Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Do What You Have To Do ❯ Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I think you can tell which ones are mine and which ones aren't.

AN: Don't kill me! *hides*

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-Chapter Eight-

This is SO not happening to me. This is happening to someone else, who is definitely NOT me. In fact, it's happening to someone who lives very very far away from me! This is not happening in my living room, it is happening in somebody else's living room - in America! Ha! Foolish American who has lost a cop and rendered three others incapable of movement up to and including the point of breathing! I laugh at you! Laugh! Laugh!

...dammit, this isn't working.

I'm still in my living room. Still in my too-tight jeans. Still in my Set-be-damned 'Death!' t-shirt.

And I'm standing in a powdery pile of what was once my dearly departed mother's finest set of dinner china. Have I mentioned that I hate my life? Because I do.

I stare at my yami. He stares back at me, looking almost sheepish. His hair's even starting to wilt. It's all I can to do to keep my arms from crossing and my foot from tapping impatiently on the debris-laden ground.

We're missing a cop.

We're MISSING a bloody cop!

And all my dear yami can do is say, "Oops."

"We're missing a cop," I manage to hiss out through gritted teeth.

He blinks those overlong lashes at me. "Hn."

I keep staring. Surely he can understand the seriousness of the - no he can't, because his second joy in life (next to collecting shiny things) is making MY (er, well, our) life miserable! "Yami, how is it possible that we are MISSING a cop?"

He blinks again. "Um..." And then... he - oh no you don't! Do not try and give me the cute look, yami! That's the second look of mine you've stolen, and I want it back, dammit!

I fold my arms and fix him with my most furious glare... which, admittedly, makes me look like an infuriated white kitten, but damn it I'm angry! We could get sued for this!

...That is, if we don't get led to the execution block. No, wait! Japan's outlawed the death penalty! We're saved! Er... sort of. I wonder if father will disown us for this...?

Argh! I need to stop distracting me and look for that damn cop!

"YAMI!"

He jumps and looks about wildly, brandishing a card wildly about in a decidedly Kaiba-esque fashion. Minus the trenchcoat, with double the pissy attitude. Haha, Kaiba with white hair! See how HE looks all shadowy and dramatic with a puffball on his head! Bet he'd spaz over a split end, too! ...Not that I spaz over split ends, mind you. I don't. I couldn't care less if a single delicate strand of hair on my head were to - to - get frayed...

OH GOD I'M OUT OF CONDITIONER!

"WHAT?!?!"

Oh. Yami screaming in my face. Shiny fangs. Pretty yami. Granted, his tonsils aren't that pretty, but on the whole, he is. Oh, right! Bad bad BAD situation! Bad as in "Oops-My-Gym-Teacher-Just-Exploded!" type of bad!

Note to self: Do NOT pull out self's hair. That causes self pain. Pull out self's yami's hair instead. Laugh maniacally when self does so. "Find the cop!"

He straightens up and looks offended. "You find the cop!"

I plant my fists on my hips and snarl back, "I didn't lose the cop!"

"...Oh, right." He blinks and looks around again. "Where did he go, anyway?"

Thank you, o cruel fate, for giving me a featherbrained kleptomaniac for a yami. Really. I appreciate it. Can you see me appreciate it? Well, can you?! CAN YOU?!

A soft cough interrupts my righteous fury. "Yadonushi, is there any particular reason why you're making obscene gestures at the ceiling?"

I fix on my, "I'm an innocent little angel!" look and face him, watching him twitch spasmodically. He doesn't like that look. Or maybe he does. Hard to tell, with my yami. He's either about to puke or about to - um. Blush. Dirty thoughts are BAD, self. Do not think them about your yami, for you are mad at him right now. "No, Yami. Look for the cop, Yami."

...Actually, I sorta think I should be taking my own advice here. Yami doesn't legally exist, after all - and what if we have the same fingerprints or something?! I'm screwed!

Okay, time to get started.

Right.

And the cop is... not standing in between me and my yami! Time to look elsewhere. So I turn around and am met with the most nauseating sight of my life, and believe me, what meets my eyes is even more vomit-inducing than a drunken Seto Kaiba proclaiming his eternal love and devotion to his BEWD cards.

(He was VERY drunk at the time. As in, ranking very highly in a drinking contest with everyone and his yami slamming back tequila shots.

He even got down on one knee, as I recall... or did he trip?

And then he staggered up again, grabbed Mokuba's BEWD plushie and attempted to snog it.

The fact that he missed and wound up planting a huge wet smack on Yami no Yugi's lips continues to be a source of endless amusement to me to this very day. Have you ever seen drunken attempts at not only a yami no game, but also an enraged beating meted out by one Yugi Mutou, whose opponent is approximately two feet taller than him?)

At any rate, what I see is big. It is round. It is pink. And it is jiggling. It is Mrs. Miyaki's ample behind, and I am about to lose not only my breakfast, but also lunch, a light after-school snack, and our rather fancy dinner.

"My eyeeeeeeeeeeeeees!" I wail melodramatically, and then suddenly find myself staring at a much nicer behind.

Hello there Yami's ass. Aren't we looking fine today?

"What's wrong, yadonushi?! Who should I kill?!"

Ah. My yami. Devotion at its best. Also buttocks at their best. I wonder if mine look that good? It would make sense, wouldn't it? We look an awful lot like one another, after all... no, I am NOT a narcissist!

Stop looking at me like that, I am not!

Just because we're the same height and have the same features and dress exactly alike does NOT mean I'm narcissitic! He has spikier hair! And longer eyelashes!

...I thought I told you to stop looking at me like that!

"Yadonushi? Sometime today?"

I blink and turn to stare at the bane of my existance. (AKA my reason for being overly paranoid about the legal authorities, which is a much more accurate description of the joys that having a yami has brought into my life - have YOU ever been chased down filthy alleyways by a ravening pack of rabid police dogs before?)

Yami's tapping his card on his arm with an air of disaffected boredom, and is idly toying with the pokey bits of our Ring. "So do I get to kill her, or what?"

Oh! Right - scary devil-woman with the - NOT thinking about that! "No, you don't. Go find that stupid cop!"

See? I can focus just fine. And am not destracted by yami's pouty lips. Am not. Not not not. Am not a narcissist, either.

Yami gives me a sulky glare and hops over the wreckage of the dining room table, heading into the kitchen. I can't help but notice that he kicks the soulless cop rather viciously in the gut as he goes. I think he may have lingering issues with the law enforcement due to previous-life run-ins with authority figures (who were probably after his head - with or without his body attached).

I glance around again, keeping my gaze far FAR away from Madame Miyaki's gargantuan derriere. If anything were to drive me to suicide, it would be a second-chance enounter with THAT. Let's see here: small fires, chunks of plaster littering the ground, a thoroughly demolished dining set, my cowering father, Miss Hazumi slowly inching her way out of the room (smart girl), and a cowering Mr. Miyaki who looks as though he's about to pass out... yup, all is situation normal here at Chez Bakura.

...Was that an 'eep' I just heard?

I look around again, but father's a comatose zombie in the corner, and Mr. Miyaki's unconcious, and - I'm NOT looking at Mama Miyaki and yami doesn't go 'eep', he goes... well, it involves a lot of Ancient Egyptian swear words. And they are NOT nice swear words, either.

So whither the 'eep' then, I wonder?

Kitchen = my yami. Dining room = everyone else. And it definitely sounded like it came from somewhere in this room, but there's nowhere to hide. The last time we lost someone in here was - was...was Malik's yami, who then proceeded to...jump...off...of the...

CHANDELIER!

So I look up at the ceiling. And wide, terrified eyes stare back down at me as if I'm... well... my yami, actually.

And then I grin. Problem solved!

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaami! Guess what I fouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuund!"

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AN: :-D

*bolts*

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