Three imposing figures cut through the crowded school hallway, parting the other students like a sea of hormones and greasy hair. They were all of about the same height, though taller than the rest of the student body, and wore their superiority the way they wore their school uniforms – obviously.

"It kills me to say this, but for once I'm glad to be back in this hellhole," the teen with the bad bleach job spat, glaring about him as if daring someone to challenge him. The two boys walking beside him exchanged incredulous looks. Noticing them, he explained, "I was being driven to insanity by my rotten excuse for a caretaker."

"I do hate to disillusion you, Bakura," began Yami, the one with the precisely gelled spikes of black and red hair and the enormous chip on his shoulder, "But you hit insanity a while back."

"Small fucking wonder in a place like this," the third, Marik, piped up, his disdain for their educational establishment only rivalled by his disdain for combing his hair, apparently.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Yami mused, eyes raking the hallway. Of all of the girls whose eyes he happened to catch, a vast majority appeared to be visibly intimidated. Some even dropped their belongings, poor things. "God bless the Schoolgirl Stereotype. They're like little pieces of scenery, really." Having said his piece, he slipped a compact mirror out of his back pocket and used it to examine his gravity-defying hairstyle. Running a hand through to make sure that it hadn't hardened too much on his walk to school, he deemed himself sufficiently glamorous and tucked his mirror away.

"Tool," Unruly Hair quipped, jamming an elbow into his friend's side with so much force that it almost didn't seem friendly. It was, of course. That was just how Marik operated.

"Hypocrite," he shot back, "I distinctly remember recommending to you my brand of hair gel when you wanted to impress that Malik kid."

"Bakura, please tell me that Yami did not just mention Malik to me."

Bakura put a finger to his chin. "It's so strange. Marik. Malik. Do either of you think that's, like, kind of messed up? Pretty sure he's blond like you, too."

Yami and Marik simply pretended not to hear Bakura in favor of engaging in the same fight they'd been having for most of their relationship. Marik held that it was only manly to care about your appearance when you were trying to impress someone. Yami held that Marik was sad, misguided, and had internalized his low self-esteem to the point where he no longer thought looking good was possible. Marik didn't have low self-esteem at all, he would argue. In fact, Marik loved himself to the point where he knew he looked awesome without any effort at all, so why bother? This would throw Yami into absolute fits. The rest is almost unworthy of note. They had danced this particular dance so often that they would regularly recycle entire sections of dialogue. Lather, rinse, repeat.

On this particular occasion, however, their argument was unexpectedly interrupted. At the exact moment that he would have made his point about the importance of setting an example for loyal wannabes, someone came crashing into Yami, making him stumble backwards a bit while the kid who'd ran into him fell heavily with a distressed cry.

"Uh," Yami articulated, staring down at what was probably his doppelganger. Or his long lost twin. In fact, Yami was just beginning to suspect evil twin when those wide, apologetic eyes rose to meet his. His entire world ground to a complete standstill before the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

"I'm so completely sorry! Oh, gosh!" the kid was babbling over and over, snatching up his books and collecting himself, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Yami chuckled at the thought. "Not at all. Are you alright?" Turning his charm all the way up, he reached out a hand to smooth a lock of dark hair behind the other's ear.

The boy simply stared up at him, wide-eyed and confused. "Why are you touching me?"

Yami pulled his hand back in shock, but he quickly recovered his composure. "Can you blame me? Your hair just looks so soft…," he lowered his voice and brought his face closer to the boy's, batting his eyelashes, "And you look so touchable."

"Well, thanks!" the boy said, nodding his head and pushing past them, disappearing in the throng of students in the hallway.

Yami stood rooted to the spot while Bakura and Marik lost their fucking minds.

"My advances have never been ignored before," Yami whispered, awed, to himself. Absently, his hand slipped into his back pocket, and he brought his compact mirror back out. "Who was that kid?"

The trio of high school royals met up outside of the gymnasium around the middle of the day to talk shit on what classes they had and who was in them. Yami and Marik were bitching and moaning about their shared history class all the way there, but they stopped when they saw the deviously pleased look on Bakura's face.

"Bakura," Yami began cautiously, "You have the same look on your face that you had when you burned down the record store you used to work in."

"This, while not nearly as gratifying, is still pretty good," Bakura told them, "Ryou is in my gym class."

"That little kid who used to come into the internet café every day and just scroll through endless cat pictures online?" Marik asked.

"That little kid who totally had you buying him fancy coffee every day at the internet café because you thought he would eventually be grateful enough to blow you in the men's bathroom?" Yami asked.

"Both correct!" Bakura announced gleefully, rubbing his hands together, "Let the seduction continue. Does stealing his pants technically count as getting into them?"

"No. In any stretch of imagination, no," Yami informed him, "Anyway, good for you, blah blah, what do you have next?"

"Math," Marik spat, "But at least you both are coming, too?"

"Just Bakura," Yami frowned, looking at his schedule, "I was put in remedial again."

"Christ Almighty, Yami, you ever gonna not be dumb?" Bakura asked in disappointment.

"Sorry, doesn't look like it." Yami shrugged his shoulders. "I'm off to remedial bio. I'll see you guys at lunch."

He waved goodbye to his friends and managed to make it five steps down the hallway when, suddenly, girls were swarming all around him, giggling and staring at him as he went by. Where had all of these students been a few seconds ago? Yami admired their tenacity and their tendency towards stealth. He'd missed the fangirls all summer. They inflated his ego and made him feel as wonderful as he looked. "Ah, attention," he mused aloud, casting his gaze around at them all, "Ladies, ladies, how are we today?"

The giggling rose in volume, and those closest to him began to chatter away, but he didn't really need to listen to them. A few well placed "really"s and "wonderful"s were all it took to make them feel special, anyway, so why try harder for the same effect?

Up ahead, Yami spotted the kid from the hallway earlier, headed towards one of the abandoned stairwells. Curiosity piqued, he waved goodbye to his entourage and followed. Was this kid one of the stoner rejects who got high between classes? The only kids who used the abandoned stairwells were the ones who were smoking or shooting up. Unless he just didn't know, which was also possible. The kid looked really young.

Yami peeked through the window on the door. Beyond the glass, Yami could see some giant behemoth of a kid standing way too close to the littler kid, who appeared to just be attempting to get around him and climb the stairs. Okay, so he didn't know.

Booting the door open, Yami strode into the stairwell with a powerful yell of "what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

The enormous kid – Ushio, Yami recognized the most infamous school bully from all of his remedial classes – recoiled from the smaller kid as if his hand had been burned. "Nothin', Yami, just bein' friendly an' letting this new kid know that me and my crew own this stairwell, that's all." His words were clumsy and clunky; he was an obvious liar.

Yami cocked one sharp eyebrow, frowning. "Yes, well, why don't you step aside so we can pass? I'll see that he doesn't make the mistake of coming this way in the future."

Ushio's face lit up in delighted relief. "Thanks a bunch, Yami, sir, have a good one!" And he was off in a flash, faster than you could say "Marik once burned his eyebrows off for taking their lunch table". Much faster, actually. And almost a quarter of the time it took to say "Bakura broke into his house, stole his dog, and seduced his mother last year."

"Sorry about that," Yami said once they were alone, "Are you alright?"

"Well," the kid replied, taking a few steps closer to Yami, his books clutched tightly to his chest, "Yeah, I guess. He didn't manage to give me the "ass-beatin' I deserve", so I'd say I'm much better off than I'd be if you hadn't scared him off."

Yami's eyes darkened. "He said that to you?" He quickly filed a mental note that this was a lesson that Marik and Bakura should teach Ushio together.

"I've heard worse," the kid shrugged, "I'm Yuugi, by the way. Yuugi Mutou."

"Atem Ahknemkhanen," Yami replied, "But everyone calls me Yami."

Yuugi smiled up at him, and Yami was struck by how innocent Yuugi looked when he smiled. He'd been a bit glib about Ushio's threats, which worried Yami. How could such a sweet-looking kid be the target of violence and bullying like that? "Well, Yami," Yuugi replied, holding out his hand, "I'm headed to remedial biology. Want to walk me there?"

Yami was surprised by Yuugi's forwardness, but his game was too strong to be thrown by the likes of sweet little Yuugi. "Turns out, that's where I'm going, too." He took Yuugi's hand, so small in his palm. "But I would have walked you anywhere, Yuugi."

A/N:

Hey, old friends! And perhaps some new friends as well, if this update brings SFLE to the top of the pile and attracts attention. Welcome to my chapter 1 reboot! I wanted to remake the first chapter of SFLE for many reasons, one being that my writing style and skill has greatly improved in the 6 or 7 years it's been since I worked on this project. Another is because SFLE still holds a large place in my heart. Another is because I have almost an extra decade of experience to bring to the table in my writing, and I thought the juxtaposition would be nice.

I haven't decided if I'm going to remake more chapters yet, but I just might!