Ningen

Summary: (Prequel to Ningyo) Bakura, a corrupt physician, finds himself drawn to one of the servers from a popular cafe, the sweet yet stubborn Malik. However, a violent murder sets off a series of events that cause their lives to slowly unravel.

Rated: T

Genre: Romance/Drama

Author’s Note: The last parts of this chapter crosses with the opening scene of chapter 4 in Ningyo, so I’ll just wait right here while you reread it.

Done? Cool. Enjoy then.

Disclaimer: Yuugiou and all related characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi.

-

3 – Beauty’s Second Face

Mariku shivered, cursing audibly as he felt around for the blanket that Malik had, once again, stolen from him overnight. However, instead of plush bedding, his hand met hardwood, icy hardwood to be exact. Opening his plum eyes blearily, he was met with the fuzzy sight of four ornate legs belonging to the king-sized bed he and Malik had been sharing over the past year. The blonde was then hit with a teeth splitting migraine and a soreness in his lower abdomen. Mariku rolled onto his back and glared at the ceiling angrily, finally realizing that, somehow, he had fallen out of bed.

He stumbled onto his feet, grasping the railing of the balcony that overlooked the lower level for support. Malik was still wrapped comfortably in their large comforter, a peaceful expression on his face. He had forgotten to wash off his eyeliner the night before, so there were smudges of it around his eyes, leading him to look part raccoon.

“Oh honey?”

The smaller blonde whimpered in response, hiding his head under a pillow.

Mariku ‘hmphed’ and promptly shoved him onto the floor, a loud shriek and dull thud following the action. He jumped onto the bed and peeked over the other side curiously, watching as Malik tried to wriggle his way out of the tangled cloth.

“That’s what you get for kicking me out of bed,” the larger blonde said moodily.

“How the hell, omph, could I possibly kick you out of bed? I’m like half your size!”

“How else would I have ended up on the floor?”

“I don’t know, maybe you fell?” Malik growled, wrestling off the blanket. “You obviously didn’t mind too much, you slept through the whole thing!”

“Yeah, but now my back is killing me!”

“What, you want me to kick it back into alignment?”

“If you wouldn’t mind...”

Malik laughed and tossed the comforter back onto the bed.

“Maybe tonight.”

“Ooh. Suggestive.”

“Not really. It could just mean I plan to kick your pillow stealing ass out of bed again.”

“I guess that’s the closest thing to a confession I’m going to get out of you,” Mariku smirked. “Breakfast?”

“Eh, I’m actually not that hungry,” the other blonde shrugged, rubbing his non-existent belly.

“Good, ‘cause all we have right now are those cookies and a few cans of beer.” He paused. “Sounds decent enough.”

“No, that’s okay...”

“Your call,” Mariku yawned, stretching his arms. “I think I’m gonna take a shower before I head out. Want to join me?”

“No, that’s okay,” Malik repeated, pulling a face as his housemate descended the stairs.

“Last chance!”

The smaller blonde smiled despite his frustration, shoulders drooping. “Maybe one day I’ll say yes.” He said quietly, beginning to fold the sheets.

It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable around Mariku; they shared the same bed after all, and there were a few nights when the two of them did more than just sleep. But there was something about the water in particular that unnerved him. He wasn’t afraid of water (that would make showering in general very difficult), rather afraid of how it would fall on his skin, his back in particular.

There were certain things, Malik thought, that were made more apparent under a glossy coat of liquid.

He sighed heavily, falling backwards onto the freshly made bed.

‘I should really clean out some of those skeletons...’

He closed his eyes, basking in the late autumn sun. The air smelled wet, meaning it would probably rain later that day. He’d have to bring a jacket. Other than the incoming drizzle and his extremely rude awakening, the morning had gone by rather peacefully, the calming silence broken only by a loud, high-pitched chirping.

Annoyed, Malik looked to the direction of the noise, searching for whatever was responsible for interrupting his musings. He was surprised to find a small nest perched humbly outside their bedroom window containing a pudgy mother robin tending to her two flesh colored, alien looking babies. She busied herself with tucking in more leaves here and there and throwing up...something into their open mouths. Yet they continued to cry their shrill demands, waving their frail limbs impatiently, asking for more. Judging by their appearance, Malik guessed that they had only just hatched. They weren’t the cutest things at the in the world, but there was something very endearing about the scene.

After twitching around for a bit, the robin fluffed her feathers and took off, probably in search of more insects to vomit down her chicks’ throats. Malik sat up and wandered toward the window, fixated on the squirming pink life forms; so helpless and pathetic, completely useless the way they were now. And yet their mother still dedicated every waking moment of her life to raising them. How...

...infuriating.

The slender blonde looked over his shoulder before pulling up the glass pane, the baby robins twittering directly under his nose. He looked at them curiously, his gaze shifting to the empty sidewalk three stories below them. A smirk pulled at his lips. After making sure that Mariku still hadn’t emerged from the shower, Malik extended a finger and gently nudged the occupied cradle, slowly guiding it closer to the edge. The chicks’ cries seemed to intensify as they were being moved, like they knew exactly what was happening to them. Finally, without a second of hesitation, Malik gave them one last push.

Lilac eyes watched with a sick amusement as the nest toppled off the edge of his windowsill, the two naked chicks continuing to call for their mother, hoping she would swoop down and rescue them from imminent death. There was a faint ‘poof’ as the mass of twigs and leaves hit the sidewalk; it wasn’t a satisfying ‘crunch’ like he was hoping for, but it was something.

And at least the chirping had stopped.

Shortly after, the plump robin returned, a reddish-brown worm twisting grotesquely in her beak. She cocked her head from side to side, hopping around the spot where her offspring had once been. Malik smiled at her, a gesture that was both sympathetic and cruel. The bird flapped her wings in frustration, circling the same area over and over, trying to figure out if she had landed on the wrong windowsill. He wondered when, if ever, she would realize that the pile of woven sticks lying below hid the bodies of her broken babies. Round and round the bird danced, black eyes scanning the area for any sign of the nest. The determination of such a small animal was absolutely fascinating to him; he had thought she would have given up by now.

His ignorance towards the bird’s actions was completely understandable. The devotion of a parent to its child was something Malik had never fully understood...or experienced.

“Shoo!” the blonde snapped, waving her away.

“Hey Malik!” Mariku called from downstairs. “I’m going to go to the supermarket; you want me to drop you off?”

He watched the bird fly a short distance before it turned around and landed on the ledge yet again, dropping the worm to chirp to her dead chicks.

“Malik? Are you up there?”

“Yeah, I’m going to get ready!”

“Hurry up!”

The svelte blonde hummed a cheery tune while he cleaned himself up, removing the offending smears from under his eyes before tracing cleaner, darker lines around them. There were two oddly shaped marks under each of his pale irises that would never wash away; they didn’t draw too much attention, as they looked like regular tattoos, but they served as a constant reminder for something the twenty-one year old would rather forget.

After putting on a pair of jeans that matched his favorite black jacket, Malik grabbed a spare cafe uniform and stuffed it into his backpack, already anticipating an hour long lecture about the importance of coming to work in freshly ironed clothes. As he pulled on his boots (which had somehow found their way under the bed), a high pitched screech called his attention back to the window. The mother bird was now trying to make her way into the bedroom, her small claws scratching at the pane in a frantic attempt to reach the young man who killed her babies.

“Malik!”

“I’m coming!” he yelled back. The blonde shot what would seem to be an apologetic look to the distressed parent, however his lilac eyes were devoid of any pity.

“Sorry Mama.”

“The motorcycle’s been running for five minutes!”

“Well then turn it off stupid!” Malik growled, descending the stairs.

“Took you long enough,” Mariku snorted as soon as his companion came into view. “What were you doing up there? Ironing?”

“You’re funny,” the other replied sarcastically.

“Did you want anything from the store?”

“Food.”

“Specifically?” Mariku ground out.

“Strawberries?” Malik said hopefully.

“Ugh. That’s so disgustingly cute.”

“I’m sorry,” the smaller blonde sighed, zipping up his jacket. “I mean, PINEAPPLE. That’s a nice manly fruit, right?”

“I think ‘manly fruit’ is an oxymoron, isn’t it?”

“Maybe?”

“Stop answering my questions with questions!”

“Yes sir,” Malik smirked. “Oh! What did you want for dinner? I’m going to the hospital today, remember?”

“We’ll talk about it on the way there,” Mariku said disinterestedly, waving his keys in front of the other’s face. “You’re going to be late again.”

There was a sudden thud from the upper level, followed by a strangled chirp. The smaller blonde hid a frown.

That stupid bird.

“What the hell was that?” Mariku blinked.

“No idea,” Malik lied, clinging to the other man’s arm childishly. “Oh, make sure you bring a sweater or something, it looks like it’s going to rain.” He blushed at the other’s surprised expression. “D-Don’t look at me like that! I just didn’t want you to get sick, you know? Sheesh...”

-

An elderly woman with wrinkles as deep as some swimming pools began to cry profusely upon receiving the news that her dear husband of fifty some years had passed away earlier that morning after a long battle with leukemia. As she brought up her weathered hands to wipe away salty tears, her son, a very round, bearded man, hugged her closely, whispering encouraging words to his aged mother.

“I’m so sorry,” Bakura saw quietly, bowing his head. “We did everything we could to make sure he was as comfortable as possible.”

“He’s at peace,” she sobbed, burying her head into a flowered handkerchief. “At least I’ll be joining him soon.”

“Don’t say that mom; you’ve got a lot more years to live...”

‘Yeah, and I’m a brunette,’ the young doctor thought irritably, bringing a pale hand to his face. Using his thumb and forefinger he pressed onto his eyes with slight force, causing them to water. Only then did he raise his gaze to the mournful pair, ‘tears’ all too apparent.

“He was one of the kindest patients I’ve ever had the honor to work with,” he recited, shaking his head. “If you want, I can provide you with a list of memorial services around the area; it’s the least I could do.”

“Oh doctor...” the woman quivered.

“Your husband was a wonderful man Mrs. Williams, I’ll never forget...” he blanked. What was that geezer’s name? “Uh...h-him.”

“Paul always spoke so highly of you Dr. Kagami,” she said admiringly, moving to shake his hand. “I just know you were his one ray of sunshine in this horrible place.”

‘Ugh, the metaphors...’ Bakura mentally gagged.

“Last Monday, Dad told us to add you onto his will,” the son interrupted. “He said it would be his way of saying ‘thank you’ for all your hard work.” A sad smile. “He really appreciated everything you did for him.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” the younger man said automatically.

“No, no, it’s already been done,” came the firm reply. “Sixty-thousand from Dad’s life insurance is going straight to you.”

“Well...if...if you insist,” he said in fake surprise. “That’s so generous of you.”

“Not at all,” his mother replied. “You’re a wonderful man Dr. Kagami.”

The family of two said even more mind-numbingly cliché phrases before Bakura finally managed to get them to leave, unable to force himself to care any longer. Still, he was more than pleased with the day’s performance; sixty-thousand from this grieving family coupled with the thirty-five thousand he roped earlier that morning from another pair brought his grand total to ninety-five...and he still had three more patients to visit!

“We are going to have a lovely Christmas this year,” he said happily, walking towards the front desk. “Amber?”

“Tough day sir?” The nurse said sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Bakura sighed dramatically, turning in the deceased patient’s file. “Two trips to the morgue already.”

“That’s horrible!”

“I know...”

“So who’s up next?” he asked impatiently.

“Well, you’ve got Smith who has an awful case of cirrhosis...”

A bored look. ‘He’ll live.’

“...or Ishtar, who’s been having that lung problem.”

‘He probably won’t.’

“Ishtar it is,” he decided, taking the manila folder. “Tell the other one I’ll be in later this afternoon, okay?”

“Will do!” She said energetically.

Bakura made his way through the hallway, tucking the file under his arm while he searched his many pockets for a small black phone. Upon locating it, he held down 6, triggering the autodial for the nearest, cheapest florist within a five mile radius. Sandwiching the device between his ear and shoulder, he stopped in front of the elevator and jammed the button hurriedly, tapping his foot while he waited.

“LA Bouquet, this is Jill, how can I help you?”

“This is Dr. Kagami from University Hospital...” Bakura trailed off, straightening a crooked frame on the wall.

“Oh! Did you want to make any changes to the order you placed this morning?” the young woman asked.

“Actually, I’d like to add another order onto that,” he sighed mournfully, making sure to look extra sorrowful as a group of interns passed by. “You see, another one of my patients has unfortunately passed on.”

“Wow, two in one day?”

“Heartbreaking, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yeah...but it’s so kind of you to go through all the trouble of sending their families all these roses.” Bakura could almost see her blushing.

“Well, it’s the least I could do; I’ll e-mail the addresses later today, alright? I’m kind of inundated at the moment.”

“Oh sure, no problem! Have a nice d–”

The pale doctor closed his cell with a flourish and proceeded to page through his next patient’s file, raising an eyebrow at the number of doctors the thirty-six year old man had been transferred to. Mahogany eyes scanned the nearly illegible scribbles of his past physicians; they had diagnosed him with everything under the sun, though his reported symptoms clearly didn’t match the criteria.

“Ovarian Cancer,” Bakura blinked, reading one of the older notes. “...So apparently Dr. Wong thinks men have ovaries. Okay.”

He shook his head as the elevator doors slid open, the cart crammed with irate nurses carrying trays of unsalted, colorless food. Trying his best not to gag at the sickly smell coming off what was supposedly roast beef (it looked more like a shapeless lump of tan), the young doctor waited patiently until he was brought to the fifth floor, home to the hospital’s Intensive Care Unit as well as his office. Giving a fake, yet charming smile to any colleagues he happened to pass on the way to his patients room, Bakura mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of overly precious bullshit he was about to spew.

‘It’s for the money,’ he told himself, turning another corner. ‘It’s for Ryou, and Amane, and Mom.’

“Oh, Kagami,” a fellow doctor called out, “are you going to your office right now?”

“No, patient. Why?”

“You’re going to have to take the long way when you do decide to go,” the other man informed him. “The south hall’s been closed for reconstruction for the rest of the week.”

“Are you serious?” Bakura asked, voice deadpan.

“Sorry,” he shrugged.

He gave a warning knock upon reaching Room 5-16, entering only when he heard the occupant’s weak acknowledgement. Taking in a deep breath and straightening his lab coat, he opened the door slowly, being careful not to many any unnecessary noise.

Bathed in the artificial glow of the overhead florescent lights, the room took on an almost ethereal appearance. The monotonous beeping and blinking on the various monitors that surrounded the patient’s bed were all too familiar to Bakura, as were the echoing clicks that sounded whenever he walked across the too-clean linoleum floors. What the pale doctor wasn’t used to, was the lack of colorful balloons and overpriced greeting cards decorating the patient’s bed. There was nothing of personal value this man’s room, save for a dusty old coat and a pair of worn boots hidden away in the corner.

He approached the bed with the same half hearted smile he offered to everyone else. Lying tiredly on the covers was a dark skinned man, completely bald except for a long black ponytail at the back of his head. An ornate tattoo decorating the left side of his face. His gold eyes opened slightly as Bakura lingered over his still frame.

“Good afternoon Rishid.” The young physician said warmly.

-

Ryou stifled a yawn before flipping through his tabloid for the ninth time, mahogany eyes occasionally peering over its pages to see if any customers had been unfortunate enough to stumble in. Weekday afternoons were notoriously slow business hours; this was especially true for employees at Marble’s, a high-end grocery store that only a handful of the community was rich enough to shop in. Sometimes, someone would walk in out of curiosity, browsing the aisles with no real intention of buying anything. Other times, there’d be a person who’d leave immediately after seeing the price of their produce. The younger twin didn’t mind much; his paycheck would still have the same unwavering value regardless of how much business they had.

“You should take up knitting,” Amane said idly, straightening her apron. She had been hired only two weeks ago. “You always look so bored.”

“Well, listening to soft rock for eight hours isn’t exactly the most exciting way to pass the day,” he replied, shrugging.

“Then what would you rather be doing?”

“...I’m not sure.”

The girl scoffed, grabbing her own magazine. “Well then you don’t have any right to complain, do you?”

“I suppose not,” Ryou said sheepishly.

“Have you called Bakura today?”

“He’s not answering his phone. He texted me something about having a few dead end cases this week; I suppose he’s saving up his energy to deal with the grieving families.”

“His job’s really hard, isn’t it?”

“In more ways than one,” he sighed.

“So why doesn’t he just quit?” Amane frowned. “Bakura’s really good at making all those little toys; he told me he’d try his hand at making a dog if he ever has the time. He could always get a job working with stuff like that, you know?”

“Ask him,” her brother snapped, remembering their argument the day before. “It’s not my responsibility to make sure he’s happy doing whatever he chose to do. I’ve nothing to do with his career decisions.”

“Yeah, but at the same time, I think he’s staying at his job because he wants to make you happy.” Amber eyes locked with dark brown. “A lot of what he’s done was to make everything better than it used to be. Besides, it’s not that he hates his job now, he just doesn’t like dealing with all the people. I think he still finds it fun.” She giggled. “And the money’s not too bad either.”

“Yeah...the money,” Ryou said quietly, feeling very guilty all of a sudden.

“Alright, I get it Malik, go back to work!”

The Kagami siblings looked towards the automatic door expectantly, hiding their gossip rags underneath the counter. A dark skinned blonde with wild hair walked in purposefully, an expensive looking cell phone pasted onto his left ear. Dressed fully in black and having more ear piercings than all of Amane’s friends combined, he looked quite intimidating. Without bothering to spare a glance at the pair, he headed directly towards the produce section after picking up a small shopping basket. Whomever he was talking to really must’ve been annoying him; he looked about ready to chuck the device halfway across the store.

“He looks like an escaped convict,” Amane observed. “What do you think?”

“Judging by the phone, I’d say he’s probably the son of some rich businessman,” Ryou sighed. “In other words, someone who can dress like that without consequence because Daddy never taught him to use self restraint. Honestly, what is this world coming to? Don’t people care about looking presentable anymore?”

“Not everyone a model citizen like you.”

“I know. Shame, really. Kids these days.”

She stifled a laugh. “He’s like the same age as you!”

“Yes, but as you know, I have wisdom far beyond my years,” Ryou said proudly.

“Yeah, sure...”

“Sorry, are you two on break?” Mariku asked irritably, carrying a box of organic cereal, a small jug of milk, a few bags of baked chips, and a rather large amount of strawberries in his basket. “I’d like give you my money now.”

“Um, sure,” Ryou nodded, starting up the register. “That was kind of quick.”

“I don’t like to browse.”

“Well did you find everything you needed?”

“You don’t have any non-salted almonds and your vegetarian section is lacking. Makes it very hard to shop for a demanding live in. Fix it.”

“I’ll...bring it up with my manager,” the white haired male muttered, ringing up the first container of strawberries. “But other than that?”

“Do those look ripe to you?”

“Excuse me?”

“The fruit.”

“Uh, yeah, they look alright to me.”

“Great,” the blonde said distractedly, turning over his credit card. “Paper,” he added, seeing Amane reaching for the plastic bags. “And wrap some newspaper around the milk.”

“Had practice giving orders?” She asked moodily.

“You’re being paid to bag my things, not give to me any lip about my manners.” Mariku retorted.

“Excuse me, that’s my sister you’re talking to!” Ryou blushed.

“So what?”

“So...watch your mouth!” was the lame response.

“Well since you’re so convincing,” the other drawled sarcastically, taking back his card.

“We’ve got money too you know,” Amane snapped, shoving the strawberries into the bag. “So don’t act like you’re any better than us!”

“Trust me, I do this to everyone.” A sneer. “Upper middle class or otherwise.”

“We’re worth more than that!”

“Right. Little advice from someone who knows how this game works; real wealthy people don’t need to tell other people that they’ve got money. So the next time a customer comes in and tells you to, I don’t know, do your job,” he fixed his dark plum eyes on both brother and sister, “just shut up and do it.”

“I...I apologize for her actions,” Ryou said hesitantly, offering a slight bow. “I apologize for mine as well. Though...” he wasn’t about to give up that easily, “if you hadn’t been so rude, all of this could have easily been avoided.”

“You sound just like my brother,” the blonde pouted. “Eh, forget it, I’ve got better things to do than be criticized by a couple of albinos in a checkout line. You’re lucky this is the only grocery store I ever bother going to. I can’t stand those chain names, ugh.” A smile, reminiscent of Malik’s. “Have a nice day.”

“What an ass!” the youngest Kagami hissed immediately after Mariku had left. “He thinks he can boss us around just because–”

“Amane, he had every right to tell us what to do; we work here.”

“Yeah, but he was so–”

“Brazen and crude? I agree. But he had a point.” He sighed. “You can’t go around telling everyone that our family is wealthy.”

“He was treating us like a bunch of...”

“Commoners?” Ryou scoffed. “You know, a few years ago we were even lower than that. You can’t let the money go to your head, it’s not always going to be there. When you talk like that, you’re no better than he is.”

“At least we still buy our food at ‘chain’ stores...”

“But will we be doing so a year from now? You can never tell; money does strange things to people.”

“And people do strange things for money,” his sister countered. “It works both ways.”

“Well it depends on what you consider strange.” Ryou frowned. “We bag groceries and stock shelves; not only is that completely normal, it’s rather dull.”

“Well Bakura sticks his hands into people’s abdomens and occasionally gives them hallucinogenic drugs.”

“And he makes the most out of all of us. Huh. Interesting observation.”

-

Bakura closed the door to Rishid’s room and lingered hesitantly in the hallway, drumming his fingers against the plastered wall. He felt oddly uncomfortable after informing Malik that his stepbrother’s condition was terminal, but was even more unnerved that those lilac eyes never seemed to waver as the news was being told, almost as if he knew exactly what was about to be said. Still, he couldn’t help but feel genuinely bad for the young blonde; maybe it was because the rain made him look extra pathetic, or because they had met in lighter circumstances prior to the revelation. One thing was certain; he didn’t feel sorry for them because he cared. No, Malik was just another soon to be mourner that would bestow a large portion of Rishid’s insurance to him out of ‘gratitude’ and ‘thanks’.

They were all the same.

“Dr. Kagami, the last of the tests you ordered on Mr. Ishtar came in just now.”

Bakura looked over his shoulder and found Amber, the young nurse that ran the front desk. He took the papers she held and flipped though them curiously.

“But...I got these tests this afternoon,” he blinked.

“You got half of the tests this afternoon,” she corrected. “Didn’t you notice you had a few missing?”

“...Oh yeah,” Bakura lied, gaze flitting from the numbers to the young woman in front of him. “Thanks...”

“No problem, have a nice night sir!”

“You too,” he said distractedly, looking over the new figures. There was one number that stood out to him like a sore thumb, a piece of data that threw his previous diagnosis out the proverbial window, along with the money that came with it.

“This could be a little problematic…”

-

“So…other than the imminent death thing…how’ve you been?” Malik said brightly, making a wet ‘flop’ as he bounced into the cushioned chair.

“Bored out of my mind,” Rishid answered, rolling his eyes. “All they give you is that little television way up there,” he pointed to the small box, “I can barely see any football games, much less hear them. And some of the nurses are just plain rude.”

“You’d think a hospital would be a little more…hospitable…”

“Yeah,” he laughed. The older man looked warmly upon his brother, a sad smile forming on his lips. “You know, you’re taking this whole death thing surprisingly well.”

“Would you rather I act abnormally happy, offer to needlessly fluff your pillow, and pretend that we’ve never ever had a disagreement in our lives?” The blonde scoffed. “If that’s what you were expecting, then I’m extremely disappointed in you Rishid.”

“You were always so mean to me Malik…” Rishid joked.

“At least I’m genuine.”

“But really; do you think you’ll be alright without me?”

“I still have Mariku.”

“That’s why I’m so concerned…”

“But...he makes me smile...” Malik said fondly.

“He’s also fond of drinking.”

“Hey, he paid for your treatment; the least you could do is thank him!”

“He may have coughed up the money, but Dr. Kagami is the one who administered my treatment,” Rishid countered, closing his eyes.

“That guy’s just doing his job! I bet he puts on the same plastic faced goody two shoes act for every single patient under his care.”

“He’s given me nothing but the best care in the three weeks I’ve been under his care.”

“Because that’s what doctors do.”

“I want his name on my will,” Rishid said firmly, causing his stepbrother to stand up in shock, looking insulted. “It’s the least I can do; Malik, he’s been so kind to me–”

“You’ve known him for less than a month,” Malik snapped. “Are you insane?”

“No, I’m dying.”

“Oh, do not play that card.” He sighed. “Besides, your insurance is all but gone; once they found out about your condition they practically sliced it into a third of what it was before.”

“Then the doctor can have a third of that third,” the other grinned. “Your boyfriend’s got money, right?”

“You’re totally missing the point.”

“Malik, please.”

“NO.”

“You’d refuse a dying man’s wish?”

“Yes, if I disagreed this strongly about it. You’re making a snap decision Rishid, and you’re always telling me I need to watch out for those.”

“Ten thousand.”

“No.”

“It’s the least I can–”

“I heard you the first time,” Malik huffed. “I was going to use the money to pay back Mariku; but if you think it’s more important to add gratuity on top of the tens of thousands you’ve already shoveled at him, then so be it.”

“Malik–”

“I’m going to tell the good doctor,” the blonde drawled sarcastically, gathering his things. “I hope we get to see each other before the time comes.”

“Do you really want to see me off like this?” Rishid said indignantly. “For all you know I could be dead before tomorrow morning!”

“That’s FINE! At least Dr. Kagami won’t have to wait too long for his paycheck!”

“You’re overreacting!”

“I have to buy dinner,” he muttered under his breath, stomping out the door, slamming it without bothering to look back. “Later.”

Bakura looked up, startled, still mulling over the newly received test results. Malik walked past him quickly, breathing a brief ‘thank you’ before heading towards the staircase. Shoving the paper into Rishid’s folder, the young doctor followed him closely, jogging slightly to keep up.

“So, how’d it go?” he panted.

“Swimmingly,” the blonde snapped.

“Could have fooled me.”

The cafe host stopped and whirled around, lilac eyes ablaze. “I don’t know what kind of act you’re putting on for these poor people, but it isn’t funny.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bakura lied, though he was suddenly very nervous.

“Oh right. So you’re only an asshole outside of the hospital. Yeah, okay.” He tucked a strand of blonde behind his ear. “Listen sensei, you may have managed to fool my stepbrother, but don’t you dare think you can play that game with me.”

“Look, he’s got about a week left, two tops.” The other replied, leaning against the wall. “Do you really think I’d be heartless enough to treat dying patients like I’d treat someone I met at a host restaurant?”

“You’re a fake,” Malik spat.

“And you’re insensitive!”

“Well guess what? Positive thoughts and well wishes won’t help him get any better. So cut the crap!”

After one last glare, he turned around and continued toward the stairs.

Bakura scowled as all hopes of wooing the younger man were dashed. What’s worse, at least for him, Rishid may not be dying at all. The chances were slight, but the latest figures indicated that the bald man may recover from his ‘terminal’ state if the appropriate medicine was prescribed as soon as possible. There was just enough money left over to pay for the treatment, all he needed to do was assign the order and it would be carried out later that night. Rishid might be saved.

He pulled a ballpoint pen from his front pocket, its point hovering over his memo pad. There wasn’t any moral reason not to write down the order, yet he still struggled to do it. The money was right there, dangling in front of him like catnip in front of a crazed kitten. And Malik...he still had to turn Malik into one of those mindless doctor worshiping vegetables like the rest; he wouldn’t let that fiery temper overtake everything he worked so hard to accomplish. He couldn’t allow anyone to challenge his name being on that will, it would raise too many suspicions.

Sighing tiredly, Bakura put away his pen and tossed the pad back onto the filing cabinet, its pages completely blank.

-

If you read carefully, you can pinpoint some of the character’s weird mannerisms (Bakura and Malik’s mostly, Mariku’s is kind of hard.)

So, my college starts up again this Monday…I’ll try to keep the updates (to this story in particular) fairly consistent.

...Hopefully math won’t drain my soul.

Review!

REVIEW!

Review Please!

V