A/N: Part of the Formspring canon FOR I HAVE DECLARED IT SO. For more information, ask me or see /theevilbakura, /thegoodbakura, or /~greatsardonicismking.
For those just joining us: Yami Bakura, aka the Thief King (though yes, he's still the fluffy-haired pale-skinned guy we all know and love) has his own body. Ryou has a couple of cats named Ashlee and Isis. I... think that's all you need to know for this oneshot (?). Oh yes, and this was written pretty much just because the Thief King didn't want a fanfic to be written about him having a child. So yeah~
Once upon a time in the faraway magical land of England, there was a guy with white hair named Bakura but who was also called the Thief King. The guy was, that is, not his hair, which had nicknames of its own (such as "Bat Wings" and "Bunny Ears"). However, his hair is a relatively minor player in this story and thus its numerous nicknames shall henceforth be ignored.
Today was a pretty standard day for the Thief King, all things considered. His hikari, Ryou, had ventured into the deep, dark, and dangerous world known as "high school" while the Thief King stayed behind to tend to more domestic matters, like feeding kittens and making coffee (as dark as possible, no milk or sugar if it could be avoided). It was a rainy day, also very normal for England, and the Thief King was amusing himself by checking messages online (for he had become quite the internet addict in the past few months). He didn't realize that soon his world would be flipped upside-down. Yes, very soon. Now, in fact.
The too-cheery chime of the doorbell echoed through the house he shared with Ryou. The Thief King grumbled, pushing himself away from the computer monitor and nearly tripping over the kittens playing at his feet in the process. Muttering an ancient Egyptian curse that could roughly be translated as "these durnblasted bleeping kittens, you had better be glad you're cute," he picked his way over the detritus he had strewn around the house in the past couple hours until he got to the door and swung it open.
Much to his surprise, no one was there. His eyes scanned the doorstop in confusion and annoyance. No, there was nothing. Nothing but a giant pink baby basket completely decked out in ribbons, baby toys, and rattles.
The Thief King stared at the basket for a moment. "This is a joke," he said. Then he paused. He crouched low and glared at the basket, nudging with his finger the blanket covering it but recoiling when a child's wail came from inside. "This is a JOKE!" he said louder, stumbling back. "...I was being RHETORICAL!" he yelled to the heavens. No answer came forth but the continued sobbing of the infant.
The Thief King commenced having a staring contest with the basket. Perhaps his theory was that if he glared at the thing long enough it would vaporize or some such. Perhaps he was simply having a Blue Screen of Death (as they say) in surprise at the random appearance of a baby on his porch. Who am I, to be privy to the contents of the Great Thief King Bakura's thoughts? In any case, it was at least fifteen minutes before the 3000-year-old-man-in-a-teenager's-body heaved a long-suffering sigh and picked up the basket, drawing back the blanket to reveal the red face of a wailing baby girl.
He narrowed his eyes, trying to ward off the oncoming headache. "Shh," he crooned awkwardly. "Quiet, you little noisemaker." He peered about to see any signs of a person who could have left the basket, but he saw no one. Perhaps because he waited a quarter-hour before even attempting to investigate this mysterious happenstance. Way to stay sharp, Thief King.
His desperate efforts to calm the child were of no avail, and it finally came to the Thief King that PERHAPS the reason for the babe's distress was that it was pouring rain outside, chilling the two of them to the bone and getting them both soaking wet-which, as you might guess, neither he nor the baby really enjoyed. He grumbled, realizing that his only option (or, should I say, his only HUMANE option, for there were one or two completely unspeakable violent ones that also sprang to his mind) was to bring the child safely back into his and Ryou's home. He did so posthaste, kicking the door shut behind him with his foot and setting the basket down as he fetched something a little warmer than the despicably-bright-pink blanket currently covering the baby.
Dropping a quilt unceremoniously onto the kid, the Thief King plopped down next to the basket, relieved to hear the girl's crying finally abate as she fell asleep. Frowning, he poked the baby's arm once, experimentally, before drawing his hand back and resting his head on his fist. He stared down at the child with a pensive but stern face (which had frightened greater men than the baby, and which would certainly have scared her into crying again had she been awake to see it).
"What to do..." he muttered to himself more than to the babe as he resolved to watch her until RYOU could come home and take care of the thing instead. "What to do with you?"