The tournament arena is jam-packed with people at this hour, all gathered round to witness the third of six or seven preliminary duels in the small scale event. In one of the few front row stadium style seats, you are seated with three of your friends, watching the duel excitedly. At some point a couple of your friends had tried to convince you to enter this tournament, but you'd quickly dismissed that idea. Sure, you dueled, and you had to admit that you were pretty good, but you'd never liked the competitive nature of the tournaments. As far as you were concerned, it was more fun to just duel at home with your friends where the biggest thing riding on the outcome was who was going to pay for the pizza that night. However, you did enjoy watching the duels, just like now. Some thickly Jersey-accented blond is currently showing his opponent just how great the Red Eyes Black Dragon can be when one finally gets to use it.
All too soon the duel is over and you find yourself cheering with the rest of the crowd as the blond steps down victorious and struts about on the outside of the dueling platform before heading off. At this point your friend, Chiyo, nudges you on the shoulder and you turn to look her at expectantly. Her face is lit up with a grin (Chiyo is all about competitive dueling, one of the reasons you hardly ever take her on), "Want to come get something from the concession with me before the next duel?"
Tapping on your chin, you think on it a moment before finally shrugging. "Not really, Chiyo. How about after the next duel?" You glance at your watch; "I'll have to be getting home by then anyway."
Her grin fades only slightly and she shrugs. "Sure thing, (your name)." After two more similar offers from your other friends Midori and Seiji (the brother and sister pair of your little group), your attention is finally back on the tournament at hand. Although the raucous sound of several thousand people chattering at once fills the arena, the loudspeakers seem to swallow it all up as the names of the next two duelists are announced. "Bakura Ryou and Hiroshi Yukio, please ascend the dueling platforms!" a voice thunders out of the speakers.
As these words are spoken, two boys step up to the platforms. The first is nothing eye catching, despite his thick mane of jet black hair and baby soft features. It is the second one that draws your attention. Firstly because his hair is silvery white and he looks to be no more than your age, secondly because hanging around his neck, lying against the blue and white striped t-shirt he wears, is the ugliest, most gaudy piece of gold bling you have ever seen. For a few seconds it almost hurts to look at it. What the heck was this kid thinking when he looked in the mirror this morning? Certainly he couldn't think the piece of junk looked good, right?
However, when the duel finally kicks off, you find yourself more engrossed in watching rather than paying any more attention to his tacky accessory. Within a matter of minutes he has stomped his poor opponent with a merciless assault. You note that even though he won the duel, his demeanor is still chilly, as if nothing important even happened at all. Although, even from your seats, you can see the cocky grin attempting to tug at the corner of his lips. His black haired opponent steps down, stomping and ranting, before running off muttering curses and empty threats.
You stretch your arms above your head and turn to your friends. "How about that concession stand?" you ask them, after reading the time off your wristwatch. The three of them agree with you and soon you're picking your way through the crowd towards the exit of the large building.
"Wait," Midori chimes as you step out onto the street where three or four vendors have set up shop. After glancing up and down the sidewalk, her eye seems to catch something more promising than just a nasty old hot dog. "We should get ice cream!"
At this thought, you lick your lips. On a hot day such as this one, an ice cream will certainly hit the spot. And thankfully Chiyo and Seiji agree. You four head off down the street towards the ice cream parlor, which is roughly a block and a half away from your current location.
Once there, you all order exceptionally large sundaes, or in your case a banana split and then head outside to eat them. The little parlor boasts three white, iron tables with matching chairs out front. Finally the four of you are seated around one, talking animatedly about the duels you'd managed to take in.
"That Joey guy was awesome!" Seiji exclaims around a mouthful of ice cream, causing some of it to dribble down his chin. "Sure," Chiyo agrees, "but did you see that Bakura? He totally kicked butt against that Hiroshi dude."
Laughing, you ask, "Bakura's that dude with the hideous bling on right?"
Your friends mouths drop open. "Bling?" Midori asks, an eyebrow raised.
"Yeah!" you confirm. "That thing around his neck! It was such a big honking, ugly, gaudy piece of bling!"
All about you, your friends eyes have widened to the size of saucers. From behind you, you hear a low voice growl, "Is that so?"
As you whirl around, you fishmouth, trying to come up with something to say. However, the speaker is already stalking off down the street. Instantly you recognize him, due to that mane of white hair. Oh no, you think frantically, that was so mean! And he heard me!
"(your name)! You just insulted Bakura!" Chiyo's face is one of stark horror, as if she can't believe you could say something like that. Although, honestly, you're sure if Bakura hadn't been standing there, all three of your friends would have laughed and agreed.
"Great," you grumble, "I'm the queen of idiot." Without saying anything to your companions, you jump up out of your chair and race off after Bakura, who's still a little ahead of you.
"Wait!" you call, feet pounding against the pavement. "Come on, Bakura, wait up!"
He ignores you, but eventually, you catch up with him. Your hand darts out and closes around his arm and you jerk him to a stop. Bakura whirls on you, a dangerous look in his eye as he stares down at you. Huffing, you continue to hold on to him and attempt to catch your breath. You're thankful that he doesn't pull away as you do this; you definitely weren't up to running after him again. Once your breathing stabilizes, you look up at him, an apologetic expression on your face. He simply glares at your hand and then back up at you.
You let go of his arm quickly, "I just... I'm sorry, Bakura, I didn't mean to insult your bling."
His face contorts into a look of irritation.
"I mean, I'm sure they consider it really fashionable in some communities..." You shake your head, "I mean, I'm really sorry!"
He simply continues to glare at you and after a few moments attempts to step around you. However, you're not going to let him get away that easily. "Wait, you haven't accepted my apology."
Finally, he speaks, "I don't need your apology, girl."
"No, no, you don't understand. I mean, I was so rude to you. It's probably not your fault that you have no sense of style. Especially, if you were raised that wa-" you stop, eyes widening as Bakura's irritated expression deepens. "Oh, oh, that was bad," you admit in a childish voice.
With an exasperated noise, Bakura tries to step away again, but you're quick to move in front of him. "Bakura, I'm really sorry, you have to accept my apology." Your eyes travel to the piece of jewelry around his neck. Although up close it's not as hideous as you once thought, it's still rather large and garish. "I mean, I really don't want us to part on bad terms, ya know?"
His eyebrow raises, "I don't believe we were on good terms to begin with."
"That's why we can't part on bad ones!" you screech. "It's bad luck. And I really am sorry about insulting the bling. Up close it's not as ugly as I thought..." You reach out, index finger extended in an effort to touch the jewelry.
Bakura's hand clamps down tightly on your wrist. The irritation is gone from his face, replaced by another glare. "Don't touch it," he snarls, releasing your hand and backing away.
Your eyes widen at this as you try to mask your surprise. Man, he sure is sensitive about that bling. "Well, uh, sure, okay." You smile widely at him, successfully concealing how weirded out you've just been. "Anyway, you have to accept my apology," you insist again, moving towards him. "You really need to."
You can almost see the vein twitching on Bakura's forehead. Sighing in resignation (for he can certainly tell that you won't leave him alone until he okays your statements), Bakura replies, "Fine! You're sorry, that's great. Now, I'm leaving." And this time, he steps around you and takes off at a faster pace than before.
"Somehow I still don't think he accepted it," you mutter before heading off to rejoin your friends.