just crossed his arms and began to sulk, so Bakura continued the explanation.

“I mentioned that there are sub-categories in the Demonic and Divine class right? Well, for the sub-categories in the Demonic class, there are sub-categories for them too.” He said, “For instance, you can be a Demon who is a vampire; but depending on where you were created, you could become an incubus, who is a ‘vampire’ that sucks the life out of a being and thrives on sex. Or you could become a pocket vampire, or a bat shifter and communicator. There are many different versions of vampires; Mariku is just a plain vampire.”

Yami nodded slowly, it was beginning to make sense. “And you are?”

Bakura shrugged, “I’m a Shape shifter, class beast, type Chimera.”

The orphan’s mind swam, “And what does that mean?”

Bakura’s garnet eyes shut for a moment, thinking how he could go about explaining this new hurdle, “It’s hard to put in plain words, but I’ll try.” He muttered, “Basically in simple terms, I can change my form into a winged beast called a Chimera.”

“Okay, that makes sense. Does that make you like a werewolf?” He asked as the bus began to slow down. His instincts told him that they were nearing the end of their journey, and Teratos High would soon be in sight.

Bakura snorted, “Hell no!" He shook his head at Yami's uncomprehending look, “Werewolves are a bit... temperamental, and they get on your nerves...” Bakura growled. Clearly, he was thinking about someone in particular.

“How does that make them any different than you?” Yami snorted, a tiny smirk playing on his face. Despite his screaming and frayed nerves, the orphan was beginning to become comfortable with these two teenagers, strange as they were.

Bakura snorted and pushed Yami’s shoulder, “Shut up.” He growled, amused. “Werewolves have no control over themselves when they transform completely, although they are able to change whenever they feel like it.”

“No howling at the full moon then?”

“Oh please, Harry Potter has the story all wrong.” Mariku grumbled from the back seat.

“But they like to howl anyway.” Bakura added, “It can get really annoying...” Once again, the shape-shifter seemed to be thinking of someone in particular. Yami smothered a snicker.

The bus came to a halt, and Yami, along with everyone else, fumbled around for his things quickly. He had barely noticed the bus rolling to a stop, and in his haste, failed to glimpse the school. He snatched his CD player from Mariku - who had somehow stolen it and been entertaining himself for several minutes by pressing the play/pause button repetitive times - and stuffed it in his bag.

The students all stood up, waiting impatiently for them to be allowed out of the bus. Yami joined the throng of warm (and sometimes cold) bodies a little apprehensively. Maybe Mariku and Bakura weren't so bad, but he wasn't nearly so confident about the rest of the Teratos population.

"Don't worry." Mariku said cheerfully, "No one will eat you... probably..."

Yami glared at him his headache returning full force, "Gee, thanks."

"Anytime!" The vampire chirped giving the human a toothy grin. Yami just rolled his eyes and stepped off the bus.

He was unprepared for the sight that awaited him.