The food was
good, a little too spicy for Yuugi and Anzu, but it didn’t
satisfy their curiosity. Mahaado didn’t seem to be willing to
talk about anything during the meal, so it went by in relative silence.
Mana passed the carafe of water, refilling when it was necessary - the
twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement - and served tea and thick
biscuits after she cleared the plates. Anzu wanted to help but Mana
protested, saying that it wasn’t necessary. Yuugi
wasn’t used to have tea directly after lunch, but he accepted
the hot cup and inhaled the scent.
“You
speak Japanese very well,” he complimented as Mana
straigtened herself and walked over to Mahaado to give him his cup. She
looked over her shoulder, smiling brilliantly. It was obvious they
weren’t from here – their dark skin, their eyes,
the strange markings below it.
“Thank
you, Prince!” She said. “We didn’t need
to learn the language, though! We pick up every language very easily.
It’s just like our clothes; we can make them look like
anything we want so we don’t stand out, even though the real
clothes don’t change…”
“Apprentice,”
Mahaado interrupted her again. She looked a little annoyed this time,
but bit her lip and remained silent. He wrapped his fingers around the
cup and looked at Yuugi.
“Prince,
I once again offer you my apologies,” he said, taking a sip.
“We acted a little rash, but we could not take the risk of
you being hit by that machine.”
“The
car, yes,” Yuugi said. “I have to thank you for
saving me…”
“You
do not need to thank me,” Mahaado said and his eyes went to
the Puzzle, dangling from Yuugi’s neck. “It is my
honor and my duty to watch over the Prince’s life.”
“My
name is Yuugi,” he insisted. “Please tell me why
you keep calling me Prince. It makes me feel...uncomfortable.”
“You’ve
always been the one to see no difference in rank or status,”
Mana said, and she laughed softly. “Modest and kind, gentle
to the bone. The light in many lives, a good friend to all.”
“It
is because of your Puzzle, Prince,” Mahaado continued,
leaving Yuugi to ponder Mana’s words. “That
signifies that you were the one to solve it, after so many centuries.
You are the wielder of its powers, the guardian of right, keeper of the
shadow games.”
“I…”
Yuugi started.
“When
you solved it, the power of the Pharaoh was released and you inherited
his soul,” Mahaado said, looking over the rim of his cup.
“Tell me, Prince, Mutou Yuugi, about that other soul, that
other person, your Other.”
“How
do you know?” Yuugi asked, his hands protectively cupping the
Puzzle. Anxious, he pressed the Item against his stomach. Mou
hitori no boku.
They kept referring to him as a Prince, so by Pharaoh…they
had to mean…his Other. They can’t take
you away from me…he felt tired, the food
satisfying his stomach and pleasantly warming him. His headache
hadn’t gone yet, but he forced himself to ignore the
pounding. It was so tempting…
“What
is the meaning of this?”
Both Mahaado
and Mana jumped up as if they were stung, throwing their seats
backwards. Even Anzu jumped up, never having experienced the
transformation from this close. She almost yelped, realizing at the
last second that he was her friend too - she had
nothing to fear. Anzu sat down quickly again, smiling a little
sheepishly at Other Yuugi; he was definitely different from Yuugi. He
had crossed his arms in front of his chest, sitting upright, posture
far more confident and rigid than Yuugi’s. His crimson red
eyes sternly looked at the other two in the room who stared at him,
both their mouths open.
“Pha…Pharaoh!”
Anzu’s
eyes went wide as she saw Mahaado kneeling, sinking to the floor,
gathering his robes around him as he went down, bowing his head. Mana
looked at Other Yuugi with tears in her eyes, her face wearing a
strange mixture of joy and grief, and she all but fell to the floor to
kneel in a similar manner.
“The
Gods be praised,” Mahaado whispered, his gaze still averted.
“We have found you. This world shall live.”
Timeline
I, Khemet
The servants
bowed to her in passing, but Mana barely paid attention to them. Her
robes flapped around her ankles, the long sleeves covering her hands,
her slender fingers curled into fists. The only jewelry she possessed
was the golden belt, studded with lapis lazuli and ruby gemstones,
holding the fabric. It had been a gift from the Pharaoh - Atemu - and
every time she clasped it around her waist, it made her heart jump for
joy, and plummet into an abyss the second later. It would
never be the same again, would it?
“Mana,
where have you been?”
She lifted her
chin, taking the hood over her dark brown hair down, freeing the long
strands from the confinement.
“Priest
Akunadin,” she said politely, looking him straight in the
eye, pretending his left one was a normal eye, not a golden ball.
“How does this morning find you?”
“Quiet
for now,” he answered, his voice slightly raspy. She had no
idea about the man’s age; she barely interacted with him in
the first place, despite having the same function as a Priest. Akunadin
was the one keeping him in the background, observing, oh so sharply
observing – and drawing his own conclusions, plotting to use
his findings to his own benefit. She could never think
anything else of Akunadin but that he was constantly scheming
something, crafting a conspiracy to overthrow the Pharaoh and have his
own son ascend to the throne. It made her feel rather uncomfortable in
his presence, as he had never showed any sign of sympathy or compassion
– but it wasn’t her place to doubt the man. They
had to form a unity of advisors and counselors, not to doubt each
other. She quirked her eyebrows at his answer, but he didn’t
elaborate. Instead, he walked along with her, his plain robe at
ankle-length swishing through the air. A few guards passed them, spears
in hand, and she unconsciously shivered, reminded of the thief
sentenced to death.
Akunadin was
about to say something when they approached the familiar large doors of
the Throne Room, the four guards outside staring at them with
expressionless faces. One of the guards turned around to open the
doors, and…
“It
is unheard of!”
Both Mana and
Akunadin exchanged surprised glances, unable to maintain their usual,
neutral look. In the middle of the Throne Room, Set and Atemu were
bickering, standing opposite of each other.
“My
Pharaoh,” Set said out loud, his deep voice easily heard in
even the farthest corners of the room, “I admit that it
is…unusual, but it certainly is not unheard
of…”
Aishizu was
sitting in a kneeled position, hands in her lap, fingers laced
together. Her eyes were closed – either she was in prayer, a
trance, or very deep in thought. Mana assumed it was the latter, as
praying in the Throne Room like this was very much out of place, and
she wasn’t in a trance as her Sennen Tauk wasn’t
glowing.
Shaadah and
Karim looked as if they had been scolded; both wore an unhappy grimace,
eyes unreadable. It was something between the Pharaoh and Set
– Mana could see they both were angry, though Set had managed
to hide it better than Atemu.
“Where
have you been?” The Pharaoh barked as
soon as he saw Mana and the elderly priest.
Akunadin bowed
immediately. “Forgive me, my Pharaoh, we were held up along
the way,” he said. Mana bowed as well, inwardly surprised
that Akunadin would even think of standing up for her.
“You
are late! Do not let it happen again!” he bellowed.
“My cousin here has placed me in a terribly inconvenient
position, and you slack off around the hallways!”
Mana cringed.
Atemu never referred to Set as his cousin unless he was really unhappy,
but she didn’t need the tone or sound of his voice to
determine that. The Pharaoh was all but red in the face – it
would’ve been funny and something to tease him about if he
weren’t the Pharaoh, able to condemn them all to death in a
heartbeat.
“My
Pharaoh,” Mana started, relieved that her voice was soothing,
exactly the way she intended it. “Will you please tell us
what is wrong, so we can assert this situation and be of any help to
you with our advice?”
He snorted.
“What is wrong? Wrong? The woman is
wrong, that is what wrong!”
Confused, Mana
looked at Set. He had drawn his lips into a tight line, drawing all the
blood out of them.
“Kisara
is not ‘the woman’, and she is not
wrong,” he said, tucking the Sennen Rod in the crook of his
elbow absent-mindedly.
Kisara,
Kisara…Mana remembered her: she was the extremely pale,
white-haired, blue-eyed girl who’d been saved from being
stoned in public. It was during a regular inspection of the city when
Set, together with Shaadah, had stumbled upon the girl, dehydrated and
exhausted. The citizens had been throwing rocks at her, terrified by
her appearance. Mana had seen her briefly, when she was called for her
healing abilities – there was not much she could do but have
the girl have plenty of rest and take care of her dehydration. She had
healed the cuts and bruises, and Kisara had been too exhausted to even
muster up the strength to thank her. The Priestess could recall her
pale skin and those startling blue eyes before they were closed. It was
a certain beauty, yes, but so…completely different. No
wonder the locals were terrified of her.
“She
can’t be judged on the color of her skin,” Mana
said. “She can’t help the way she
looks…”
“She
should not be here,” Atemu said, cutting her off.
“She is like a white demon, infesting our society, corrupting
my Court!”
Mana still
didn’t see the connection, and felt hopelessly inadequate. Master...!
You could’ve calmed him down with a few words…
“My
son has every right to see the woman he has set his eye
upon,” Akunadin spoke up, and a wave of gasps rippled through
the Priests. Even Aishizu opened her eyes. The elderly Priest never
referred to Set as his son in public – neutrality had always
been the preferred course of action. The majority of them had crafted
neutrality into perfection; after the initial shock, everyone bore the
same, set-in-stone expression again. Except for Mana.
“Set
has every right to see the woman he likes,” she said, looking
incredulously at Atemu. He was still red in the face, and her eyes went
down to the Sennen Puzzle, moving with every heave of his chest. That
cursed Item. She was so sure that because of the Puzzle,
Atemu’s mind was blackened and hardened. The Pharaoh she knew
and grew up with would’ve rejoiced for Set to have found
someone he liked.
“Thank
you, but I can speak for myself.” Set straightened himself,
using his height to his advantage, towering over the Pharaoh. Atemu
didn’t step back; instead he looked up, eyes narrowing.
“I
will not have you associating yourself with a woman from outside our
borders,” he spat. “We do not know anything about
her background, she could very well present a danger to all of us
– she is already tearing this Court apart!”
“The
only one tearing this Court apart is you,”
Set spat back. “You are the one having a problem with this!
No one objects to her being here but you. We have an obligation of
hospitality…”
“To
our own people,” Atemu interrupted him
rudely. “The whole town was over her, about to stone her out
of fear. What effect do you think it will have if the girl continues to
stay here? How will people think of their Pharaoh if he welcomes a
white demon at his Court?”
“The
people will still think that you’re their God,”
Akunadin spoke up again. “She’s not a white demon,
my Pharaoh. She’s a fragile girl who had the misfortune to be
born with exceptionally pale skin, and with white hair and blue eyes to
boot. Why are we even discussing this? I doubt she represents any kind
of danger.”
“Are
you objecting?” Atemu turned around, shifting his gaze from
father to son. “Are you objecting to my words? This Kisara
girl is not one of ours, and she will strike fear and unrest into our
people. They were not about to stone her for nothing!”
“She
is my responsibility,” Set cut in. “I will take
everything regarding Kisara upon my shoulders, and I will not stand for
anyone abusing her, mistreating her, or speaking ill about
her.”
He pointedly
looked at Atemu, who still focused his attention on Akunadin.
“My
son is taking every responsibility regarding to the girl,” he
said. “We can either announce to the people that the great
Pharaoh was as kind as to take her in under his roof, reminding the
commoners that hospitality is a virtue, or we can remain silent and
bleed this issue to death. This does not warrant the commotion you are
causing about it, my Pharaoh.”
Mana was glad
that Akunadin was speaking up, but she noticed Atemu’s frown
and his pursed lips, knowing that he was about to erupt.
“I
will not have any of it,” he said, turning around and
stalking towards his throne. “I have a Syrian delegate here
who will hear of this, simply because there are already rumors going
around about the girl. I will not have any of these rumors spread
outside the country, and I will not have any other heads of state think
that I am weak and kind as if to give anyone food and shelter! I will
do so for my own people, but not for strangers with an unknown
background! Khemet will be strong and fierce, not weak and carefully
tiptoeing around!”
“She
is not a demon, she is not dangerous!” Set exclaimed. Karim
almost cringed, not used to his fellow Priest raising his voice like
this.
“She
already has you in your grasp,” Atemu hissed. “Look
at how you are reacting! You have never been this adamant in defending
someone, and certainly not a girl.”
“My
Pharaoh…” Akunadin started, as Set took a step
towards Atemu.
“Enough!”
He sat down on his throne, moving his arms to cross them in front of
his chest. “I will not have this woman in the Palace. She can
be moved to the servants’ quarters, and I do not want to hear
one word about her! Set, you will have all the
responsibility – if something strange happens due to all of
this, it is your head that is going to roll.”
“My
Pharaoh...!” Akunadin protested, but quickly shut his mouth
after one look from Atemu.
“We
will continue with the Court,” he said. “Unless
anyone else has strange, pale floozies hanging on their arms? No? Fine.
Proceed!”
Mana was sure
she could hear Set grinding his teeth all the way from here, and she
quickly moved to stand behind Aishizu. Being close to the other woman
always allowed her to draw some strength, and hopefully today the Court
session would be without any thieves being sentences to death. She
tried to catch Aishizu’s attention again, and the Priestess
showed a soft, all-knowing smile. Mana hadn’t talked to her
about Atemu’s apparent change; she assumed Aishizu simply
wouldn’t have noticed much because she didn’t know
the Pharaoh that well as she did.
Heaving a soft
sigh, she noticed Karim carrying a daunting load of scrolls, and she
almost groaned at the thought that all of them had to be read out loud
and listened to it. Half of these cases could be summarized very well,
but Atemu insisted on listening to every detail – and truth
be told, he had an excellent memory and knew to immediately spot any
discrepancies and mistakes. As he picked up the first scroll, Karim
send an apologetic smile to Mana and she couldn’t help but
smiling back – he was a kind man, disgusted by
Atemu’s earlier accusations and rude remarks. She was sure
she could trust him, but she preferred to keep her own doubts of Atemu
to herself; maybe one day she could talk about it, but not now. In
time, she would be able to bring the old Atemu back, she was sure of
it…and with surprisingly firm determination, she squelched
every doubt about it. He will come back.
The servants
had set the large table for lunch; Set and Akunadin had immediately
excused themselves and left the Throne Room before Atemu himself was
able to protest. Usually they all had lunch together, an excellent
opportunity to socialize and talk about mundane, less burdened things
than state affairs and the threats of war.
Mana walked
next to Atemu as he went to the large table, the servants bowing as
they finished putting the last of the dishes on. She saw the still
warm, fresh loaves of bread, grilled fish, lots of fruit –
dates and figs - jars of honey, some poultry in a sauce she
couldn’t identify yet and warm vegetables. All the Priests
took their own seat, waiting of course for their Pharaoh to be seated
first.
The atmosphere
was shot, despite the dancers and the few musicians in the corner who
were trying their best to alleviate the tension. Atemu didn’t
pay attention to them, stirring with his fork over his plate until he
all but mushed his food.
Mana took pity
on him. It’s not his fault. It’s the
Darkness inside the Puzzle. Master knew about it…Gently,
she reached for his wrist, placing her fingers on the golden bracelets.
“My
Pharaoh, you’re not eating,” she admonished, though
very, very carefully. “Our ruler can’t afford to
faint during the afternoon reports. It’s really delicious,
please try some.”
He pursed his
lips a little, spearing a vegetable with his fork and eating it. Mana
smiled at him encouragingly. For a moment, he looked just his younger
self again, always moping and fussing when eating vegetables.
Maybe all he
needed was distraction. Not their activities in bed, which gave her
still mixed feelings, but maybe a more permanent distraction. She knew
she didn’t need to entertain the idea of becoming his wife.
Not only wouldn’t it be accepted of a Priestess to get
married, she had no illusions – only a very faint hope
– that he would prefer simple, mundane Mana over the exotic
princesses and women who threw themselves at his feet. He could choose
from the most beautiful women; she didn’t stand a chance. A
wife, a child…it would absorb his attention, take away the
sharp edges of his life. Her hand went to her own belly, rubbing over
it once. She knew of certain herbs that could…help her. An
heir would please him, she was sure of it, very sure.
“My
Pharaoh…” she started, but at the same moment a
servant girl took away her empty plate, bumping into her shoulder.
Mana’s eyes went wide as soon as the girl touched her,
gasping out loud.
“Priestess…!
My apologies,” the girl whispered, almost dropping the plate.
Atemu’s fingers tightened around his goblet, and he
would’ve thrown it towards her if it wasn’t for
Mana quickly pushing his wrist down. To her own amazement, he allowed
her to do so, and she looked up at the girl…and she looked
into a mirror.
She
was looking down at herself. She
was staring up at herself. Mana opened her mouth, but words eluded her.
“Mana,”
Atemu said. “Are you all right?”
“Mana?”
Shaadah, sitting opposite of her, worriedly put his own utensils down,
eying her quizzically.
“I’m
fine, really, it was my fault,” she said, as the girl bowed
for her and moved away with the empty plate. Confused, Mana stared at
her own goblet. A masking spell.
Someone in the Palace with knowledge of heka, and
using it to mask her true face. Mana had seen right through the spell,
looking at her own face. That couldn’t be possible
– how could there be another person, looking exactly the same
as she?
“Mana,”
Atemu repeated her name. “You look like you have seen a
demon.”
“I…
I haven’t, great Pharaoh,” she mumbled. Her hand
was still on his wrist, her mind faintly rejoicing that he
hadn’t rebuked her.
As the
servants walked around to provide everyone with new plates and
utensils, Mana kept an eye on them, but she didn’t see her
look-alike anymore. Maybe she had worked too hard…? She had
a lot of administrative tasks, and people called upon her constantly
for healing and medicinal assistance. Nervously, she tried to eat
something of her dessert, but she didn’t taste any of it.
Mana tried to focus back on Atemu, who seemed to like the dessert
drenched in sweet honey, but it was the only thing he really ate. He
still didn’t mind her hand on his wrist, ignoring the glances
of the other Priests; though it wasn’t really a secret that
he slept with Mana, it wasn’t announced all over the Palace
either. She withdrew her hand, unfazed on the outside that he
didn’t say a thing about it, but at the moment she was more
occupied with the strange servant girl than his quirks. She wanted to
excuse herself from the table, but her own fear nailed her to her seat
– she didn’t really want to think who could bring
about to walk around the Palace disguising herself…with her
face.
The afternoon
meal ended in silence. Mana stood up from her chair, bowing
towards Atemu and excusing herself. She immediately walked away from
the table, leaving the others behind. She knew Atemu would probably
visit her later on the day, probably angry about her sudden departure
from the table, but she couldn’t care less at the moment. Not
even her Pharaoh could keep her away from solving this riddle.
It still hurt
her, every day, how he had changed, and how he could get angry over a
silly little thing like a woman’s skin color. What he had
said in the Throne Room, to his own cousin…it was horrible,
and no one was able to calm him down with just a few words like her
Master had been able to, or Shimon. Maybe if he had been
there…but the vizier had been ill and weak for quite a while
now, and Atemu had discharged him from his services, the last honorable
thing he had done to allow the man to spend the last days of his life
in peace and good care. Atemu had never accepted a new vizier, and many
had expected him to promote Set – the hallways of the Royal
Palace had been buzzing with exciting rumors. In the end, neither Set
nor any other Priest was promoted, and Atemu had never talked about
appointing a new one.
Mana searched
through the hallways, knowing her goal. Now that she knew about it, she
could trace the heka that had been used. She
hadn’t forgotten any of Mahaado’s lessons, and her
skill to recognize the magic had never been her forte, but from so
close…? It was as if she had been slapped in the face. Why
would anyone mask her face, what was her intention? Determined, Mana
searched further, until the trail lead her towards her own bedroom. The
audacity! Quickly, she opened the door and gasped for breath
when she saw the girl standing by her bed.
“Who
are you!” She barked, spells running through her mind. She
was able to defend herself, and she wouldn’t hesitate to
throw a fireball at the other…her breathing hitched when she
noticed the girl picking up the covers from her bed, gently smelling
the fabric. Mana blushed furiously; housekeeping obviously
hadn’t had the time yet to change the linens.
“Just
like I remember,” the other spoke, with exactly her voice.
“Only I…have never been that
close to him. I was just a kid. You really love him, don’t
you?”
“What
do you mean? Who are you?” Mana came closer, hesitantly. Fear
and unrest started to stir in her stomach; an ominous feeling of bad
news, waiting to be told.
“Who
I am? Don’t you recognize yourself?” She pulled the
hood of her cloak down. Most servants wore simple shentis, never with a
cloak – her masking spell was really strong if she had been
able to hide all her original clothing as well, as nobody had made any
comment about it.
“Your
heka is…”
“Familiar,
right?” The girl put back the covers, her hand gently
caressing the surface. “It’s yours, Mana. I thought
you recognized it sooner, and I had to get close to you to make my
presence known.”
“For
what? Why are you here?”
“So
many questions, so little time to explain,” the other Mana
said. She looked at the bed, obviously slept-in.
“Yes,
I love him,” Mana admitted, vaguely wondering why she was
speaking about it now. The Mana close to the bed allowed herself to
smile, but it was a saddened, small smile.
“It’s
good that you do,” she said. “Because he has to
die, and you will be the one watching him do so.”
Timeline
II, Alternate Universe: Domino City, Japan
Jounouchi
hopped over the threshold of the class room, swaggering towards his
desk. He was pretty early, early enough to miss Honda on his way to
school. Oh well, his friend would arrive sooner or later - they only
walked up together when they had the chance, not by some kind of
agreement. Dumping his book bag on the desk, Jounouchi’s eyes
darted towards the single desk at the back of the class. He snorted. He
had no reason to be thinking of Mutou Yuugi; the kid had left school
ages ago. He was always keeping to himself, him and his stupid games.
Jounouchi’s standard grin widened a little. Yuugi had been easy to pick on, especially when he started bringing some golden box to school, which he called his ‘own treasure’. The idea of bringing a treasure box to school made Jounouchi almost howl with laughter. Who in his right mind would be such a girl, swooning over a gaudy box with some kind of puzzle pieces inside? He took out a few of his text books. Only once had he been able to take a sneak peek at that supposedly treasure box, and he’d been fast enough to swipe one of the pieces; he’d thrown that one in the school’s swimming pool, amused at the thought of the look on Yuugi’s face when he was about to finish his precious puzzle and noticing that he was one piece short.
Jounouchi
shrugged as he plopped down. It wasn’t short after that
particular incident that the Mutou kid had left school, mumbling
something about helping his grandfather in his Game Shop. Jounouchi
couldn’t care less and had been rather unfazed by
Anzu’s prying, scathing death-glares. She’d been
Yuugi’s friend all along, standing up for him - but Jounouchi
was too much of a bully to understand the girl’s feelings
about it.
Other students
came in, ignoring him for the most part. Jounouchi didn’t
care about that either; he didn’t want that much contact with
his peers either, and he had more important things to think about. Like
his younger sister going steady with the town’s playboy,
Otogi Ryuuji. The guy had his own gaming company, so he had money -
which was a good thing, so he could at least support Shizuka and buy
her pretty things. Pretty things she couldn’t
see…he scowled. Jounouchi, you moron.
“Hey,
Jounouchi!”
“Morning,
Honda,” he said and shoved his seat backwards to put his feet
on his desk.
“Everything
okay?”
“Hey,
more than okay,” Honda grinned. “We don’t
have any PE-lessons for the rest of the semester!”
“What?”
Jounouchi sat up, eyes widened. Contrary to a lot of students, he liked
PE; but then again, he liked being physically active far more than
abusing his brains in class.
“Yeah,
something happened to Karita-sensei,” Honda shrugged, opening
his book bag.
“Apparently,
he fell ill overnight and they had to rush him to the hospital.
He’s in a coma, the loser.”
“Honda-san,
don’t say such bad things about Karita-sensei,”
Miho admonished him, her high-pitched voice grating on
Jounouchi’s nerves. He couldn’t see why Honda liked
the girl so much in the first place - she simply looked and acted like
a ditz to him.
“Of
course not, Miho-chan! I was just telling Jounouchi how bad it is, the
poor guy,” Honda cooed and Jounouchi snorted, leaving his
feet on top of his desk, hands folding behind his head.
“Good
morning everyone,” a soft voice floated towards them.
Jounouchi didn’t even look up, already knowing it had to be
Bakura. The boy gently pulled his seat backwards, barely making a sound
and not commenting on Jounouchi’s left leg slung over his
desk.
“Heh,
you must be particularly having a good morning, Bakura,” he
said rudely. The other looked up, confusion written over his pale face.
“Excuse
me?”
“Karita
is dead.”
“Wh-what?”
“Jounouchi-kun!”
Miho gasped, her eyes wide in horror. “Don’t talk
like that!”
Bakura seemed
to pale even more, if that were possible - the shock draining all blood
out of his face.
“Wh…that
can’t be…Karita-sensei?”
The PE-teacher
wasn’t very popular at school, especially because he liked to
pick on the physically weak. Neither Jounouchi nor Honda had any
problems with the man, but small, slender-built boys like Bakura were
automatically his target. Bakura had had a personal encounter with the
man, who had tugged at his hair and ridiculed his effeminate looks and
long locks. Karita had demanded a buzz cut in the morning, and Bakura
had tried to avoid the large, burly man as he didn’t want to
comply with the ‘request’ - but now his problem
seemed to be solved, no matter how grave the situation was.
“He’s
at the hospital, in a coma,” Honda added. “He fell
ill yesterday, but nobody really knows what exactly has happened.
Bakura sat
down, all but gasping for air. “A…a
coma…oh no…”
Jounouchi
threw him a quizzical look. Bakura looked upset, but not…that
upset. As if he accepted the news without further ado, acquiescing
immediately.
“This
whole town’s going to hell,” he suddenly said,
leaning backwards in his chair again, rearranging his large feet on the
desk. “You all have heard the news about the escaped convict
and his hostage, right?”
Miho nodded,
eyes still wide, as a deer looking into headlights. There had been
nothing else on TV but reports about the prisoner who held a girl
hostage at a hamburger restaurant. He managed to escape after a few
hours, but his hostage and a few witnesses ended up dead. Just like
yesterday, the students were urged to go home immediately after school,
instead of loitering around. Honda sat down as well, turning his chair
to face the others.
“Hey,
Mazaki’s still not around?”
“She’ll
show up,” Jounouchi said, dismissing the girl the next second
from his thoughts. “An escaped convict, and yesterday, when I
was with Shizuka, I was being followed! This town’s going to
hell, I tell you.”
“Followed?”
Miho repeated, frightened.
Jounouchi
nodded. “All the way during the bus ride to
Shizuka’s school…when I picked her up for lunch,
we were being followed. All the way.”
“Did
you see who it was?” Honda asked, tone of voice growling. If
something happened to Shizuka or his best friend, he would be all too
pleased to set things straight with his fists.
“Not
a clue. That was the strangest part.”
“What
do you mean?” Bakura asked softly, his fingers resting on the
small stack of textbooks in front of him.
“Well,
I looked a few times behind me, and every time there was someone I was
very sure of who wasn’t there before. I knew there was an old
man behind me, for example…and when I looked around, there
was this business chick in high heels.”
“Sounds
to me you have a very lively imagination,” Honda snorted.
“You sure you didn’t smoke anything
lately?”
“Not
when I’m going out with my sister, you moron,”
Jounouchi retorted, throwing his pencil to Honda. Some other students
looked up, but quickly looked away again when they saw it was Jounouchi
raising his voice.
Nagobana,
their teacher, entered the class room and shut the door. All the
students ceased talking and rose from their chairs to politely greet
their sensei.
“Sit,”
Nagobana said, and it was clear the man was in a different mood than
usual. Jounouchi sat down just like anyone else, refraining from
flinging his feet on his desk this time. Nagobana didn’t take
out papers or books from his large bag, instead remained standing next
to his desk.
“Class,
you have all heard of the escaped convict,” he said.
“We have issued the rule for all of our students to go home
immediately after class because of this man roaming the
streets.”
“Unfortunately,
he has struck again, holding a hostage to provide for his own escape.
This morning, the police prefect has released details of the hostage -
not to the public, but to the family of the victim…but
because she was a student of our school, it affects us as well. Class,
Mazaki Anzu was brutally killed by this despicable man.”
A collective
gasp went through the class, Miho immediately crying. Everyone looked
at each other baffled and abhorred - even Jounouchi and Honda were
aghast. Anzu? Anzu, from their class? The pushy, tomboyish girl who
seemed to get along with everyone…?
“I
can’t believe it,” Honda said. Bakura looked gray
instead of pale this time, fingers clenching at his books, almost
tearing the paper.
Jounouchi was dumbfounded. Not in a million years had he expect Anzu to die right now, at the hands of a convict, in a hamburger restaurant. What was she doing there in the first place?
Even though he
didn’t care much for the girl, he wasn’t as
heartless as to not feel sorrow and grief; he would never wish this
kind of fate upon anyone.
Chapter 4 | Chapter 6