I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! peoples.

I really don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this. Sorry if it's no good.

I woke up laying on my couch, my body laced with cuts and covered in blood. I had no memory of how I'd gotten there, or what I'd been doing all night.

As usual.

I stumbled into the bathroom to get a better look at the damage, feeling my stomach lurch at the knowledge that most of this blood is not mine, because most of my wounds were very minor.

There is blood in my mouth. Damn it, why did he always have to lick the knife?

I strip down and turn the handles in the shower, trying to sooth my aching muscles under the warm stream.

The water that ran by my feet was red. I let it rinse off the worst of the damage before a rather unfortunate washcloth was brought into play to remove the rest.

I rubbed soap up my arms, scrubbing hard before more clean water revealed the flesh beneath, which was almost as pale as the soap itself. I couldn't help but feel a sort of sick pleasure seeing the little pink bubbles wash away, even though I knew that a human life was most likely lost to create them. Maybe lives.

How was I supposed to know?

Next, I tackled the hardest part of this ordeal. I grabbed my bottle of shampoo and dumped a generous amount into my hand before applying it to my hair. I scrubbed my scalp hard, which succeeded in both cleaning my hair and removing the dried blood from under my fingernails.

Finally, I turned the shower off and wrung my hair out a few times. For a few moments I just stood in the tub, listening to the steady drip, drip, drip of water falling from my body.

I grabbed a towel and rubbed it over my hair and my body until I was decently dry, then tossed it aside and threw on my blue school uniform.

I squeezed some toothpaste onto my brush before jamming it into my mouth, willing away the sharp taste of copper. Most people don't like seeing blood in the sink.

Personally, I think it looks pretty how the red, white and pink mingle with each other as they swirl down the drain.

At last, I looked in the mirror. The scratches and cuts were barely noticeable on me, though I was sure that the others would give me hell about them.

In the back of my mind, I could almost imagine what he would be saying to me, had he wished to speak to me directly, though that didn't happen often. You clean up nicely, eh, Yadonushi?

He would be right. I looked like any other schoolboy, albeit one a bit prone to self-injury.

I smiled cynically as I walked out of the bathroom, grabbing my school bag and heading out the door without any breakfast. An ordinary beginning to an ordinary day.

I didn't understand why people get all freaked out when they have blood on their hands. Most people don't seem to notice it just washes right off.

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