Yes, I remember the good old days when I was in love with Bakura-Beats-RyouANGSTtear fics. But now that I have inhaled more crack (and not necessarily literally) my viewed have expanded into the horizon AND BEYOND.

I wondered what would happen if the roles were switched. The more I write, the more it seems like it's writing itself. Ah, so screwed up.

WARNING: Bad metaphors, crud language, attempted humor. Well, it's humor if you don't take it seriously. I hold no responsibility if readers die of this pathetic-ness.

CHAPTER: Due to my inability to be coherent, there's an actual flashback.

ADVERTISEMENT: Gintama is an awesome, awesome manga. If VIZ wasn't such a bastard and liscenced it, I wouldn't have to go buy their crappy translations. Haven't seen anime so I can't say.

DISCLAMER: If I owned Yugioh, I would never ever let America have it and rob it of its virginity.

Non Sequitur

I. what it's like, now


Hello, Mr. Johnson. Will you tell me what time it is today?

Yes, I will. Now, it is-

"Hey, Ryou."

Oh great, what now?

He looked up from his English book as a body settled itself on his desk. His goddamn desk that he used to do homework, sleep, and eat lunch. A scent of overdosed cologne (although Ryou liked to think of it as moose shit; and besides, wasn't it banned?) -only the transfer student smelled like that. What was his name? Mi… mika? Um… no. Mimi? Well, Ryou wasn't sure but it was close, and it fit. Sort of.

Like with the rest of the student population, Ryou never bothered with him much. Although he was the heartthrob of an impressive number of girls, he was also kind of a sissy. And he was just like everyone else.

"Are you busy after school?" Mimika flashed a gorgeous smile that would have made any normal 16-year-old girl (and perhaps boy) redden.

Two girls in the corner started crying; their beloved crush was, obviously, gay. Six more girls were having nosebleeds, and 17 male students were feeling very jealous indeed. But no one was surprised, as if a guy hitting on Ryou was nothing new.

Which it wasn't.

Ryou, with immense effort, suppressed the urge to inflict something incredibly painful. He could feel his lips curving in anger into a wild grin.

Obviously, Mikamika misinterpreted his strained smile and was encouraged. "Well?"

Oh, right, a response.

What had Bakura always said?

Don't flick shit out in the world, and the world won't regurgitate shit back at you.

It was bad. It was crude. It made Bakura sound like a drunk and abusive parent. But it was one of the few morals they both agreed on.

"Not really." So he never lied to avoid situations.

Mimikami's smile widened, if possible, and leaned closer. His voice was practically a whisper. "Oh… then would you like to come over after school today?"

It was a bad show.

The lingering face drew nearer, and hell, even his lips were making Ryou feel quite threatened.

Oh heeeeels no.

"Because I need-"

Ryou heard enough, and he didn't particularly care. Besides, he had let the little scenario continue a little longer than necessary. Chair scraping the floor, Ryou snapped up and promptly kicked over his desk, Mimi-boy on top. The furniture hit the floor with a resounding crash.

He righted himself, pushed his silver hair out of his eyes and made a face. "I. Hate. People. Breathing. On. Me."

The students instantly erupted in laughter as Mikamimikamika cursed, attempting to stand up.

The door to the classroom slammed open as five people shoved their way past the cheering students.

"Excuse me, excuse me," the head student declared, "MERF VORB COMING THROUGH."

The Medical Emergency Rescue Team For Victims of Ryou Bakura crowded around Mimimika Mimi.

"Everything hurts," he complained as they checked his injuries.

"Hm… it looks like a twisted ankle, some fractured bones-oh, will you shut up, we've seen worse-a slight concussion, and a nasty bruise right there… and pay up."

"What? What do- hey, stop reaching in my pants!"

"Thank you for your business and-"

"My wallet! Don't stuff it in your fucking pocket!"

"-your welcome is appreciated."

Ignoring his protests, the noble MERF VORB pulled him up and dragged him away to the infirmary.

Another soul saved from the brink of death!

"I haven't given up on you yet, Ryou!"

"I love you!"

"I know the color of your closet!"


Ryou made a mental note to request Bakura's traps around the house.


He ignored the giggles from a number of girls and squeezed himself into the already too tightly packed subway train. He also ignored the stares from the other, other gender. And the said stares weren't thrown at him only to admire his awesome Gintama book bag, either.

Normally, Ryou would have walked because there was hardly anything else in the world he hated more than public transportation.

Moments later, he felt "accidental" brushes against his ass.

And that was why he avoided large crowds as best as he could. But alas, he was tired so he carried out the first step to Avoiding Further Molestation.

He turned his head and glared.

"Excuse me, but are you groping my ass?"




"And what if I was?"

Five people stopped, and looked at each other, confused with oh shit, I could have avoided this somehow expressions written on their faces.

Well, that was awkward.


Ten minutes later, Ryou walked fast-like out of the subway. He was thankful the compartment was small, and that his stop was the last. It was a lot of work, stuffing bodies under the seats.

"Hey, babe, looking for a fun job?"


He skipped away from the dumpster, wondering how long it would take for the garbage truck to make it's next round.

And he was sorry the bags weren't strong enough to hold objects 6 feet tall.

I a. (what was in the beginning)

Ever since the teacher's "class, Bakura Ryou" introduction, he could find no peace. It was only the first day, and he was already in trouble with the teachers.

Stop fighting with the students. What do you mean you haven't done anything? The bloodstains on your uniform proves it.

They pissed Ryou off, but he had long since learned to go along with teachers. How bothersome.

A tap on the shoulder, maybe a little too roughly. "Hey, that's my spot you're sitting in."

Won't they ever leave him alone? He turned to politely inform the other party to shut the fuck up. "What's your pro-" Ryou flinched backwards, but could not evade the red that splattered his cheeks. Oh, not "Again? What the hell!"

The other student held his hand up to his face, and stood transfixed at the liquid that he had wiped off. "Stop screwing with me!" The blood was positively streaming from his nose.

So it went like that for weeks and weeks. For fear of nosebleeds, no one could look at him in the eye. But he didn't mind; he rather preferred it.


He got it from the pawnshop, the ring. It looked shiny, lonely, and very capable of being used as a protective gadget against offending stalkers. One thing he wasn't expecting was the item glowing a warm, fuzzy light the minute he placed it around his neck. Nor was he expecting another presence to appear in his soul and take over his body.

The other spirit would have stuffed Ryou in the soul room and ran away to do evil deeds-such as world domination, voodoo, licensing manga -but that would have only happened if Ryou was a weenie (which he was anything but).

"Get out of me! Oh, but you're my host now. I'm your what? I'm going to be sharing your body, heh."

(Of course it would sound very improper had there been a random passerby)

Ryou didn't specifically like the sound of that, so he shut the spirit up by using his expert shaman skills and running into a table.

"Are you" bam "-fucking-" bam "ouch-insane?" Fortunately, Bakura wasn't stupid enough to stay in someone's body if they were going to inflict self-pain and share the experience. After the spirit appeared in a separate solid body, Ryou wasted no time shoving him in the closet and locking it.

What the fuck is your problem? Bakura had grumbled from inside. Who the hell in the world puts a lock in their closet with metal bar support?

But Ryou knew his undergarments had a peculiar tendency to disappear. And he once saw his pair of "lost" boxers drying on the flat of some kid who was absent the day they were missing from his drawers.

Thus, the lock.

"Okay, so what are you doing here?"

"It's not like I wanted to be here, you bought the ring, didn't you? Ah, it must be fate. I can sense the pharaoh's presence very well from here. And I will proceed to steal his puzzle and shove it up his ass for all the agony he's caused me all these centuries. What year is it now anyway? 1949? A.D.? I guess I was pretty lucky to be stuck in a pawnshop; good stuff to pick up. By the way, if you haven't noticed, I'm a five thousand year old spirit who was locked away in the ring. And you're my reincarnation."

Double you tea eff?

"Looks like I'll be stuck with some sadistic table-ramming bastard. Not that I'm complaining much."

After two more hours of questioning and reassuring that Ryou was indeed not having hallucinations, Bakura was allowed to be let out, but only if he tied both hands behind his back (with duct tape) for the initial four months.

And then a lovely friendship blossomed.