TO DECEIVE IS TO BELIEVE
By Starflower Sakura

DISCLAIMER: Um… the story belongs to me, but the characters do not.

To readers/reviewers: Well! I'm finally updating, but not because someone emailed me and yelled at me –coughs-Yukimura Seika-san-coughs- Anyways, this chapter is most necessary to the developing err… relationship(?) between the "yamis" and the "hikaris." Ahh, how I feel for Yugi, Ryou, and Malik… -smirks- And, another thing, 211 reviews? Oh gosh, how I LOVE you guys! I really, utterly do! I always get so happy reading reviews and I feel so loved! Every single one of you who aren't repulsed by my horrid writing, here's a hug and a kiss!

Started: Sunday, January 30, 2005
Completed: Friday, February 23, 2006

To Deceive Is To Believe
Chapter 8 – Getting to Know the Family

"So um… what's your name again?" Sugoroku asked for the twentieth time in the pass half an hour that Yami's been there.

"Motoyoshi Yami."

"Right… Anyways, Yami… you want to volunteer here at the Kame Game Shop?"

"That's right, Moto-san!"

After finding out that Yuugi's grandfather owned the Kame Game shop, Yami decided that volunteering there was a wonderful way to enhance his relationship with Yuugi. Of course, actually getting the volunteering job was harder than he thought. He was asked many questions and Sugoroku keeps on forgetting his name!

"Well… I don't know… I already have my grandson to help me…"

"But with more people, you would get the job done faster!"

Sugoroku thought for a moment. He was getting on in age even though he won't admit it, and he was volunteering which means no pay. It would also be nice that Yuugi has a friend from school who would be able to help him with his schoolwork.

Sugoroku can't think of anything to say besides, "When do you want to start?"

Yami smirked, "Is Yuugi working now?"

Sugoroku glanced at the clock. Five o'clock. Yuugi's usually done with his homework around this time, and even if he wasn't, he'll insist on helping until closing time. A smile made its way across his face. Surely no one can ask for a better grandson.

"I should believe so."

"Then please let me start now."

Sugoroku smiled. "Okay. I'll tell Yuugi to show you how things are done."

Getting up slowly since old age really was catching up to him, Sugoroku and Yami walked out of the backroom and was met with the sight of a jovially humming Yuugi. His humming soon turned to grunts of annoyance when he tried to stock some action figures on a high shelf. One arm was holding more of the action figures while the other tried to get at least one up on that shelf.

"Just… a… little… more…" Yuugi groaned as his tiptoeing gave him a small boost in height.

Yami walked over, and being taller (by just a little) he took the box from Yuugi to his surprise and placed it on the shelf with minimum difficulty. It's amazing what a few measly inches can do.

"M—M-Motoyoshi-san!"

Yami grinned, "It's nice to see you too, Yuugi-chan."

"W-What are you dong here?"

"Why, working, of course!"

"W-Working?" Yuugi asked, meekly. He didn't know why, but there was a little nagging voice in the back of his head that told him he really didn't want to know.

"Yes. I have asked Moto-san if I can volunteer here, and he agreed."

"H-He did?" Yuugi asked, a bit more shrilly than he liked. He'll need to talk to his grandfather later. A nice, long talk about hiring creepy stalkers that goes by the name Motoyoshi Yami.

"Yes. Is there something wrong?" Yami already knew that Yuugi didn't like how things were going, but there was absolutely no way he'll lose the bet. It just wasn't in him to lose. Although he did pity the kid a bit for being pulled into this without having done anything to deserve it.

Oh well. He'll probably forgive me in the end if I pay him or something. Yami glanced around the small game shop. I'm certain he'll accept the money. It certainly looks like they'll need it.

"M-Motoyoshi-san?"

"Hmm?" Yami inquired, snapping out of his thoughts.

"C-Can you help me put the rest of these up there?" Yuugi motioned to the boxes in his arms and on the floor. "I would do it myself… but…" A blush that Yami found completely adorable (not that he'll admit it) spread across Yuugi's face. "… I can't reach…" Yuugi finished his sentence in a slight mumble.

Yami laughed, and with an cheeky, "I'd be honored to help you," helped Yuugi stock the action figures on the shelf while Yuugi worked on stocking things on a lower shelf.

Glancing behind his shoulders, Yami felt a smile touch the tip of his lips. Instead of stocking like he was supposed to, Yuugi was too preoccupied examining some new games that just came in. The delighted, simplistic grin that was on Yuugi's face made Yami's mind spin.

So he likes games that much, huh? Games will definitely easier then… art. Yami cringed at the thought of his "masterpieces."

Really, though, art just wasn't his thing. That didn't mean he'll stop trying to impress Yuugi with his "artistic" talent. It just means that… it won't really be him that'll make the art works. That's where money comes in. And boy does he have a lot of that.

It's nice to have options. Very nice, indeed.

Taking one more quick glance at Yuugi, Yami resumed his stocking. Pfft. Work? It isn't so hard. He could do this all day. He didn't know what the hell his parents were talking about when they said that work their work was "demanding." Work was work to him.

-------

"Bakura-sama! What are you doing?" a servant asked in horror as he looked at the mess laid out before him.

Bakura didn't answer him, but only continued his destruction of the house. Knocking over tables, breaking vases, smashing windows, cutting up the furniture, burning precious antiques, Bakura was doing all this quite jubilantly while the reason 'why' was not yet known.

"Bakura-sama! Stop this atrocity at once!"

"Only if you kick me out!"

"What? Bakura-sama! I can't kick you out of your own house!"

"Then I won't stop!" Bakura hummed exultantly as another painting went into the fireplace.

Completely horrified, the servant was unsure of what to do.

The Master will be terribly angry if anything else is broken. How will I explain this to him when he and the Mistress get home from their trip!

"Alright, alright! You're 'kicked out' for the time being! Just please stop breaking things, Bakura-sama!"

Bakura stopped and smirked, "Thanks. It's so much easier to act when I'm really kicked out of the house."

He watched as Bakura went up the stairs and towards him room. The servant winced when he heard another vase shatter.

"Bakura-sama!"

"That was the last one!"

Only until Bakura slammed his door shut did the servant let out the breath that he didn't even know he was holding. Really, Bakura was too much sometimes. Always so unpredictable, and putting his job on the line every single day.

But… here the servant smiled. But… Bakura-sama always takes responsibility for his actions if the Master really was going to fire one of us. God knows he almost got every single one of us of us fired at least once!

"And… whatever did Bakura-sama mean by it being 'easier to act,'" The servant sighed, "At least he stopped in his destruction of the house. Now how will I explain this mess and the fact that I kicked their son out of his own house?"

"I'm leaving now!" Bakura shouted when he reached the handle of the door, a giant suitcase in his hands.

"You're really leaving, Bakura-sama?"

"But of course I'm leaving! Don't worry about me! I'll just be staying over at a friend's and I'll tell Father everything!"

"But…"

Bakura waved him off, and slammed the front door behind him. The servant rushed towards the front door with a hope that he'll be able to convince Bakura to come back, but once he reached it, Bakura was already out of sight.

-------

"It's… this one," Bakura muttered to himself, his suitcase being dragged brusquely behind him.

The paper Bakura was currently holding in his hand had a very hasty scribble of what appears to be an address of sorts. The words, or what is assumed to be words, were jammed together. It's an amazing feat to be able to make out even one word, much less the whole thing! Then again, it was Bakura's own handwriting so he must've had some way of telling what in the world he wrote.

Making his way up to the doorsteps of a white two-story house, Bakura let his suitcase slip from his hands, put on his most distressed face, and rang the doorbell.

An, "I'm coming!" come from inside and Bakura waited patiently for the current resident of the house to answer the door and (hopefully) let him in. A shriek of surprise, followed by a loud thump caused Bakura to wonder just what was going on in there.

"I'll be there in a second!" the person said, and sounds of struggling sounded from inside.

When after a couple more minutes of waiting, the door was finally opened and revealed a flour-covered, rumpled-haired Ryou who looked much more distress then Bakura ever would be able to put into his act.

"May I help—Oh! Ryusaki-san!"

Bakura tried hard to keep his anguished expression on, but Ryou looked much too hilarious for him to be able to keep up the act. Instead, pushing his pride out of the way for the moment by reminding himself of the bet that he has to win, Bakura flung himself at Ryou and tried to ignore the flour that was going to get all over him as well.

"Ryu-Ryusaki-san! What are you doing?" a very shocked, and temporarily scarred Ryou questioned.

"I got kicked out of my own house!" Bakura moaned, pushing as much pain into his tone as possible.

"You came all the way here to tell me that?" Ryou asked, dread already filling him from head to toe.

"Well…" Bakura dragged out. "That's part of it."

"Then what's the other part?"

Bakura pulled himself back so that he was face to face with Ryou, and with a most feral grin, he said, "I'm going to live with you until they take me back!"

"What?"

Bakura gave his most depressed expression, but instead of earning the pity that he hoped for, Ryou was scared stiff. Apparently his face only looked its best when he was angry, plotting, being deviously evil, etc. Anything that doesn't fall under those, looks completely wrong and plain scary on his face.

Of course, Bakura was never one to let an opportunity go to waste. "Well, since you're not objecting, I'll just assume that you've agreed! I'll just let myself in."

And he did just that. Grabbing his suitcase, he pushed past Ryou and into the house. Ryou continued standing at the doorway, unable to find any words that were able to express his anguish and horror.

He took a few deep breaths, turned to face Bakura and slowly and calmly said, "You… may… may n—may n—may stay here, if you please." Ryou sighed dejectedly. Curse the manners that were drilled into him when he was young, and one of the first rules of being a perfect host was that you can't turn away from a friend in need.

Sure, Bakura wasn't a friend. He wasn't close to being a friend, but he did know him, and it would just be cruel if he refused. His conscience won't be able to take it, and he'll probably go out at night to search for him just to make sure he's okay.

"So which room will I stay in?"

"The guestroom. Go up the stairs and it's the second room on your right."

Bakura was just about to check out his new room, but decided to voice the question that was on his mind since Ryou opened the door. "What happened to you?"

"Hmm?"

"You're a mess," Bakura stated bluntly.

"Oh," Ryou blushed. "I-I was trying to bake a cake."

"I see."

Climbing up the stairs and leaving Ryou to his baking, Bakura entered the guestroom and noticed with distaste at the blandness of it. It was very white, for lack of a better word. The walls were white with not one single thing marring its surface. The bed sheets were also white. The wardrobe, nightstand, and everything else in that room was made out of wood and didn't do a very good job at brightening up the room.

"At least it has a nice view," Bakura muttered at the large window on the opposite side of the room.

A scream caught his attention, and Bakura opened his door to try and help in any way possible. Ryou seems to have heard him somehow for he shouted, "Don't come down! Everything's under control!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Don't worry!"

Bakura went back into his room warily, but left it open just in case his help will be needed in the near future.

"Oh, where's the fire extinguisher?" he heard Ryou moan in distress.

His eyes widening in terror, Bakura rushed downstairs just in time to see Ryou putting out a fire. Ryou looked even more messed up then he did before. Bakura coughed when he saw the smoke-filled kitchen. He was about to suggest opening the window, but saw that it was already opened.

"Are you okay?"

"Um… yea…" Ryou muttered breathlessly. As an afterthought, Ryou muttered to himself, "And I was so sure I'll get it this time…"

The only thing stopping Bakura from running out of the door to avoid being burned alive while staying there was the thought of losing to Yami or Marik.

-------

"Oh, you poor thing!"

Marik nodded at Isis's sympathy. He just finished telling Isis about how most if not all of his cooks (especially during dinnertime) are "incapable of cooking." How he can barely stuff in a few mouthfuls before becoming sick, and how he envied Malik for having such a wonderful sister to cook delicious food for him everyday to which she responded: "That's right and he's still ungrateful!"

"How about you come here for dinner? It isn't any problem, and I'm sure Malik would love to have a friend over."

Now, if Malik was here, but he isn't, he would've strongly objected to everything Isis just said. The reason he isn't here is because, the minute Marik rang the doorbell, Malik hastily informed Isis he was going "grocery shopping" and jumped out his room's window. He wasn't harmed since there was a tree by his window and he's done this plenty of times (mostly running away from Isis when she's on his tail about doing chores).

"You're sure it won't be any trouble?" Marik asked.

"Of course not! You can eat tonight with us, in fact! Which reminds me, I should be getting dinner started, and Malik isn't back from his grocery shopping. Not sure why he went grocery shopping, though. I just went earlier today." Isis mumbled the last part to herself.

Marik smiled politely. "I'm sure he has his reasons."

Isis snorted uncharacteristically, "Don't try to stand up for Malik, Ishiyama-kun. We both know he's just trouble on legs."

Laughter. "He isn't that much trouble, Isis-san."

"That's only because you haven't tried living with him," Isis pointed out. "Why, I've lost count of all the times he's made me want to pull my hair out in frustration!"

"Why would you want to do that? You have such beautiful hair!" Marik complimented, deciding that the only way to get close to someone like Malik was through someone close to him. Thankfully, that person was a woman, and, from his experience, every woman loves being complimented.

"Oh! Well… I do try to keep it nice and—"

"I'm home, Onee-chan! Is he gone?"

"Malik!" Isis scolded before Malik even showed his face. "Is that any way to speak of a guest?"

"So, what you mean is, he's not gone?"

"Malik-chan! Guess what? Your lovely sister has asked me to stay for dinner!" Marik shouted from his chair, grinning from ear to ear.

"Alright! I'm gone!" Malik shouted back, and both of them could hear the door opening again.

"Malik! If you go out of that door, don't expect to come back in tonight!"

Silence came from Malik's end. Then they heard the front door close softly with a click. Assuming that Malik had indeed left, Isis became livid.

"Why that boy—" She stopped in mid-sentence as Malik dragged himself dejectedly into the kitchen, a dark scowl on his face.

"Oh," Isis began, feeling a bit ashamed at her assumption. "So you haven't left?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Malik snapped.

Deciding to change the subject, Isis asked, "Where's the grocery?"

"What grocery?"

"You said you were going grocery shopping so one would assume that the one doing the grocery shopping would actually bring back some grocery."

Malik blushed, remembering his quick excuse to escape the house when Marik got there. Really, what was that guy doing at his house in the evening anyways? Don't he know he isn't welcomed here? Malik taking a glance at Marik who was sitting contently at the kitchen table, glared. Obviously not since he's still here.

"Malik, what happened to the grocery?" Isis asked, one hand on her hip, waiting impatiently for an explanation.

"I… forgot?" Malik finished lamely, putting on a big fake grin for his sister and hoped that he wouldn't get in trouble is she found out that he was lying about the whole thing.

Isis sighed, "I really don't know why you said you were going shopping in the first place. I already went earlier this afternoon when you were at school."

"Oh…"

Marik covered his chuckle with a cough. Malik whirled on him, fire blaring in his eyes. "What are you laughing at?"

"Malik! That's no way to treat a guest!"

"But!"

"No buts! Now you two go outside to the living room while I make us dinner."

Knowing better than to argue with her, Malik pouted and brought himself to the living room in which he plopped down ungracefully on the couch. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the TV and channel surfed.

Sitting down next to him, Marik watched in uncontained amusement as Malik rapidly pressed the buttons on the control. "Are you searching for a specific channel?"

"No."

"Then I assume that you caught the gist of what all those channels you passed were about?"

"No."

"Then what are you doing?"

"It's called channel surfing!" Malik growled.

From inside the kitchen, "Malik! What did I say about being nice to the guest?"

Giving an aggravated growl, Malik got up, hurled the control at Marik, and hissed, "Fine! You have fun with the TV while I help Isis cook!" Then he readily stormed into the kitchen.

Marik didn't care much for the TV. It wasn't as entertaining as eavesdropping on the conversation that was going on in the kitchen. It couldn't really be considered eavesdropping since they weren't making any effort to keep him from hearing what they were talking about.

"Malik!" Isis shrieked. "What are you doing?"

"Adding sugar!" was Malik's cheerful response.

"To fish, Malik?" Isis asked in disbelief. "And what did you do to the salad? What are these things you added in there behind my back?"

"Oh! Those are gumdrops and gummy worms!"

"And just what is that?"

"Oh, that?"

"Yes, that!"

"Chocolate frosting!"

A pause. Then, "Out! Get out of my kitchen, Malik! Out! Out! Out!"

As comical as it was, Marik was seriously doubting staying there for dinner tonight. Maybe tomorrow would prove to be less—sugary.

To be continued…

Notes:

1 – Some of you may wonder as to why Yami doesn't just get a job there instead of volunteering, and that's probably because you forgot that in Japan, you can't have a after-school job, and I'm assuming that volunteering is okay –smiles sheepishly-

I always considered Malik a sugar freak like me! I know I haven't updated for a long time, but really! I had this chapter typed up a while ago—well, not really. It's more like I had three pages, but couldn't decide on whether to post it up or not since it seemed so filler-ish and pointless. Then I started typing again, and it went from 3 to 9 pages. I'm so proud! I'll try to update more, but I can't make any promises. Reviews do make me happy and just might make me update faster. You wouldn't know if you don't try.

- Starflower Sakura