Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!
Hikaris will be referred to as: Yugi, Ryou, and Malik.
Yamis will be referred to as: Yami, Bakura, and Marik.
Everyone else will go by their japanese names: Jounouchi or Jou instead of Joey, Honda instead of Tristan, Anzu instead of Tea etc.
The whole yamis-having-bodies thing: I know that none of the yamis actually have their own bodies in either the manga or anime, but for the sake of my story they do. I'm not going to mention how they got them (i.e. I haven't come up with a background story for it), just try to think of it in an AU way. In other words, take this story with a grain of salt when it deviates from the actual cartoon or manga as those deviations are intentional (unless otherwise stated). That said, there is a bit of OOCness on Bakura's part, though I've tried to keep it minimal and explain in the storyline why he's being OOC.
Japanese words and their translations:
hikari: light
yami: darkness
tenshi: angel
kaji: fire
yuki: snow
yukineko: snow-cat
"If you're late tonight, hikari, you'll regret it! Remember last night? Think last night 10 times worse!" Bakura yelled after Ryou, gratified at the terrified look the boy threw over his shoulder. While turning to go back inside, Bakura's sneaker bumped against a small cardboard box set to one side of the door. Picking it up, the yami noticed the colorful custom's stickers, noting the word 'Egypt' on several of them. Ryou's father sent him something? Bakura thought, reading the older man's name in the return address.
The yami wasted no time thumping it down on the kitchen table and slicing it open with the hunting knife he always kept in his belt. What he saw inside brought a gleam of greed to his experienced thief's eye. The morning light flashed off the ornate sculpted curves of the golden mini shackles he lifted from the packing foam.
Bakura let them dangle from his fingers by the thumb-width chain connecting the cuffs, feeling just a touch disappointed they were too small for even Ryou's slender wrists. Not very practical, gold is not strong enough to properly bind someone. Then again, only a child or a really shrimpy female slave could wear them, so maybe they would work. the yami reasoned, admiring the skill employed in the rune-like carvings spilling across the shackles' surface.
Hmmmm, wonder what I could get for these? Eh? What's this? Bakura wondered, spotting the vanilla-colored envelope half-buried in packing materials. Shrugging, he grabbed it, carrying both of the package's contents in the living room where he promptly flopped on the couch.
Dear Son,
I hope this letter finds you well. I'm afraid I won't be coming home anytime soon, you wouldn't believe all the artifacts we found in our latest dig! The cataloging along will take months! Anyway, I picked these up from the market place for you. I truly don't know why, I just seemed drawn to them and KNEW they were meant for you. Think of them as a conversation piece—I can't imagine using them for anything else! If nothing else the workmanship on them is brilliant—best I've seen in quite awhile. Enjoy!
P.S. the enclosed papers are copies of a partial scroll that was found along with the shackles. I've translated it, but can't make heads or tales of its meaning. Maybe your cousin Bakura can help? I know he reads hieroglyphs like an old pro!
Intrigued, Bakura unfolded the copy of the scroll-hieroglyphs. After a few minutes of intense reading, a huge smile of sadistic joy spread across his face.
"Bakura I'm sorry I'm late." Ryou called frantically as he burst through the door 15 minutes late, hoping to slightly appease his yami. Never mind he was late because of the limp Bakura had given him during last night's beating, even mildly sprained ankles tended to slow one down. Instead of an enraged yami he was met with utter silence.
Frowning, Ryou dropped his backpack and jacket on the kitchen table and checked the living room. Nope, no yami there; the snow-haired teen got the same results after checking the basement, bedrooms, and bathroom. I hope he's not lying in wait for me like he did last week. Ryou thought with a shudder at the memory.
Bakura had been feeling creative that night—matter of fact the lines cut into his back forming Bakura's cartouche still hadn't healed completely. Every time the boy took a shower he was painfully reminded of that.
Forcing himself to relax Ryou closed his eyes and mentally touched the thin, sickly Bond between them just long enough to show him Bakura was several miles away. "Oh!" The teen cried softly in delight, profound relief washing the unconscious tension from his sore muscles.
Ryou hummed softly to himself as he made dinner, glad he didn't need to worry about Bakura dragging him off for his nightly beating before he could eat what he cooked. The loose state of his pants around the waist and the gauntness of his face attested to how often his yami did just that. To be able to enjoy a quiet meal by himself without Bakura's malevolent and acidic presence hanging over him was a treasure Ryou thought lost to him.
"Bakura why does it have to be this way?" Ryou wondered aloud sadly as he did the dishes, which were becoming ever more scarce as Bakura thought it great fun to lob them at a target he drew on the kitchen wall. In the sixth months since Bakura got his own body nearly everything breakable ended up in pieces under that target—only items of value were spared and that only due to Bakura's thief's eye. No good thief would destroy something valuable he could later sell.
Good thing 'Kura doesn't know about the storage building I rented. I had to find a safe place for my father's REALLY valuable artifacts and my own important, though not valuable, keepsakes. Ryou smiled at that reminder of his own cleverness—he couldn't often outsmart his cunning yami. A pity I can't find somewhere like that to put myself. thought the boy sadly, a gusty sigh escaping him.
Ryou held up his sudsy hands, foamy bubbles slipping over numerous thin scars scattered over his forearms, each one an unwanted souvenir of a particularly harsh beating. His yami generally left him with bruises; only in his more sadistic moments did he cut his hikari.
Three times in those six months Ryou had to stay in the hospital from what 'Kura did to him—once when his yami practically shattered his left arm from wrist to shoulder (it still ached horribly whenever it rained), a second time for blood loss when Bakura went overboard with the knife (he needed a transfusion and almost 200 stitches), and finally when his dark half punched him so hard in the gut he ruptured Ryou's spleen (emergency surgery and over a week in the hospital). All three times Ryou nearly died, but he always returned to Bakura once he fully recovered (he stayed with Yugi and Yami once released from the hospital, who had offered more than once to let him stay permanently so Yami could protect him.).
I wish I could stand up to him, but to really do that I'd need to hurt him. Anything else just wouldn't work, but I can't hurt him. Ryou mourned, the pain in his heart worse than anything physical Bakura did to him. Gods, oh GODS I'm such an idiot for loving him. Especially since he hates me. Please Gods, if you are listening I-- The hikari didn't even know what to plead the Gods for, only that he wanted the raw emotional wound in his soul to stop bleeding, so that he didn't constantly feel an echoing void within him where his yami's presence should have been.
"Gods, if you are listening please find a way to bring 'Kura and I together as true yami and hikari—like Yami and Yugi." He whispered, the trembling strength of his love for his yami woven into the words. Now, if only Someone was listening. . . .