No, I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!
Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.
And yes, this is AU. The Earth in this fanfic is not the same Earth we are currently residing in.
I bended some religious references to fit the plot of the story. If anyone is offended, please do not read.
This contains shonen-ai (malexmale relationship). Please do not force yourself to read it if you do not like it.
Italic indicates a part of the story that happened in the past or someone's thoughts.
And now, the story:
Redemption
Chapter one: The wait.
It was a cool night.
The light rain and soft wind dispelled the usual air of dust and car exhaust that surrounded the city. Just for one moment, an individual could momentarily forget about the heavy atmosphere of industrialization and relished on the simple gift of Mother Nature.
However, life went on, and many failed to catch that simple beauty. They all continued with their lives, too absorbed in their own world to pause and observe the horizon beyond their advance technology.
Different shades of umbrellas and raincoats moved up and down the sidewalks, rushing, blending into one another, ignoring the countless droplets of water that begged them to linger and grasp on to the simplicity of life. Cars honked at one another; as if their impatience would make the traffic jam mysteriously vanished.
Bakura walked downtown, not having a particular destination. Clad in only his baby blue striped T-shirt and dark jeans, he went on bravely; the rain caressed his skin and soaked his clothes—making them cling uncomfortably, but he did not care.
He could not feel it. The rain.
He could feel it physically. But eternities of the same routine had taken away his ability to truly feel.
That was his life.
Bakura walked toward the park; his brain was still in a fog, unable to fully comprehend where he was or what he was doing. Only when his left knee bumped into a hard metal bench did he stop, so startled in the sharp pain that shot up his leg that he paused to take in the new physical feeling.
He studied his knee for a moment—at the spot that hit the bench. The pain had dimmed down to a light sting by now.
Bakura frowned, as if he could not understand why he could feel pain.
Suddenly he looked up, just realizing that he was walking without a purpose. Again.
He glanced at his surroundings. By now, his mind had started to grasp the fact that he was currently in a park.
The sound of crickets; the dark shadows of the trees; the smell of magnolia; the pale reflection of the moon across the surface of the lake.
Domino City Public Park to be exact.
The rain had stopped a while back, and he had just noticed it. The only proofs of its previous existence were the numerous puddles, the damp ground beneath his shoes, and the dripping droplets on the leaves.
Bakura sat down on the bench, ignoring the fact that it was indeed wet, watching the ripples of water breaking the moon's reflection.
Unlike the many denizens of Domino city who were rushing in their daily routines, Bakura was patient.
He was waiting. Waiting for the same thing he had been waiting for since the First and the Second Beginning. Ever since the second downfall of Lucifer, they, the Fallens, had stubbornly waited, hid, and cowered in fear from the Wardens. The Elders of the Coven were useless, doing nothing about this, like always.
And look where we are now. Bakura thought bitterly.
They were all pathetic fools.
However, that no longer mattered. What did matter was finding his other half. Once that person awakened, it was only a matter of time before they resumed the leadership of the Coven, side by side. That was how everything was supposed to be.
They were darkness. Their blood and soul forever intertwined as one; their bond went beyond the power of God himself. Fate, who had hated them so much that she had sealed their future as the condemned, did one generous thing: she had sewed their destinies as one. Even his banishment from the kingdom of heaven was bearable when that person was with him.
Bakura would wait for him.
He was not in a rush, for he had an eternity.
"I swear" a man said, raising his left hand upward.
"I swear" a hundred voices repeated after him, a hundred hands shot up in the air.
"To always follow The Code," He continued.
"To always follow The Code,"
"and to remain faithful to The Council."
"and to remain faithful to The Council."
"For what ever the nature God will bestow upon his people."
"For what ever the nature God will bestow upon his people."
"I will,"
"I will,"
"undoubtedly adhere to the decisions of the Great One."
"undoubtedly adhere to the decisions of the Great One."
"And during time for challenging,"
"And during time for challenging,"
"to challenge all that are presented as a threat,"
"to challenge all that are presented as a threat,"
"to The Code, The Council, and The Great One."
"to The Code, The Council, and The Great One."
"I swear."
"I swear."
The man lowered his hand; the hundreds followed him.
"I hereby declare your admission to The Society as Wardens." The man said, a cold voice's attempt at sounding welcoming.
A great roar echoed upon the Great Hall.
Not bothered by the obvious distaste that Leader failed to conceal, the men and women cheered, ecstatic that their lengthy and tedious training was finally over. Now, they were Wardens, the real guardians of justice. With the secret oath that they have taken just a moment ago in the back of their mind, the new Wardens quickly left their orderly rank and separated into groups, congratulating each other for a job well done.
The Leader resisted the urge to scoff. The newbies, as usual, had no idea of the difficult journey ahead of them. They were too occupied with the glory of carrying such a prestigious title that they have not shed a thought for the tough life waiting behind the doors of this hall. That was the most annoying thing about these youngsters—they have forgotten how to think.
He scanned the new and young faces. They all looked the same—happy, inexperience, and incompetent.
How irritating.
Suddenly, someone caught his eyes.
It was a boy, barely eighteen.
He was wearing the same uniform as every other male Warden: a crisp black coat with a high collar, gold buttons, two breast pockets and two hip pockets, with black trouser that had white stripes running along the side.
He was similar to every other boy in this hall. There was nothing unique about the brown hair or the blue eyes that revealed no emotion.
Yet there was something. Something hidden beneath that ordinary exterior was begging for further scrutiny.
The boy was not cheering or celebrating like the others around him. He stood there at attention; eyes lock forward, hands at the seam of his trouser, an apparition, defying the joyous atmosphere around him. No one else was near him within a one feet radius.
Leader knew that face.
He had seen it before.
The same sad, solemn face of the numerous historical paintings in The Reserve. The same piercing blue eyes, the same facial structure. The same man that had existed for hundreds—no— thousands of years. The same man that survived the First and the Second Beginning. The same man that lived through the Blood Age and the Great Awakening.
Leader turned to another Council member.
"What is his name?" He asked, pointing to the strange boy.
The other man raised an eyebrow. He had not met anyone in The Society who did not know who that boy was.
"You don't know who he is?" He asked in amusement.
"Should I?" Leader studied his old friend, as if his gaze could waver the barrier covering the answer that he was searching for.
Chuckling, the Councilman replied:
"Seto. Seto Kaiba."
"He has awakened."
"What? Are you sure?"
"Yes I'm sure. I sensed his presence, barely appearing upon this physical world. He is reborn once again, although his powers are quite weak for the time being."
"I'm going to find him."
"You can't."
"Just watch me."
"You won't get what you're searching for. He has not shred his human self yet. The vampire blood that flows in his vein is currently too weak to manifest itself. We have to wait for the time being."
"I do not wish to wait. It is the very thing I despise the most. "
"You don't have a choice, do you? After all, this is the life that you have chosen for yourself—a life of nothing but waiting. You brought this on yourself."
"You talk as if you have not done the same. You are in no better position than I."
"I never imply otherwise."
Yami did not want to be here.
Nevertheless, working was a necessity. After all, the bills were not going to pay themselves.
After handling the last of the customers, Yami decided to close the shop for the evening. There were not a lot of customers today, so it was not a bad idea to close the place early.
Now it was only a matter of cleaning up. All he had to do were wipe the counter, rearrange the toys and mangas, and vacuum the carpeted floor.
The tasks were not that bad.
Well, if one ignored the stain and fingerprints mark on the counter, the toys and mangas on the floor or in the wrong shelves, and the various foods spilled on the floor.
That, and the fact that the broom was no where to be found. The vacuum cleaner thought that it was a good idea to be broken today.
Yami sighed and started on his work. Years of working in the same game shop failed to make him forget the boring repetitiveness of his life. In fact, they seemed to constantly remind him of it.
Things went by slower today. Usually, there would be someone else on the night shift with him. However, everyone seemed to be sick, have a family emergency, or have a hot date today, so Yami had to take the shift alone.
After he finished everything, he turned off the light, locked up the shop, and pocketed his keys.
He walked toward the bus stop, not wanting to waste another moment out here alone.
Yami shivered, scrunching his shoulders to keep warm. He did not expected it to rain today (he never watched the forecast), so he did not bring a thicker jacket. Luckily the sprinkling had stopped, but not before it left behind cold winds, damp air, and wet, dirty streets.
Another great day of his life.
He hated the night shift. Despite the fact that he knew the way home by heart, there was just something about traveling home at night that made him uneasy. He kept having a strange feeling that something was watching him.
The night was the time where everything fell asleep and when other things awakened. The night was the time where things that were supposed to be hidden came out.
The jingling of coins in his pockets heightened his paranoia. The last thing he wanted to do was to identify his location to a potential rapist or murderer.
The walk to the bus stop took approximately three minutes.
"Hey Yami." The bus driver said warmly. "How is your night?"
"Hello." Yami replied, "It's ok. Yours?"
"The usual. You know how boring the life of a bus driver can be."
"Yeah."
And the conversation ended there as Yami paid for his ticket and sat in the back seat. He did not understand why the bus driver bothered to talk and acknowledge his existence.
After all, he barely knew the guy. He did not even know his name.
And he had been in the same bus for the past three years.
Yami sighed again as the scenes of the city passed through his window. He did not bother watching them. It was interesting to watch when he first came to the city, but not anymore.
Shifting slightly to accommodate himself in the orange plastic seat, Yami started to let his mind drifted away as he stared blankly at the numerous skyscrapers and shopping districts. This was downtown Domino—the heart of commerce and business in the city—where people with money flaunted their power and where everyone tried to fill their pockets.
Despite the fact that it was late, the streets were bright and music from the many nightclubs sprang the area to life. In the entrance of these clubs would stand a buff security man and a line of people standing on a red velvet carpet, waiting for their turn to enter. These were the night clubs where prominent businessmen, models, and other celebrities liked to waste their cash on drinking, dancing, and enjoying the glamorous life.
Soon, the scenery started to change as the bus went to the other side of the city.
The bright night life faded out, and in its place was the area where moneyed men would not dared to set their foot upon. High apartment complex, reaching at least five stories tall, accompanied by old advertisement billboards that carried heavy graffiti, dominated this half of the city. These buildings, with paintjobs that pealed away by time, had windows so small and doors so narrow that one would wonder if they were suffocating from the polluted air or from the heavy atmosphere of the less fortunate.
Homeless men, abandoned by the very civilized society that they once supported, now slept in the dark corners of the city, forgotten.
The bus ride took about fifteen minutes.
The bus stopped.
"Here you are, Yami"
"Thank you." He said before stepping off the bus, "Good night."
"Good night, kiddo."
He had to walk the last ten minutes home.
The road was not terrible. In fact, the city had tried to fix it two months ago, so it was in decent conditions. But since Yami was quite uncomfortable with traveling at night, the ten minutes walk was worse than any humanly possible torture.
The street was mostly empty, saving for several pieces of trash that fluttered in the wind. Old street lamps illuminated everything in a strange, unnatural orange glow; a few of them broken—hiding the dangers in the shadow. The rain had left the street with puddles and a disgustingly strong stench.
It was late. Even the bums on the street were already sleeping.
The coins that were left from his bus trip jingled in his pocket.
KACLANK! Yami jumped.
He turned around.
It was just a cat jumping on the trash bin.
Yami walked quickly, shivering under his thin jacket. The atmosphere of the night was driving him crazy. He looked forward, not wanting to remind himself of the possible evils lurking in the alleyways.
Someone was following him.
At first, Yami thought he was being paranoid. However, as his senses became more alert, he could catch the faint sound of footsteps a distance behind him.
He strained his ears to catch the sound again.
There! It was definitely the sound of footsteps.
And it was coming closer.
Yami tried to fight the rising panic. He sped up. The hands in his pockets gripped the coins and house key tighter to prevent the jingling sounds to get louder, as if his silence could stop the follower from spotting him on the empty streets.
The footsteps behind him quickened.
He fought the urge to turn around for fear that it would alert the stalker. Strange notion, really, for the person behind him had surely noted his existence by now. Nevertheless, he would pretend that he had no idea anyone was following him.
Yami wanted to run. However, he did not know how fast the stalker could catch up to him.
His heart thumped nervously in his chest. The follower was getting closer. What should he do?
Babump, babump, babump.
Run? But his legs felt like jelly from panic. His hands were shaking in cold panic.
Babump, babump, babump.
Was the footstep getting closer? He could not tell. He could only hear the thumping of his heart. It was so loud that surely the stalker would have heard it.
No.
The stranger was right behind him now.
Yami gulped. His hands searched wildly for anything that could be use for defense. Yami reached for the pen in his pocket…
"You're going to hell." The man whispered. A sinister chuckle followed his words.
Yami whipped around, weapon ready in hand.
"You're going to hell." The man repeated.
Oh.
Yami relaxed.
It was just another street bum.
"We're all going to hell." The man shouted; his voice laced with such deep an agony that Yami felt something flipped in his stomach. The homeless man regarded Yami with suspicion before turning around and left. His footstep slowly faded away.
Hell?
Hell. There was something unsettling about that word.
"Hell." Yami found himself whispering; his tongue curled awkwardly to make out the sound. Hell. The word weighted heavily. A warning. A premonition.
Hell.
Yami stood there for a while before turning back to the road.
There was nothing dangerous on the streets. Just a bunch of homeless people.
He resumed walking. His heart slowed down considerably.
Hell.
He would make it home. He would. It was just a short walk. Four minutes later, he would be inside his apartment listening to Joey's snores from the next room. Then he would have a warm cup of tea before taking a shower and going to bed.
He would be fine.
Nothing was going to happen.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps again.
The panic rose.
Maybe it was just the same homeless guy from before.
Yami strained his ears to catch the sound.
No. It was not the same bum from before. These footsteps were different. They were lighter, softer, fast and swift. Despite the fact that they were light, the sounds were quite close, which indicated that the stranger was only a few steps behind him.
How?
How did this stranger get behind him so quickly? With the homeless man, Yami should have been able to catch the sound of his footsteps from far away.
But Yami had just only heard this man about right now. He did not hear him coming before.
The sounds were soft, as if they were not meant for Yami to hear.
Fear trickled down his spine. This stranger did not want Yami to discover him.
He realized with horror.
Like a predator stalking his prey.
What should he do? The man was only a few steps behind him. Any moment now, and he would be…
Be what?
Yami did not want to find out.
Run.
What should he do?
Run.
The man was getting closer.
Run.
Yami followed his instinct.
He sprinted off.
Behind him, the stranger sped up.
The chase became noisy by now. The sound of feet hitting the ground and plashes of the rain puddles echoed throughout the empty streets.
Run run run. Don't look back. His mind screamed.
What if he get caught? What if the man got him? What was going to happen to him?
He was almost there now; he was only a small distance from the apartment complex.
Almost there. Almo—
Yami tripped.
And fell, plashing into a puddle. The taste of oil and something sour mix with rainwater met his tongue.
Suddenly, he felt a firm grip on his shoulder. A hand so cold that he could feel the icy sensation through his two layers of clothing.
No.
No. He can't be… Not here. Not now.
No! Someone help him!
The cold hand pulled him closer and…
"Yami, is that you?"
Yami blinked.
"Joey?"
There he was, Joey, walking down the steps of the complex toward him. His blond hair in disarray and his T-shirt still had that same greasy stain from a year ago. Joey gave him a quizzical stare, a serious expression on his face.
"Hey! Are you ok? What happened?" Joey asked, concerned, offering a hand to Yami.
Yami blinked.
What's going on?
He looked around frantically, searching for…
For what?
Strangely, he did not remember.
Yami frowned.
He was currently sprawling on the ground, the coins from his pocket and his pen were scattered on the sidewalk.
How did he ended up like this? He was just standing a few seconds ago. No wait, he was running, then he fell, and…
And what?
He did not remember.
No, he was supposed to remember something. Something had happened. He knew it, but he could not find anything in his memory but a black hole.
Yami tried to retrace his steps. Ok, so he was working at the game shop.
Then he left.
Then he took the bus.
The bus driver asked him the same questions he had been asking him for the last three years.
He walked off the bus.
He walked home.
A homeless man told him that he was going to hell.
Then he started walking again.
For some reason, he started running.
And ended up here…
"Yami?" Joey's voice broke his reverie.
Yami glanced up to Joey's worried brown eyes.
He grabbed Joey's hand to pull himself up.
"What happened?" Yami asked.
"I don't know. You tell me. I was taking the trash out when I heard something. Went out here to check and you were all over on the floor." Joey replied, frowning, "You ok buddy?"
"Yeah, I'm fine"
"You're shaking." Joey pointed out, before reaching down to pick up Yami's things for him.
"Huh?" Yami looked down at his legs, and sure enough, they were shaking uncontrollably.
"Here, let me help you. You seem pretty shaken up. Let's go inside and have some tea." Joey said, putting Yami's right arm around his shoulder and helping him walk toward the apartment complex.
"Ok." Yami said softly, his mind still in shock.
What happened?
Joey hated being a Warden, especially this moment.
"You're late." The Sergeant said coldly.
Joey winced.
Damn. Caught again.
Joey turned around slowly to meet the frosty blue eyes of his taciturn Sergeant.
"Good Morning, Sergeant Kaiba."
"Good morning, Private Wheeler, LE 4." Seto replied, emphasizing on Joey's low ranking.
Joey tried to remain calm. He hated it when Seto reminded him of "his place." Even after four years here, he could not move beyond Private (PV1)—the lowest rank of The Society.
He tried, he really did. He always did well on the physical portion of the test, but on the written portion…not so well. Joey was not particularly a fan of The Society's boring history.
However, that was not the only thing that hindered him from promotion.
Joey had violated a law of The Code—a ridiculously long set of laws that every Warden had to follow.
He was living with Yami, an ordinary human being who had no need to be involved in the business of the Wardens. In addition, Yami was not an adult yet—being only seventeen—another violation.
To top it all off, Joey had even used his Warden connections to obtain a job for Yami.
The other Wardens have told him that if he stopped dealing with Yami and filed the H-250 form, he would be pardoned and be given a chance for promotion.
He could not do such a thing though. He could not abandon Yami. He was his friend—his only friend. The lonely and depressing reality of a Warden had worn down his initial excitement, and Joey found himself clinging desperately to Yami, the only dose of normality in his life. Even though they did not voice it out loud, the two needed one another. Yami was too young to face the world alone, and Joey's nature did not allow him to survive an empty life. He refused to let go of him, even if it meant that he would forever be a lowly PV1.
"Why are you late?" Seto asked with a condescending tone.
What should he say? He could not say that he was late because Yami had an acute stress reaction and he had to take care of him. Not only would it reminded Seto of another of his "deficiency", it also violated another law: never place personal conflicts before the welfare of The Society.
"I…I forgot to set up my alarm sir."
"Forgot your alarm? I know that your expanse knowledge is the size of a pea, but come on, Private, setting the alarm is a simple task even for ten year old." Seto sneered.
"Yes sir."
"You're a Warden; act like one."
"Yes sir." Joey grounded out, trying not to growl.
"Stop growling Private. You're not a dog." Seto smirked.
"Yes sir." Joey wanted to wipe that smirk off of Seto's face so bad. Damn you Kaiba.
"Anything else you have to say, Private?"
Joey is forced to say the same thing he had before, whenever he made a mistake.
"There is no excuse for my action, sir."
"It better not happen again. I know that it is difficult, but try to at least act your age Wheeler. You're 22, or did you forget that too?"
"Understood, sir."
"Dismiss." Seto waved him away.
"Yes sir." Joey swung around quickly, fisting his hands tightly by his side to suppress the urge to clobber Seto. He tried to control his steps, making sure that he was not stomping. It would be a million years before he allowed Seto to win.
The damn bastard. He always hated the sergeant of his unit, Seto Kaiba. Unlike Joey and the many who struggled to achieve a higher rank, Seto had made Corporal within a year and a half and Sergeant a year later. He was well respected for his swiftness in completing missions and his skills with the numerous weapons.
Joey had to admit that Seto was a talented and disciplined man, a perfect leader and a perfect example of what a Warden should be.
That did not stop him from loathing the arrogant sergeant though.
Damn Kaiba.
"Don't mind Kaiba, Joey." Tristan said as he loaded his gun. The 8th unit was in the armory, getting weapons and preparing for an assault. There was an unusual amount of excitement in the atmosphere today. What? Were they going to have a raise this month?
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Joey replied absently, and then added, "He's a freaking asshole."
"Don't let him get to you. Try to focus. We got a new lead today." Tristan attempted to stir Joey's attention away from his animosity toward the cerulean eyed sergeant.
"We always got a new lead, and the same thing always happened."
"Yeah? Well, I heard it's a big one this time. We're going on a D-A5"
A D-A5 was another name for a high-ranked vampire assault involving a unit of five. "How big?" Joey said, trying to sound interested. It was always the same—some mission to take down a Fallen one.
"A Root, I've heard." This caught Joey's attention. A Root was a vampire of deep origin, rumored to be born before the First Beginning, a follower of Lucifer himself. This might be a dangerous mission. Why was this only a D-A5? Usually it would take much more than that to handle a Root.
It might be a false alarm though. The last time that the Council had ordered a capture of a Root, it turned out to be just a normal vampire. The Council had been paranoid as of late. Apparently, a powerful Root had been reborn in this lifetime, and it was the Wardens' job to kill him.
Joey sighed as he strapped a small pistol on his ankle, beneath his jeans. He did not care about the Council or their pathetic excuse of a history. He used to though, when he was a new recruit.
Their history could be traced back to the First Beginning, when the Lucifer and his followers were casted down from heaven for rebelling against God. The fallen angels, powerful and bitter, decided to attack the children of God, the humans, and live on by drinking their blood and taking the essence of their soul.
For eternities, these Fallen Ones had lived, shredding their physical shells, giving birth to new sinned ones, being reborn again and again, and taking with them millions of human lives.
The Wardens, as the hunters called themselves, were God's chosen people to carry out His will. They were the guardian of justice, hunting the Fallen Ones for their sins and evil deeds. They have survived, protecting humanity from the First Beginning to the Second Beginning, through the Blood Age and the Great Awakening. They have seen everything and nothing.
They were justice.
Their job was to kill the Fallens, better known as vampires.
Initially, Joey really did join with a strong determination to bring justice upon the sinned ones. However, each day splintered his resolve piece by piece until the only thing that was left was the need for survival. It was ironic that the hunters and the hunted both desperately clung on to life, yet they refused to stop the war that threatened to kill them both.
It was sad, really.
Sergeant Kaiba, walked in the room and ordered in a booming voice:
"Unit 8, move out."
It was time.
Note:
And that is the first chapter :D Not sure if I should continue this, but hey, at least I got 1 chapter out xD.
I have use "Joey" instead of "Jounouchi" for a reason :D
If you have not figure it out yet, the First Beginning refers to the downfall of Lucifer and his followers when they rebelled against God. The other events: The Second Beginning, The Blood Age, and the Great Awakening will be revealed in time.
The ranking of the Wardens are a combination of the ranking in the US Marine Corp and the US army. I do not own the name of these ranks. Here's the general idea if you are interested:
Private (PV1)
Private (PV2)
Private First Class (PFC)
Lance Corporal (LCpl)
Corporal (Cpl)
Sergeant (Sgt)
Staff Sergeant (SSgt)
Sergeant First Class (SgtFC)
Gunnery Sergeant (GySgt)
Master Sergeant (MSgt)
First Sergeant (1stSgt)
Master Gunnery Sergeant (MGySgt)
Sergeant Major (SgtMaj)
Commanding Sergeant Major (CSgtMaj)
And yes, I made a reference to the US Marine Corp 11th general order:
"To be especially watchful at night, and during time for challenging, to challenge all persons on or near my post and to allow no one to pass without proper authority."
And this is the end of my rantings.
