Naming the Flame

Naming the Flame

Trei

Chapter Five

Sometime following noon’s
twelfth call, Ryou closed the gap between his room and the bathroom. It was a
little daunting at first, but he finally managed to assess his appearance in
the mirror. In the harsh light bellowing from the ceiling fan’s green-shaded
lamps, his hair looked like a reincarnation of Swamp Thing. And he’d thought
the spirits had bizarre hair tendencies. Heh. Ryou Bakura, meet Swamp Thing,
the creature who will share your head for the next few minutes.

While he pulled and yanked
tenacious knots from his hair, Ryou considered his week so far. Monday, worked
on homework for vacation - finished in two hours (all three subjects). Tuesday,
went to the movies with Malik, got caught by his father while making out with
said Egyptian in the Jacuzzi, witnessed a catfight between Kaiba and Otogi, was
warned by his sacred artifact’s guardian spirit of terrible danger and was
assaulted by a demon geyser. Wednesday morning, woke up on the floor in pain,
was temporarily blinded by sunlight, met mother’s darling and beloved nephew
and his surreptitious koibito. Now Thursday, Ryou wasn’t exactly hoping for any
normality. The most he could hope for was breakfast before anything else decided
to toy with his remaining sanity.

Ducking into jeans and his
mother’s old black Cambridge University (1) sweatshirt, Ryou left his hair in
the same jagged mess (2) it was always in and descended the stairs. While
passing through the hallway, the teen frowned adorably and tugged the long
sleeves. The sweatshirt was a long way from its former glory, but it maintained
most of the letters of the British college and was only tatty around the hems
circling his narrow waist. And though he liked it for its ample comfort, if
he’d known how endearingly and innocently juvenile he looked while wearing it,
he wouldn’t have worn it downstairs that morning.

While rubbing specks of
sleep from his eye with a loose fist, Ryou crossed the thold old between
hallway and kitchen. It was there he stopped, halted in his tracks by the
unexpected presence he came upon. Sora was comfortably seated on the surface of
the kitchen’s mahogany island, intently watching the microwave rotate what Ryou
could barely discern as a Poptart. …Didn’t you use a toaster for things like
that?

The floor underneath
Ryou’s feet creaked as he continued warily into the room. Sora looked up in
surprise, snapping rapt eyes to meet Ryou’s startled pair. After a second of
examination, the brunet smiled gleefully and chirped, “Good morning!” Then, as
an afterthought, he glimpsed the clock and amended, “Well, now it’s more like
afternoon.”

Ryou nodded and lightly
jumped onto one of the stools near the island, perching the heels of his hands
on the front. He peered at Sora blankly through platinum-veined locks.

The other boy, undaunted,
turned to face his koibito’s cousin more fully, saying in a cheerful tone, “You
and Riku couldn’t be related any closer than cousins. He’s always
up hours before I even have the drive to get up. You’re more like me. I can’t
wake up any earlier than noon in the summer. It just defeats the whole purpose
of vacation.”

Again, Ryou nodded, his
eyes drifting to the attached dining room, noting the absence of his cousin.
“Where is Riku, anyway?” he asked quietly.

Sora shrugged with far too
much energy, hopping from the island and retrieving his breakfast pastry from
the microwave. “Probably exploring your neighborhood.” He smiled as he broke
the Poptart in half, revealing a spread of strawberry sugar glop. Yeah, this
was definitely Ryou’s kitchen. “He’s obsessed with seeing new places. It was
all he’d talk about back on Destiny Island.”

Though mostly indifferent
towards his cousin and the brunet, Ryou found himself asking, “Is that your
home?”

Sora smiled sadly. “Was.
We haven’t been back there in a while. Riku doesn’t really want to go back.”

“Do you?”

“Sometimes.” Sora shrugged
again and bit into the Poptart, his tense expression vanishing as soon as the
berry syrup touched his lips. In a vastly more carefree voice, he said around
the jelly, “You and Riku should spend some time together. I know he’s always
been curious about his father’s side of the family. I think that’s what your
father said…your mother and his father were sister and brother, right?”

Ryou nodded absently.

Sora tilted his head
curiously. “You don’t talk much,” he observed harmlessly.

I do when Malik’s
trying to get my shirt off. Stifling a snicker at that, Ryou replied out loud, “I’m sorry. I’m not
much for big conversation first thing after I wake up.” He yawned to stress
this.

Sora nodded
sympathetically, reclaiming his former position on the island. “So what’s there
to do for fun around here?” he asked.

Depends where you go, thought the tired boy with an
inward grin. “There’s plenty. But it depends on what you want to do. Way to
waste time, hang out for a while…. Sightsee?”

Sora shook his head,
grinning. “With a tour guide? Not us. Riku and I like finding out things for
ourselves. Besides, if you mention the location of any metropolis larger than
Domino to him, neither of us’ll see Riku again until we leave.” He finished off
the Poptart with satisfied smacking of his jam-dabbled fingertips.

“Mmm!” the brunet purred.
“What are those things?”

Ryou repressed an amussmilsmile and said, “They’re Poptarts. Didn’t you have any where you come from?”

“Never!” The little flame
of adoration in Sora’s eyes tattled on the brunet to Ryou - Riku had
competition…with a breakfast pastry.

Ryou’s developing
amusement at his cousin’s koibito was cut short by a sudden shrieking noise in
the corner. Ryou winced. Some phones have nice, melodious pealing rings…like
bells. Some phones have short electronic reverberating coos. The Bakuras’ phone
sounded like a toaf paf parakeet in the middle of a Mariah Carey karaoke.

Sora seemed to think along
the same lines and quickly retrieved the phone, thrusting it in Ryou’s face
with a grimace.

Grinning apologetically,
Ryou wrapped the cord around the bottom of the tabletop and nestled the phone
to his ear. “Moshi moshi?” (3)

“Konnichiwa (4), tenshi,”
a smug voice purred. “Sleep well without me?”

Rolling his eyes with mock
exasperation, Ryou answered flatly, “Konnichiwa. Could you speak a little
louder next time or shall I immediately put you on speakerphone?”

Malik laughed, a sound
that lifted the teasing annoyance from Ryou’s face, replacing it with a fond
sort of smile. “I just saw your father’s car pass an hour ago,” the Egyptian
said, smiling through the distance between them. “He’s off on one of his sand
ventures?”

“Hai (5). He said he’d be
back in September.”

“Before or after your
birthday?”

“I didn’t ask. He came
into my room when he thought I was still asleep and told me he was going.
Seemed eager to get out of here.”

“Away from you? The man’s
insane. Anyway, Isis is supposed to be back from Egypt today. I was wondering….
Em….”

Ryou couldn’t stop the
smile that heightened his already childishly adorable expression. “What is it,
kichou?”

“She asked me to pick up
Tabibito (6) from the kennel,” the Egyptian muttered darkly.

At the disgusted tone his
koibito used in reference to hider der sister’s beloved calico kitten, Ryou
laughed with abundant amusement. Tabibito and Malik were vicious enemies,
separated mostly by their vehement stubbornness. The kitten had followed Isis
home from the museum one night and by morning, had earned an everlasting soft
spot in the elder Ishtar’s heart and the spare set of keys to Malik’s
motorcycle (which were yet to be found). The mischievous kitten now thought of
Malik as a pushover, since the blond wouldn’t dare retaliate to the antics of
his sister’s kitten without fear of severe pummeling. Older sisters. Ugh.

“Stop laughing at me!”
Malik growled. He sounded vaguely put off, almost sulky.

Ryou bit his lip with
intent and chuckled, “I’m sorry, kichou. Do you want me to come?”

“Please! It likes
you!”

Ryou rolled his eyes
fondly. Tabibito was just about the warmest kitten in Japan. He only disliked
Malik’s sour attitudeard ard him. If Malik could be act a little less Jack
Nicholson (7) toward the poor calico, they may actually get along. “All right,”
he said patiently. “When should I come over?”

“I’ll pick you up. Right
after I find a chain to keep my keys on….”

With a grin, Ryou teased,
“I don’t think Tabibito’s going to try the same trick on you twice, saiai.”

“Even so, I don’t trust
that splotchy furball. Did I tell you it tried to bite my ear off last week?”

“Twice.”

“It’s a menace.”

“Yes, koi.”

“…You’re grinning.”

Ryou covered his
tattletale mouth and giggled, “I’m not!”

“Baka no furball…. I’ll be
by in fifteen minutes, all right?”

“Hehe, chotto ja (8).”

“Aishiteru.”

“Itsumo (9).” Ryou crossed
the kitchen with a warm smile, draping the phone on its hook in a wistful
manner. Was Malik only asking him to come so he would have an excuse to be
around his ivory-haired kojika? Probably. Malik had yet to learn the tact of
dating. …Or tact of any kind, come to think about
F
From his perch on the
island, Sora grinned, “Who was that?”

Ryou jolted, having
conveniently forgotten there was another presence in the room. …No wonder we
were discovered, he berated himself mentally. How more obvious could I
be? Caught, Ryou answered uneasily, “Um…a friend….”

High-pitched giggling erupted
in the depths of Ryou’s mind, followed hastily by nonsensical strings of
ancient Egyptian. >>ANUKTET!? Amunikin kepsu kut nekentut siijek
tekawep?! …Beket kab’ni setitet…. (10)<<

Which, if Ryou translated
the spirit’s half-depraved, half-hysterical tone correctly, probably meant,
“Friend?! Such things play the role of malnourished sex kitten?! …I shouet
et
one….” Which, if Ryou wanted to maintain any of his remaining normality,
would not be happening.

“A friend, huh?” grinned
Sora, drawing Ryou quite willingly back to reality. “Sounds like a pretty close
friend to me….”

Ryou, vaguely defensive
and a little nervous, replied softly, “Like you and my cousin?” with a few
traces of a grin.

Sora wasn’t expecting
that. Or at least, that’s what Ryou assumed after a resounding THUD
filled the kitchen. From the floor, Sora stared up at his koibito’s cousin in
shock, one hand nursing the ache in his rear quarters….

Ryou’s grin widened. Now
he understood Malik’s fondness of besting people. It was fun in a ress ess sort
of way…. Definitely dating Malik too long….

“You…how did you…?” The
poor brunet seemed to sink into the floor, turning beetroot crimson.

Taking pity on Sora, Ryou
smiled, “I heard you and Riku upstairs last night.”

If possible, which it
seemed so now, the red in Sora’s face tripled in darkness.

Ryou wondered for a moment
why Sora was blushing. Then…oh. Oh…. OH! “I meant I heard your
conversation about the Heartless!” he exclaimed quickly. Agh, Sora and his
cousin and…aaaagh! His cousin!

Sora’s face faltered in
mortification, dipping straight into relief. “Oh…umm…so did I.”

Agh! His cousin!

**

“You’ll give him a heart
attack!”

“Oh, come on, Ryou. He’s
not a cat; he’s a demon menace come to reap the benefits of world hunger, pain
and the eventual destruction of mankind. A little air will do him good.”

Pointedly, Ryou retorted,
“He’s a kitten, Malik. He’s not even four months old and you’re going to strap
him on the back of a motorcycle for thirty minutes?”

“He’s not a kitten.
He’s a menace!”

Ryou’s expression held no
restraint, only pure sarcasm. “Yes, Malik, his sole activity in the kennel was
plotting against you. And as soon as you let him out of his cage, he’ll tear
your face off with those terrifying centimeter-long claws.”

Malik made a face, folding
his arms over his chest with a potent air of obstinacy. “Isis left the twerp at
the kennel for a reason, kojika,” he said, leaning on his motorcycle and
resting his arm on the pet carrier strapped to the back.

“Yes, she did,” said Ryou
with an exasperated look. “So you wouldn’t try to pull an all-out assassination
on her kitten.”

“She likes that cat more
than she does her own brother,” sulked Malik under his breath.

Smiling, Ryou pushed an
adamant lock of gold from Malik’s petulant features. The Egyptian turned lilac
eyes from the concrete, pouting vaguely. “You’re not jealous of Tabibito, are
you?” smiled Ryou.

“Jealous!?”
shrieked Malik. “Of that hairball!?”

Ryou nodded.

“…Yes, now get on.”

This, however, was far too
rich a situation to ignore and let pass by. Thus, Ryou crumbled into fits of
giggles. “You can’t be serious, kichou!”

Malik made a face of
strong annoyance and climbed deftly atop his bike. There he waited
semi-patiently while Ryou emptied the entire contents of his amusement at his
koibito’s expense. Malik drummed his fingertips on his folded arms, striving to
remain pissed while listening to the endearing sounds of Ryou’s laughter.
Now…why did he date the adorable one? Oh, right; everyone else thought he was
psychotic. Elitists. Hmph.

“Ryou,” he finally
growled, “it’s not funny.”

No reaction.

“Fine, then, I’ll leave
you here with your hentai cousin and his koibito,” the Egyptian threatened,
revving the engine forebodingly.

A halved second later, he
heard all sounds of laughter entirely diminished to nothing and felt Ryou
behind him, his arms latched around his ch Mal Malik smirked. Oh, the power of
abandonment.

The kennel was, in
reality, only fifteen minutes away. But the ride was more than a little hectic
with Malik driving, though Ryou suspected the Egyptian of being a twinge more
careful with his ivory-haired koibito at risk. He wasn’t worried now. What he was
concerned about was what Malik’s driving would be like once Tabibito joined
their number. This thought in mind, Ryou tightened his grip on Malik’s chest
doubtfully.

Upon reaching the right
avenue, Ryou quickly pointed out their destination, a small building identified
as “Yume no Neko (11)” by a pastel, paw print-bedecked sign in the front lawn.
Leaving the Egyptian’s motorcycle in the front driveway, Ryou and Malik
unhurriedly walked toward the house to retrieve Isis’ infamous calico kitten.

A buttery compilation of
delicate chimes announced their entrance and alerted the kennel’s owner, who
appeared to be singing a rather smug-looking Persian to sleep in the back room.
Malik made a face and turned its glory on Ryou, who merely giggled in reply and
shook his head. Isis spared no expense for her cherished Tabibito, that was for
sure.

“Hello?” called Malik,
sounding more than a little desperate. The bountiful array of crayon-sketched
pictures of orange stick figures hugging smiling purple kitties was enough to
make even the most successfully rehabilitated villain blanch.

The owner, a woman looking
to be in her late twenties, snapped her attention from the Persian and
whispered loudly, “Shhh! I’ll be with you in a moment!”

Malik’s face paled a few
shades more at the mere thought of being in this place longer than he needed to
be. “Ryou, if I don’t make it out of here, make sure my bike gets a good home,”
he whimpered overdramatically.

Rolling his eyes, Ryou
laced a hand around the Egyptian’s, murmuring, “If anything hisses at you,
don’t hiss back.”

Malik turned a deadpanned,
but suffering Look on his koibito.

Ryou giggled again.

Finally, the dim noise of
bass purring replaced the owner’s quiet humming. The owner, pleased with her
victory, rose from the chair seated beside the lavishly ornate enclosure and
approached the pair. Shutting the door to the long line of cages behind her,
she asked, “What can I help you with, boys?”

Malik tugged his hand
loose of Ryou’s and leaned his arms on the front desk nonchalantly. “I’m here
to pick up my sister’s demon.”

The woman’s eyebrows
arched.

Ryou, arms crossed in ensiensive air, said, “His name is Tabibito. He’s a calico - ”

“ - Demon.”

Ryou glared halfheartedly.

The woman ignored their
banter with a patient shake of her head and said, “Yes, I know the kitten
you’re talking about. Tabi’s getting to be quite the lady’s man around here.”
She smiled with amusement and studied Malik. “I can see where he got the
encouragement for it.”

Ryou’s shoulders arced
possessively, a slight frown crossing his gentle features.

Malik smirked over his
shoulder. “Hear that? I’m a lady’s man,” he teased.

Ryou wished for a moment
that he had claws and an excuse like PMS to use as a defense when the police
asked him why he’d sent his saiai to the hospital in ribbons.

“Wait here,” said the
woman with a smile thrown at Malik. She disappeared into the roo room.

As soon as she’d gone,
Malik idly toyed with a kitty fish-shaped treat. “So, Ryou…. What do you think
of the kennel lady? Sexy legs, don’t you think?”

When the woman returned
with a sleepy Tabibito contentedly purring and nuzzled into her careful
embrace, she was met with the scene of Malik choking laboriously while Ryou sat
on the edge of the counter, swinging his legs absendedldedly and innocuously
smiling. The owner, concerned, frowned and asked Ryou, “Is he all right?!”

Ryou nodded calmly, fondly
tousling his hacking koibito’s hair. “He tried to eat one of the fish treats.”

**

Yugi Motou was used to the
exceptionally bizarre. In fact, he now viewed normality as the truly bizarre.
School was becoming awkward for him, too, as whenever the words “Egypt”,
“monster” or “cards” were dropped into casual conversation, the tricolored teen
would yelp and run in the opposite direction. If he’d been picked on by bullies
badly before, he was officially a bully magnet now. One would think he had a
cologne that attracted pain and weirdness.

Or maybe he was just
doomed.

The cause of his
nervousness when it came to Egypt and Sennen Item topics might have bdue due to
the stress of owning several Millennium Items, including the Puzzle, Tauk and
Rod, and the god cards Malik had given him. Still, the spirit of the Rod was
banished to the Shadow Realm, the spirit of the Ring was laying low and no one
had tried to kill Yugi for his shiny triangle lately. Life wasn’t good,
but it was about as close to it as he was going to get. After all, when one
still has one’s hair drenched in lavatories, one doesn’t commonly describe
one’s life as “good”.

Yet, though Yugi’s
position in school hadn’t changed from “kick me, I’m diminutive”, he always had
the spirit of the Puzzle to keep him company. Okay, so the former Pharaoh was a
little on the crazed side (12), but he was better company than the school
toilets.

Until he’d informed Yugi
that his life was now once again bizarre. Up until ten minutes ago, Yugi had
believed Yami no Malik to be sealed forever inside of the Shadow Realm. But in
fact, not only was Yami no Malik not in the Shadow Realm, he was gaining
on the dice bce between Domino and wherever he was terrorizing now. But what
was confusing were the spirit’s motives. From what the Pharaoh had managed to
learn from the Ring’s guardian (by means of diplomacy, he had insisted), Yami
no Malik wasn’t coming after Yugi, the Pharaoh or anything shiny or golden. In
fact, the Pharaoh suspected not even Yami no Bakura knew what the Rod’s former
guardian was up to.

For his part, Yugi was a
little miffed. He wasn’t supposed to face the same villain twice! That
just wasn’t the way organized evil worked! He defeated Yami no Malik,
so…so…there!

Unfortunately, the Pharaoh
informed the holder of the Puzzle that his logic may not be as powerful to the
ears of Yami no Malik - especially not if Yugi kept sticking his tongue out.

Yugi hopped onto the foot
of his bed and folded his legs underneath him neatly. Yami no Yugi remained
standing near the door, arms crossed over his phantasmal chest. It was a little
unnerving at first to see the Pharaoh in surroundings of reality, since the
spirit, when not connected to Yugi, was exactly that - a metaphysical shadow of
his former self. Well, in more truthful terms, it had been downright creepy.
Not only did Yami noi loi look like him, but he was also a great deal
darker and more menacing. It reminded him of the time he’d spilled paste all
over his Uncle Akumu’s six-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. …Puzzle? Yugi blinked.
Well…isn’t that ironic?

“Yugi? What’s wrong?”

Yugi shook his head free
of distracting thoughts and grinned up at the Pharaoh. “Nothing. How much did
the spirit of the Ring tell you about Yami no Malik?” he asked.

The Pharaoh shook his head
in an air of frustration. dly dly anything useful to us. The tomb robber speaks
in riddles - I fear he is too far off of the spectrum of common sanity to be
anything but tiresomely perplexing.”

Yugi nodded, having
expected a report of this pallor. After all, Yami no Bakura had spent thousands
of years trapped into a pen of solitude. It was only understandable that most
of his remaining sanity had been drained by the excruciating sentence.
Sometimes Yugi wondered why the Pharaoh had bothered to lock the tomb robber’s
soul away if he hated him so much. Because of his former actions, the Pharaoh
was now responsible forelchelching the tomb robber’s indiscreet displays of
madness and violence. If the Pharaoh had wished to chastise the Ring spirit,
there were only so many other ways to do it…. Why eternal damnation in a sacred
artifact?

Yugi, the bright lad, suspected
ulterior motives.

“He did say this,
however,” continued the Pharaoh in a meditative voice. “He said, ‘the abstract
form of Yami no Malik has been shone upon by the moon, releasing his darkened
soul into veracity. He is no longer the Darkness…and neither am I.’”

Yugi looked alarmed by the
enigmatic conundrum, violet eyes wide with trepidation. “What does it mean, mou
hitori no boku (13)?” he asked, using his moniker for the Pharaoh absently.
“Hasn’t he always called himself the Darkness?”

The Pharaoh nodded. “It
appears the tomb robber knows a great deal more than he’s willing to share with
me.” He frowned darkly and muttered, “Though it would be for his benefit if he
did.”

Yugi, sensing a Pharaoh
bitchfit, chirped, “What should we do?”

The Pharaoh tilted his
head and thought the question over with scrupulous detail. At length, he said,
“Until we know the true motives of Yami no Malik, we can do nothing but
observe.”

Yugi nodded. He’d expected
as much. “So…what now?”

The Pharaoh smirked. “Now
you finish your summer homework.”

“B-but - ! What?!”
cried the younger boy indignantly. “What about Yami no Malik!? I can’t just do
math homework knowing he’s terrorizing innocent people!”

Yami no Yugi patted his
charge’s shoulder with a formless hand, more for solace than for actual
contact. “Then rest assured…he will be watched.” Then, with an infuriating
grin, the spirit vanished from Yugi’s bedroom.

…“When I die, you’re in so
much trouble, mou hitori no boku!”

**

Ryou asked Mato sto stop
by his house so he could check on his cousin and Sora, but found the house to
be vt. St. Shrugging, Ryou locked the front door and closed the garage
absently, which had been open when he arrived. Suspecting that Riku and Sora
muave ave found some other way to amuse themselves, Ryou pocketed his keys and
walked back to the bike.

When he reached the curb,
he caught Malik taunting the spitting kitten in the carrier. “Not so vicious
now, are you, youkai?” he was hissing through the crossbars.

Ryou folded his arms and
cleared his throat, making a show of tapping his foot against the pavement with
vivid annoyance. Malik’s eyes hit the sidewalk and slowly trailed up to meet
Ryou’s eyes. The younger boy said sharply, “Stop calling him a demon, Malik.
And stop tormenting him, or I’m telling Isis what means of transportation you
chose to deliver him home.”

Malik blanched slightly.
“She doesn’t scare me,” he said in a wavering tone.

Ryou hopped off the curb
and grabbed Malik’s collar, dragging the older teen down to his eevelevel.
“Pester the animal again and the only action you’ll be seeing will be in
movies,” he said, dangerously close to the other’s lips.

A wash of pure, absolute
fear captured Malik’s face. “You wouldn’t dare,” he whispered.

“Push me and find out,”
Ryou murmured back, kissing his koibito’s forehead. “I’m only quiet until I see
bullies like you beleaguering helpless animals like Tabibito.”

Malik sulked, wrenching
his shirt from Ryou’s loosened grip. “I’m not a bully,” he pouted dramatically.

Ryou smiled, though he
tried valiantly to hide it, and leaned over the back of the bike, fiddling with
Tabibito’s carrier.

“Hey,” said Malik,
straining to look over his shoulder, “what are you doing?”

Ryou turned and nimbly
stepped up onto the curb, a mewling ball of fur writhing in his arms. At
Malik’s perplexed look, Ryou said, “You’ve gotten your fun scaring the living
spirit out of him. I’m going to carry him the rest of the way.”

Malik’s eyes widened.
“Ryou!” he protested. “It’s eight blocks to my house!”

“So?”

“So….” Malik struggled
with his next words. Yeah, Malik, a voice (thankfully not from any kind
of golden object) asked, so?

A light sparkled in Ryou’s
eyes. “You’re really jealous of him, aren’t you, kichou?” he asked warmly.

“I’m not jealous of
that hacked up hairball!” I just don’t want you paying more attention to him
than to me! …Wait, that’s jealousy.

Ryou rolled his eyes and
leaned out dangerously, pecking the Egyptian on the cheek sweetly. “I’ll meet
you at your house, all right?”

Malik grumbled and revved
the bike’s engine. “Isis is coming home at six - try to be back before then.”
With a last suffering look at Ryou and a poisonous glower at the jade-eyed
kitten, he tore down the street and disappeared ‘round the corner recklessly.

Tabibito craned his neck
and watched Ryou shake his head fondly. “Mrew?” he inquired in a tiny voice.

Ryou smiled and ran ginger
fingertips behind the kitten’s part sooty part tangerine ear. To the kitten’s
closed-eyed look of pure content and cozy purring, Ryou answered, “Yeah, he’s a
little difficult sometimes, but he’s got a good heart.”

Tabibito licked Ryou’s
hand in agreement. Open, trusting bottle green eyes smiled up at the
ivory-haired teenager.

Ryoturnturned the silent
smile and gently repositioned the Tabibito so the kitten’s spine rested on his
arm and his little back legs bent into the air, kicking at a stray thread from
Ryou’s sweatshirt.

“How can Malik call you a
demon?” Ryou wondered, catching a finger between Tabibito’s front paws. As the
kitten playfully tried to bite through the nail, his back legs clawed at the
teen’s wrist without malice. It was all fun to him. He looked sweet and he
pretended to be a pestt het he was really a soft-hearted kitten. Ryou hid a
smile. Tabibito and Malik had more in common than either might have willingly
assumed.

**

Isis was unpacking her
clothes into her corner dresser when the front door opened sullenly. She smiled
slightly and called, “Why the sulk, brother?”

The door slammed with more
force than necessary and Isis continued folding clothes. A moment later, the
astonished face of her brother appeared in the doorway, accompanied by the rest
of his shock-rigid body.

With a maternal “tsk”,
Isis threw a rolled-up pair of socks at her brother’s partially revealed
bronzed abdomen and teased, “You still wear that?” When her sibling merely
maintained his stare, she continued, “Do you think I’m the only one who knows
you’ve had that sweatshirt for five years?”

“Why are you home early?”
the youngest Ishtar asked in a monotone.

Isis folded a particularly
pesky sweater and set it gently into the third drawer. “Most people probably
think you bought it like that - like you mean to boast half of your
torso to the world.”

“You were supposed to be
home at six.”

“I wonder what they would
think if they knew it shrunk in the wash?”

“Isis!”

Laughing at her brother’s
cross expression, Isis replied, “I managed to reserve an earlier flight. I just
arrived home a half an hour ago.”

“Oh.” His question
answered, Malik leaned against the doorframe and studied sistsister’s actions.
“You missed me that much?” he teased. “Why, Isis, I’m touched.”

Isis smiled, pausing her
unpacking to approach her brother and hug him tightly. “Yes, I missed you, you
idiot,” she said warmly, ruffling the back of his hair.

Malik jerked out of her
embrace, blushing violently. “Isis,” he groaned, “please. I’m not five
years old anymore.”

“A pity, that,” sighed his
sister, resting her palm on Malik’s cheek. “You were an adorable child.”

Malik’s blush deepened.
“Older sisters bite,” he grumbled.

“And younger brothers are
maddening pests,” Isis teased, returning to her previous task.

Malik set to work fixing
his hair into its former organized chaos.

“Oh,” said Isis suddenly,
glancing up. “Where’s Tabibito? Did you pick him up yet?”

Malik blanched. There
goes distracting her…. “I…uh…not…yes?”

Isis frowned at her
brother’s stammering. “Where is my Tabibito, brother?”

“…Funny thing, that….”

Isis crossed her arms, her
frown growing threatening. “Intrigue me.”

“Um….” Thinking quickly,
Malik did the first thing that bubbled into composition in his mind and ran for
the stairs - not to mention his life.

“Not so fast, Malik!” Isis
tore after her brother, wielding a menacing-looking hairdryer. “Where is
Tabibito?!”

Malik flew down the stairs
three at a time, grabbing the ornate fixture at the bottom rail and veering
into the living room. “Check the interstate!” he shouted over his shoulder with
a thriving cackle.

“I’m going to tear you
apart!” screamed Isis, vaulting over the back of the couch and hurling a fairly
new book on Egyptian Pharaohs at her brother’s head. “He’s just a baby!”

“He is not!”

“He is - !”

SLAM.

Isis dashed through the
kitchen and latched onto the knob of the basement door. Locked. “Malik, you
intolerable brat! What have you done to my neko saiai!?”

“Your ‘beloved cat’?!”
Malik yelled through the door. “That thing is a demon!”

“You’re just jealous!”

“I am not!”

“You are so!”

“Not!”

“I’m not playing this game
with you, brother! Open the door!”

…Malik’s laughter leaked
through the doorjambs. “You can’t get in!” he taunted in a song ong voice.

Isis growled. “And you
cannot get out!” To emphasize this point, she grabbed a chair from the table
and roughly slammed the back under the knob.

The laughter stopped,
shortly followed by urgent shaking of the doorknob from the other side. “Isis!
You can’t do this to me!”

Isis smirked. “Oh, but I
can.” And with that, she walked away.

Which clearly proves that
the Ishtar siblings were very loving and dear to each other. Except when they
weren’t.

**

As soon as Tabibito’s
cavernous eyes zeroed in on the Ishtars’ charming little domicile, the calico
screeched a feline battle cry and abandoned Ryou’s arms in favor of the front
lawn. Thinking the kitten was trying to escape, Ryou darted after him.

“Tabibito!” he called. The
kitten leapt agilely and caught his terrifying centimeter-long claws into the
soft wood of the backyard’s fence. In a few moments, he had squirmed his way to
the top and wobbled uncertainly. “Tabibito!” Ryou coaxed, skidding to an abrupt
halt before the gate. The kitten, mischievously, turned his head and gave a
solitary war cry before diving into the backyard.

Cringing, Ryou imagined
for a moment what Isis would say if she ever found out he’d lost her cat.
Malik, naturally, would be overjoyed and would probably worship his koibito for
the rest of his juvenile life. Isis, though….

With a resigned sigh, Ryou
fastened his hands at the top of the gate and with some effort scrambled to the
lip. Jumping off the gate, Ryou landed rather gracelessly on the lawn below,
tinting his knees with bruises and his jeans with grass stains. Isis better adore
this cat, he thought with a grimace.

Tabibito was happily
bounding across the lawn, his mottled ginger, ivory and ebony fur gleaming like
wrinkled river water in the noonday sunlight. Ryou was after him in a flash,
ignoring the friendly reminders of abject pain in his knees. “Tabibito!” he
called.

The kitten hesitated and
swiveled his furry head to glimmer knowing irises at his pursuer. “Mreow,” he
chirruped cheekily.

Ryou rolled his eyes and
scooped the kitten into a no-nonsense embrace, continuing his trek for the
porch. Tabibito pushed his muzzle into Ryou’s upper arm, his ears flat against
his ivory head and his eyes closed with content. Yep, definitely comparable to
Malik. Just as just as difficult to predict and just as annoying.

Unconcerned with creating
too much of a stir, Ryou pushed the back door open with a resounding screech.
“Malik!” he called, shutting the door behind him. The house was silent.
“Malik?”

No response. Ryomm”emm”ed
and turned his gaze on the ball of fur staring up at him questioningly. Ryou
shrugged. Then like an orchestra made solely of stampeding iron-shoed mammoths,
the staircase of the second floor began to thunder and bellow. Ryou, eyes wider
than coffee saucers, took a recoiling step back.

Isis landed on the first
floor platform, her eyes wild and frantic. “TABIBITO!” she cried, running
full-out at her brother’s koibito and the fluffy cherub mewling in his arms.RyouRyou, thoroughly terrified
of the feverish Egyptian woman, reeled back, holding the kitten at arm’s
length. In a moment Tabibito was torn from his shaking hands and drawn lovingly
into Isis’ arms. “Oh, my little Tabibito! My beloved wanderer! Where were
you? Did that jealous sprite hurt you?”

Ryou assumed she meant
Malik. …Speaking of Malik. “Um…Isis?”

The raven-haired mystic
brought her eyes to meet Ryou’s and without warning smothered the ivory-haired
teenager in a vertebrae-cracking hug. “Oh, Bakura-kun! Thank you!”

Outright mortified, Ryou
mumbled, “Y-you’re welcome.”

The eldest Ishtar drew
back and smiled kindly. Since the beginning of their relationship, Isis had
been quite fond of her brother’s choice of koibito - which was only made
stronger when Ryou proved to be a reliable advocate on the topic of Tabibito.
“I assume you saved Tabibito from my demonic sibling’s hands?” she asked with
her usual breath of calm and composure. There was no sign of her previous
hysteria. Some people were just plain…weird about their pets.

“RYOU!”

Alarmed, Ryou scoured the
living room for the source of the familiar voice. “Malik?”

Isis smiled enigmatically
and brushed a renegade strand of snowy hair behind Ryou’s ear, gesturing to the
basement in the same motion. “He’s in there,” she said, turning toward the
kitchen. Now addressing Tabibito, she cooed, “You must be starving, my little
wanderer. We’ll just give you Malik’s dinner.”

Tabibito caterwauled in
protest. Ryou could understand his horror - Malik was a painstaking vegetarian.

To the sounds of arguing
meows and coaxing persisting in the kitchen, Ryou moved the chair aside from
the basement door. “Malik?” he called, opening the door warily -

- THUD.

Ryou’s back hit the wall
opposite the basement door, compliments of the force titled Malik Ishtar the
Meticulously Impatient. Encircling his arms around his startled koi’s neck,
Malik purred, “Remember when I asked you if I’d ever given you the impression
that I’d try to throw you off a cliff?”

Ryou, intimidated by the
dark look in his saiai’s eyes, nodded meekly.

The older teen nuzzled a
soft kiss into Ryou’s lips. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a wink. “I’m
saving it for my sister.”

Ryou relaxed against the
wall, driving a slow breath of relief through his nearly crushed lungs. Malik
chuckled and kissed him again, eliciting a delighted smile from his tenshi
koibito.

SPLIIATTTESHH.

“AAII! MALIK!”

Letting loose into feral
laughter, said future convict grabbed Ryou’s wrist and dragged him out of the
house frenziedly.

“What did you do?!” Ryou
cried as they reached Malik’s motorcycle.

Malik turned a quick look
over his shoulder. “Set up a volcano bomb in my dinner.”

“Why?!”

Malik shrugged. “I’ve done
that since I moved in with her, but she’s never triggered it before. She seems
to think it’s clever to put food dye or hot sauce in my food.” He grinned. “Not
that she ever finds my food. There’s another refrigerator in the
basement…but she doesn’t know that….”

Ryou rolled his eyes as he
was pulled onto the bike. “That doesn’t sound like Isis,” he commented
skeptically.

“So I might have done one
or two things to make her angry….”

As the bike’s engine
growled to life, Isis Ishtar stormed from the ajar front door cloaked in pasta
and unidentified vegetables. She was screaming now, but neither Malik nor Ryou
could hear over the pulsing rumble of the glimmering motorcycle. Then a
misshapen puddle of egg yolk and verdant pulp wi tai tail of celery plodded
straight into Isis’ ankle, apparently blinded by a rather large sprig of
broccoli.

To avoid future
confrontation with Isis, Ryou turned his head and muffled his laughter in
Malik’s shoulder. “What exactly did you make that bomb out of?” he shouted to
his koi.

“Nothing special,” Malik
yelled back, heaving away from his and Isis’ block. As they swerved ‘round the
corner, Ryou thought he heard Malik’s voice cackle, “Besides a few quarts of
vinegar and baking soda….”

To be Continued…

1 - According to the manga
(which I’m using as a guideline), Ryou is a transfer to Domino from another
city in Japan. Only in the American dub is he British. I just decided to
give him ties to England by having his mother go to college at Cambridge.

2 - Not that anyone finds
it anything but adorable, of course…. ;)

3 - Moshi moshi (Hello?)
{used on the phone}

4 - Good afternoon

5 - Hai (yes)

6 - Tabibito (wanderer)

7 - Think The Shining

8 - Chotto ja (see you in
a moment)

9 - Itsumo (always)

10 - Once again, not real
ancient Egyptian. Just made it up.

11 - Yume no Neko (Cat’s
Dream)

12 - Going by the
manga…where Yami no Yugi ain’t exactly the picture of sweetness and sanity.

13 - Mou hitori no boku
(the other me) - what Yugi called Yami no Yugi in the original.

14 - Which are a few lovely
ingredients of homemade volcanoes. Hehe.