A/N: Edited for grammatical errors on 10/23/2017
Rating: T for violence, character death, language, and possible sexual situations in the future
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Romance, Tragedy
Pairing: Tendershipping, past Redshipping, and hints of Thiefshipping and Angstshipping with canon Puppyshipping on the side
"One in the Same"
by nepentheosileus
Long strands of silvery-white danced in the harsh wind, twisting, curling, and intertwining beautifully. Pale fingers wrapped around the golden trinket dangling from a rope around his slim neck, gripping it securely, protectively. His lips parted in a lecherous smile, revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth that glinted in the moonlight like a set of new knives. Reddish-brown eyes ablaze with his characteristic malicious intent, he tossed a look over his shoulder at the Egyptian spirit behind him.
"Marik," he called lowly, his voice not unlike that of a hissing snake. The Egyptian raised his breath-taking lilac eyes in acknowledgement, jaw clenched in a concentrated frown. "On my mark, I want you to force yourself into your body."
The spirit sighed, raking a tanned hand through his blonde hair. "Don't you think I would have done that by now? It's not that simple." He glanced back at his possessed body, meeting the blood-thirsty eyes of his crazed alter ego.
Rays of golden light began to spill from the Millennium Ring in waves, engulfing its holder like a blanket. He raised the item up, one side facing himself and the other Marik's body. "Just do what I say, you fool!" The whitette snarled, shooting the spirit a vicious glare.
Blonde locks whipped violently as the powerful magic began to radiate through the air, the wind whirling harder and louder. Black-rimmed eyes once again found their owner's body as he calculated any and all possible options and outcomes, his darker half raising the Millennium Rod, preparing to attack. "This wasn't a part of the plan," he huffed stubbornly, though with the slight incline of his head, he agreed.
The light shot out suddenly, hitting the Egyptian's body directly on the Eye of Horus mark on his forehead. Before wide lilac eyes, the very soul of the yami was ripped from its vessel, and at that moment the whitette shouted an urgent "now, Marik!". The spirit broke out into a sprint, darting forward and diving into the now empty shell of a body, quickly and easily regaining control. He blinked his eyes into focus, turning his attention back to his ally.
Just as with his own, the white-haired boy's yami was sucked out of its container and was pulled into the Ring. His body collapsed to the ground, falling face-first and with an audible 'thump'.
"Ba… Bakura?!"
Soft pink lips pursed in deep thought, pigmentless eyebrows drawn in a considerate furrow. Slender fingers pale as snow fisted at the hem of his school uniform blazer, his indoor shoes tap-tap-tapping at the floor in a quiet, even rhythm. Distracted from the still reality surrounding him, Bakura Ryou sat in a tense not-quite silence, immersed in thoughts of no importance to the average sixteen year old.
The scuffling of shoes accompanied the ringing of the school bell, and the whitette dazedly began to pack away his supplies into his briefcase. A shadow soon formed over him, however, and he glanced up to meet the golden eyes of Jounouchi Katsuya.
"Heya, Bakura," the blonde teen greeted with a friendly grin. He snatched up a few stray pieces of paper from Ryou's desk and organized them into a neat stack, handing them over to the smaller boy once done. "We," he jutted a hand behind him at the slowly gathering Yuugi-tachi, "were gonna head to the arcade. Feel up to it?"
"Thanks," Ryou murmured appreciatively as he slipped the papers into his case. Chocolate brown eyes blinked and looked away in an attempt to fight down nervousness. He cleared his throat of the lump that had settled there. "Uhm, not today, Jounouchi-kun, though thank you for the offer." Wrapping a pale hand around the handle to his case, the Brit stood with a flawed grace only he himself could pull off and nodded a goodbye to his friend. A gentle but firm grip on his forearm stopped him short of leaving, however, and a strangled yelp spilled from his suddenly tangled vocal cords.
Jounouchi let go almost immediately, recoiling with a noticeable flinch as if burned. "Ah, sorry. I forgot," he apologized with a pointed look at Ryou's arm. "I just wanted to ask… Erm, well, that is… I was wondering…" He bites his lower lip nervously. "Has… Has you-know-who come back?"
A pleasant smile played across Ryou's face, his eyes crinkling in sincerity. "No, he hasn't. I would have told you if he did. After all, we're friends, aren't we?"
"Yeah, of course. Anyway, maybe some other day then." A scratch to the head.
"Perhaps." The slightly shorter boy once again nodded his head and turned to leave, saying a quiet "good day" to the passing Yuugi-tachi before walking swiftly to the door. Yuugi smiled brightly at him and tapped a finger on his ear; Ryou returned the action and slipped silently into the hallway, ignoring Marik Ishtar's lilac eyes boring into his back, and went to retrieve his shoes.
It felt nice to know that his friends cared for him, that they worried. He'd never had anyone fuss over him in such a way, and though it was almost smothering at first, it had become comfortable, almost typical. Yet most of all, it pleased him, the fact that he could have readily agreed to going out that afternoon. There would be no consequences, no punishment to be dealt nor a single person injured. He was free, if only for the time being, and freedom was something to be valued, rare as it was.
Though he hadn't taken advantage of it. Not a single day or night did he do as he would have killed to do just a month or so ago, and from the looks of it, he didn't think he would. Something was holding him back with an iron grasp. Perhaps it was the underlying feeling of doom, as though this was only the calm before the storm. Was the world really so cruel as to dangle this freedom before him before yanking it away? He didn't dare doubt it. Was it impossible for him to be happy, if just for a while?
He felt like he was going to return, angrier than ever, and destroy all of the happiness he'd built up in his absence.
He as in Yami Bakura.
For the past two weeks, a calming peace had blanketed Ryou in false security. Ever since the end of Battle City, he'd been Ryou, simply and completely Ryou. There was no darker side, no evil half, no terror or murder or bloodshed. He was safe. And somehow, that scared him more so than anything else.
Nothing made sense anymore; not that anything ever truly did. But now, not only was he left to seek the answer to the question of "where?", but the question of "why?". Why did Ryou's yami sacrifice himself? For what purpose did he willingly destroy himself? Surely there was an ulterior motive.
The spirit of the Millennium Ring was supposed to be evil.
He wasn't supposed to sacrifice himself for anyone, let alone Marik Ishtar.
No one understood it, not even the Egyptian himself. According to him, that was never a part of their plan nor would it ever have been; it had been just as much a surprise to him as the rest of the Yuugi-tachi. There were so many questions, all lacking in answers. Was the spirit dead? If not, then where was he?
Ryou sighed, tucking a loose strand of white hair behind his ear. As his apartment slowly morphed into view, he picked up his pace ever so slightly and hurried inside. He toed off his shoes and dropped his keys on the kitchen counter on his way to fetch a snack, setting a kettle of water for some tea onto the stove and grabbing an apple, some peanut butter, and a knife. "Hmm," he hummed as he plopped down onto a chair at the table. "What should we have for dinner, then…?"
"Do you talk to yourself often?"
Slip. The knife pierced his skin, drawing a steady trickle of crimson. "A-ah!" Swivelling around in his chair, Ryou brought his bleeding thumb to his lips as he met the bored face of his father. "W-what are you doing here?"
"Well," his father drawled, slumping onto the kitchen doorframe, "I live here."
"You could have at least called to tell me you were coming home." Ryou stood and pattered over to the sink, running the water cold and allowing it to wash over his finger. Biting his lip, whether from the pain or his words he wasn't quite sure, he glanced at the window that rested in the wall before him at his father's reflection. The man took a swig from the beer he hadn't noticed him holding and lumbered over to the table, stealing his son's seat and taking a large bite from his apple. Ryou sighed inaudibly.
"I would've," 'no he wouldn't', "but it was sudden." The older man said, wheezing out a boisterous cough. Once his fit ceased, he chased it down with another chug of his toxic drink and continued. "A tomb we were in collapsed on us. Threw out my back completely. I was knocked out for a whole two days."
Then, a mumble. "And in those two days no one thought to call me?"
He knew his father heard based on the threatening expression that bloomed on his face, though no more words were spoken of the subject; 'how typical of him', Ryou thought, heading to the bathroom to grab a bandaid. His father's voice reached him a few moments later. "So who is we then, if you didn't know I was here?"
Blinking in confusion, the whitette returned to the kitchen, bandaid sticking to his finger. "What do you mean?"
"Earlier. You said 'what should we have for dinner'." The man frowned as he finished his beer, turning to Ryou expectantly. The younger sighed and replaced the empty bottle with a new one from the fridge. "You got an imaginary friend or something?" He smirked, popping the top and throwing his head back for a swig.
Did it always have to be like this? Ryou bit his lip; was that what they were calling it now? Last time it was "hearing voices, eh Ry?" and the time before that it was "get yourself a girlfriend? Well that's a surprise.". Every time, every single time he would slip up and speak aloud to the spirit of the Millennium Ring, his father seemed to jump at the opportunity to make some snide comment.
It had worried him at first; 'what would the spirit do?' But now it was just annoying.
It was also annoying how after two weeks without his yami, he was still talking to him.
"No, I don't," he mumbled as the tea kettle began to scream. Fixing his cup of tea with extra cream, just as he liked it, he tottered up the stairs to his room, wishing to never have to leave and see his father. As he passed the mirror on his wall, he stopped and peered at his reflection, a small smile gracing his lips. His new earrings stare back at him lifelessly.
"Bakura-kun!"
Stifling a yawn, Ryou twirled on his heel and smiled gently at Yuugi, the smaller boy trotting up to him cheerily. Waiting until his friend stopped just at his side, he slowly turned to resume his walk down the crowded school hallway. "Good morning, Yuugi-kun," he greeted, stopping at his shoe locker.
Yuugi grinned and opened his own locker just feet away, clumsily kicking off a shoe and hopping around on a single foot for a moment as he attempted to replace it. "Morning!" He squeaked as he slipped, and Ryou quickly swooped in and grabbed his arm before he could tumble to the floor. The tri-color haired boy winked as he righted himself. "I meant to do that."
Giggling, the taller boy shook his head playfully. "You're going to seriously hurt yourself one of these days," he said, removing his own dirty sneakers and putting on his indoor shoes. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Marik Ishtar enter, briefcase flung over his shoulder and observant gaze finding him immediately from where he stood. He gulped and looked away.
He'd heard from the Yuugi-tachi about Battle City. How Marik had joined forces with Yami Bakura to plot against the Pharaoh and eventually to overthrow his own alter ego, and how they'd even set his own body on the line while doing so. It made him uncomfortable. The way Marik always watched him, as if seeing through him, prying into his soul. Ryou knew what he was looking for, of course, and maybe this knowledge only made the feeling worsen; Marik was looking for the spirit, waiting with a silent desperation for the moment that he would return.
Ryou bit his lip, unconsciously bringing his right hand to lightly clasp his opposite forearm over the wound that had been purposely inflicted on him by his yami and the Egyptian tomb keeper.
"What's wrong, Bakura-kun?" Piped a soft voice from beside him, violet-tipped black hair appearing in his line of view. He looked down at Yuugi. "Is your arm bothering you?"
"Ah," Ryou shut his locker door, averting his gaze to the floor. "It's fine. Just… stings a bit, I suppose." 'Stings my emotions', he adds internally.
Yuugi frowned sympathetically, tilting his head to the side. "I wish I could have stopped them from hurting you…" His eyelids flutter in realisation. "Oh, that reminds me!" The small boy bent down, opening his briefcase and digging through it for a moment. A spare deck of Duel Monsters cards, playing cards, a bag of jacks, five Capsule Monsters, four die are easily seen within. Finally, he grinned, pulling out a small black box and handing it over to Ryou. "So we can always be with you." He informed his friend as he opened the gift carefully. "To protect you."
Ryou's heart skipped a beat as he gazed down at the small golden triangle earrings.
The Millennium Puzzle glints. The British boy smiles and mumbles a "thank you" to Yuugi, though his eyes stay glued to the Puzzle around the smaller's neck until he turns away, skipping over to Mazaki Anzu. 'You're watching over me, aren't you, Pharaoh?' Ryou thinks, tightening his grip around the small box.
His free hand reaches for the Millennium Ring.
'Are you watching too, Spirit?'
As he leaves to homeroom, he notes that someone else is watching as well. Someone else being the ever-present Marik Ishtar.
Ryou's soft smile at the memory soon twists into a frown.
He needed to get out, to do something. A distraction; a distraction from these thoughts, thoughts of Marik and the spirit and his father. Maybe it wasn't too late to head over to the arcade and meet with the Yuugi-tachi, he decided as he quickly gulped down his tea despite the burning sensation it sent throughout his mouth and throat. Stopping only to change from his school uniform to his regular clothes, Ryou raced down the stairs and out the door, shoes and keys attained.
Two cars whizz by. A bird tweets. Humming, he attempted to keep his mind set on a song he liked. He ducked into the woods, a shortcut, and walked a shrubby pathway for a few minutes before stepping out onto the street again.
Beeeeep!
His head snaps to the side, eyes catching the horrific sight of a car speeding straight towards him. Its tires squeal loudly, as the driver must have been stepping hard on the brakes.
Heart leaping into his throat, Ryou froze in place, his brown eyes wide. Was this how it was going to end? So suddenly and unexpectedly, like everything else in his life? He licked his dry lips, forcing his eyes shut, hands fisting at his sides. The screeching of wheels on cement reached his ears faster and louder, faster, louder, louder, too close, and he sucked in a deep breath, idly wondering if it was his last.
'Help me…'
'Please…'
'I don't want to die…'
'...Spirit..!'
He waited for the impact, yet nothing happened. Heart racing with fear, with adrenaline and confusion, possibly hope, he hesitantly allowed his eyelids to flutter open.
They opened to the eerily still and familiar room of his soul.
His translucent body appeared as it always did; sitting cross-legged in the center of the small room, completely lacking in clothes, though temperature was of no issue inside one's mind. Stretching out around him was a black floor, solid despite seeming like it was built out of nothingness, and lining the walls was a large glass display case that ran from floor to ceiling, containing multitudes of Monster World action figures; it never ceased to irk him how they represented the souls that his yami had taken and sealed within them. The lighting was relatively bright, though not overbearingly so, as any Hikari's room would be, and it glinted off of the many small picture frames strewn across the floor.
'I'm not dead', he thinks suddenly, glancing behind him at the large glass door that lead to the hallway of his mind. Through it, the door to the second Soul Room was visible; a gigantic golden slab, chipped and dusty with age, engraved with hieroglyphics of the ancient world. Slowly turning around, Ryou stood, crossing the floor and pushing open his thin glass door - symbolizing his breakability and fragileness, he knew - before pausing in the hallway.
"Spirit..." He murmured quietly, and it sounded like a piercing scream in the utter silence that surrounded him. Was Yami Bakura back? Had he saved him? Perhaps the spirit had taken control of his body; after all, those were the only times he'd ever wound up here. Inhaling deeply, he reached up with one of his long, slender white arms and placed the palm of his hand hesitantly upon the cool golden surface before him.
It was a few moments later that he finally decided to push on it.
The door let out an obnoxious groan as Ryou placed his second hand on it and pushed with all of his might, which, mind you, wasn't all that much. A freezing cold gust of wind slipped out from the slowly forming gap between the wall and the slab of gold, ravaging the boy's body and chilling him to the bone; it was strange, he thought, how such a thing was even possible in his mind, especially since it had never been that way before.
"Hal eada, alls?" Whispered a low, airy voice in a foreign tongue unknown to Ryou; it didn't take too long for him to guess it was ancient Egyptian. The sound crawled under his skin, sending shivers scraping down his spinal cord.
As the door creaked open, the insides of the room became more visible, despite the utter lack of lighting; an old tomb, filled with piles among piles of jewels and golden treasures that glinted in the dim light that slipped in from the doorway. Shadows danced about the room, swinging from the ceiling and flying towards the only living feature of the room; although to Ryou, they seemed plenty alive. If he looked close enough, it almost seemed as though they had faces, staring lifelessly back at him with pleading and mournful expressions, their dark hands reaching out at him in a silent beckoning.
A form lurked in the center of the room, an entity formed solely of shadows and darkness. It seemed to gaze at him, though he had no way of knowing this. However, as it appeared that his yami was nowhere in sight, he took the liberty in assuming the one speaking to him was this entity.
"Im takkun alllus... walikann alssafinat alssariq, la?"
Despite the lack of understanding in the words, Ryou felt an immense panic begin to rise inside of him as the shadow slowly slithered towards him, its long whisps of darkness circling around his body; his soul. His breath hitched in his throat as something that greatly resembled a hand caressed his cheek, leaving a trail of ice in its wake.
"'Aetaqid 'ann ealayk 'an tafeal..."
The wispy hand then dissolved into a string of smoke-like shadow, and just as Ryou finally drew in a shaky breath, it clung to the air as if glued and slipped past his parted lips. He gasped, clutching at his throat, and the shadows around him began to screech unbearably loud, shattering the silence like a sledgehammer to glass. His false eardrums began to flare with mysterious agony from the ear-splitting noise, and he didn't bother wondering how he was able to feel the pain. All that mattered was the horrid sound and making it stop.
Doubling over, he slid his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as a rippling scream escaped from his mouth.
"...ou... Ry... Ryou!"
Snapping his eyelids open, Ryou immediately locked his sight on the lilac orbs hovering mere inches above his face. Marik Ishtar stared back at him, slim blonde eyebrows drawn in concern.
"Thank Ra you're alright!" The accented voice breathed, the scent of mint reaching Ryou's nostrils. Marik raked a tanned hand through his mane of oddly light colored hair, sighing in what appeared to be overwhelming relief. "I thought you were dead for a moment there, as your body was completely still and unreactive, and then suddenly you were screaming bloody murder. Scared the living daylights out of me."
Ryou blinked, pushing against the Egyptian's chest gently so as to get him to move, before sitting up and bringing a hand to his pulsing head. He groaned in pain, rubbing at his temples. "W-what happened..?" He murmured softly, lifting his gaze up to meet the other's.
"Ah," Marik wagged a finger in disapproval, "you really should be more careful! I just about ran you over!"
Fixing his gaze on the car that sat only feet away from where he was on the pavement, Ryou gulped, memories of a nearly forgotten experience returning to him. To think he'd nearly forgotten such a thing... "I'm sorry... I must have caused you quite a bit of trouble..." He moved to stand, wobbling on his feet momentarily before righting himself.
"I suspect you might have fainted back there. I didn't even hit you," the Egyptian said as he slid an arm under one of Ryou's in support. "You should go back home; errands can wait until you've regained your health. I'll drive you." He lead Ryou to the passenger side of the car, holding open the door and assisting him inside.
Ryou chose not to respond, instead leaning back against the cool leather seat and fastening his safety belt around his torso. Watching as Marik jogged around the front of the vehicle, a frown spread across his lips. Back, he'd said, back home. As if implying that he knew he'd just come from his apartment. Or maybe he'd only assumed since Ryou had changed out of his school uniform? Or maybe them meeting here was no coincidence after all; he wouldn't put it past the foreigner to stalk him.
Sighing, he attempted to clear his head. It was just paranoia. He was being ridiculous.
Marik slid into the driver's side and revved up the engine, doing a quick U-turn and starting a steady drive towards Ryou's apartment complex. The Brit blinked back his sudden fear, gripping the handle of the door beside him firmly; just in case. His brain pounded at his skull as if trying to break free, and he brought his free hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was as though his head was submerged in murky water, all clouded and foggy.
"'Ant li alan..."
Gasping for breath, he attempted to get air back into his suddenly winded lungs. Head swimming violently, he leaned his forehead against the cool window, panting harshly. Through the haze, he could hear Marik's worried voice inquiring him of his current state. Everything burned. His mind burned, his hands, feet, stomach, chest; everything. It was as though someone had lit a match in his soul, forcing scorching hot flames to radiate throughout his entire being. He wanted desperately to scream, yet no words nor sounds were released past his lips and gritted teeth.
And then there was a hand on his shoulder, and the fire was extinguished. He turned slowly to Marik, the one person he'd been avoiding these past few weeks with a passion, and was greeted with all the concern he'd ever wish to receive from someone. Lilac eyes sparkled with sincerity as he uttered the words, "are you okay?".
"I," licking his dry lips, Ryou nodded slightly, "I believe so..." Gaze turning back to the front, he noted that the car was parked just before his apartment and his gut twisted. "H-how..." Lifting a trembling finger, he pointed outside of the windshield.
"What do you - oh." Marik bit his lip, a feat Ryou saw from his peripherals, and undid his safety belt. "Well I live here too. Temporarily, of course. But I've seen you around here before, so... It's not like I'm... stalking you or anything..." He trailed off, his words apparently dying on his tongue, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Anyways."
Not wanting to be in the same small space as the Egyptian teenager any longer, the albino quickly unfastened his own belt and wrenched the car door open, stepping out on his half-numb legs. "W-well, thank you for your assistance, but I'd best be going now. If you'll excuse me..." And with that he slammed the door with a bit more force than necessary and stumbled to the apartment entrance. He refused to look back, lest he meet the piercing gaze of the other.
A/N: I do not speak arabic or ancient Egyptian. I used Google Translate to create the "ancient Egyptian" dialogue, and we all know that Google Translate is in no way, shape, or form reliable. A person who speaks fluent arabic would likely not be able to fully decipher the text seen in bold above, as it makes just about no sense. So I'm just gonna call it ancient Egyptian and hope no one gets pissed at me over it.
I'd love to hear any feedback or criticism. Review(?)