(Author's notes are at the end. Please please please read them, and give this lil oneshot a chance.)
…
A fork of lightning explodes through the sky, somewhere above the city.
He pays no attention to the phenomenon, merely uses it to his advantage, squinting through rain and darkness to see. And for a moment, he can, the electric flash illuminating her figure in full detail, her ready stance, precarious on the slope of the roof.
He can tell by her expression that she is not his Akila. She is the other Akila now, the successor to the King of Thieves, her magic buzzing red-pink and violent at her fingertips. Dressed all in black, near invisible against the angry sky, her long coat billows behind her. She is that Akila, intensity and cold calculation, like an entirely different person.
Tabs is holding tight to his arm as the flash of lightning fades away, and he can't imagine what this puts her through, feeling twice his worry, twice his fear. Her skin is stark white in comparison with his own. Rooftops, he hears her mutter, indistinctly, And why must they make this so dangerous?
It's dangerous enough, he thinks to himself. But that's just the way they are.
This Akila frightens him somewhat, with her narrow red eyes and a fierce expression, blood trickling unnoticed down her forehead, her torso, pooling at her wrists. Rain washes it away rapidly, but keeps it from clotting, and new blood rises easily to the surface in replacement. She is a terrible mess, but dangerous, like a spirit of the storm. The wind whips her long white hair through the rain, plastering it to her exposed and bloodied flesh. Her outline stiffens, illuminated dimly by the glow of her magic.
The attack is swift and almost unexpected.
Bakura seems to appear out of nothing, all speed and skill and blood-red magic. They collide in a whirl of limbs, spin kick punch, white hair and black coats flying out around them. Akila lands a strike, throws him off-balance, but he lets himself fall and somehow turns it to his advantage, boot connecting solidly with her shoulder.
Beside him, Tabs lets a small noise escape her lips, fingers tightening on his arm, but she allows nothing more. She is strong, and he admires this. He wonders if she can feel the nervousness eating away at her insides, just as he can. It runs a shiver down his spine.
The next bolt of lightning illuminates a spray of blood, Bakura's blood, the fading trails of Akila's magic mingling between droplets. He staggers back, teeters at the edge for a fraction of a second—Tabs breathes in a choked gasp, fingers grasping at her Ring—then somehow he has righted himself, eyes glittering madly in the last moments of fading electricity. His lips move, and though they cannot hear over the howl of the wind, Akila understands, responds. There is no trace of the usual humor between them.
Thunder crashes, deafening.
In the darkness, it is more difficult to catch their movements, quick, complicated gestures, combinations of physical and magical attacks. Sparks fly between them, curses he recognizes, curses he doesn't, curses he is certain fall just short of fatal. Akila dodges one and takes another, straight to the chest. He feels his breath freeze in his lungs.
Bakura takes no pause, shows no mercy, as though she is not his only daughter. Her blood glistens on his blade, dripping, joining the swirls of rain in the gutter. She glares upward, perfectly, deceptively still.
She moves. He counters.
They are both so fast when they need to be, inhuman in their speed, red and pink and golden sparks flying in wisps of purpled shadow. Blades flash out of nowhere, colliding, slashing, springing apart again. Father and daughter each slide back a few feet with the force of it, boots slick against the rain-soaked tiles of the rooftop. For a moment, they simply stare at one another.
"This is it," Tabs murmurs beside him, and he jumps. He'd nearly forgotten her presence. "It won't last much longer."
"How do you know?" he asks, can't resist asking, voice little more than a whisper.
Lightning flashes, reflecting in her lenses. Worry creases her forehead. "I know them," she says, shaking her head. "I know them."
They clash.
Bakura gestures, close range, sending a cloud of black shards tearing through her skin. Akila snarls, shields, but only about half of them manage to rebound, and he waves them off to the side. She takes the opportunity to slash a jet of flaming pink across his chest, bringing blood in its wake, sending him back a few steps over loose, slippery tiles. Bakura coughs and spits something dark into the rain.
Akila's hair flies out behind her as she rushes him, slashing twice more with her magic coiled around her arm like a snaking line of fire. He pivots and grabs her wrist, his hand shielded in shadow magic, and throws her backwards with a resounding crack. Her descent is followed immediately by two bright orbs of red, which collide with her torso like miniature comets. The pain on her face is evident with the next streak of lightning.
There is no time for pain, though, as she rolls to her feet in a feline motion, lips distorting with the odd syllables of an ancient language. Bakura's hand flashes, silver reflecting through the night, arcing straight for his opponent's throat. Akila never stops calling her curse, though she winces as the dagger sinks through her hand, raised just in time to deflect the attack. Without missing a beat, she rips the blade from her flesh, returning it with deadly intent.
Bakura dodges it, eyes narrow and predatory. With incredible accuracy, he summons a shield just as her curse lets fly.
It is not entirely effective, and the trailing licks of magic burn almost visibly at his form, but he retains consciousness and balance, which is enough. Akila swears. The curse she's called is a powerful one, and it has drained her considerably. She may well have been counting on its power to knock him out in that single strike. A risky maneuver, and now she has the disadvantage.
Bakura has gained a sort of limp, nearly unnoticeable, as he rushes her again. His magic meets hers with a sound to rival the thunder, and they each dig their heels, grit their teeth. They are making a last stand and they know it. Akila presses for anything she can hold to her advantage, for she is fading quickly, fading like the stars behind the stormclouds. She lacks Bakura's experience, and she has certainly lost a great deal of both blood and magical energy. The battle must end, as Tabs predicted. They are drawing near.
Suddenly, there is a short burst in Akila's magic, an extra moment of strength that pushes her father backward by a step. Uncharacteristically, he slips on a bit of loose tile, falters near the edge of the roof, his hair blowing wild through the storm. His chest spasms, releasing another spray of blood from behind his pale lips. It suddenly becomes clear that he has taken just as much damage as his daughter in the course of these events. It becomes clear to the observers, as well as to the opponent.
Bakura, of course, already knew.
Akila withdraws her stream of raw magic, spins on the toe of her boot for momentum. She levels a gaze at her father. This will be the end, they realize. The success or failure of this final attempt will determine the outcome. Lightning forks, illuminates the scene in electric detail.
She strikes.
Tabs cannot hold back her scream as Bakura falls over the edge.
By the time they make it to the street below, splashing and panting through the continuing storm, Akila is already by her father's side, her small, slender hand within his own. She is murmuring golden words, casting a soft pink light over his wounds, even as she remains bloody and broken. Under her care, Bakura is already starting to revive.
Without preamble, Tabs drops to her knees at his side, reaching for his other hand. Their fingers twine together, and Bakura's eyes flicker open to the red glow between them. It is unclear as to which of them has produced this, or if it is a phenomenon between the two, but it seems to help, bringing him back to consciousness. He blinks a few times into the rain.
Carefully, Tabs slides an arm around behind his shoulders, helps him to sit up. He leans against her heavily but does not release her hand. After a moment, the glow between them steadies, and Akila gently relinquishes her hold on her father. The three of them look at each other for a moment or two, seeming to come to some silent understanding.
He fidgets uncertainly, unwilling to interfere. This is between the three of them.
The Rings press together between them as Tabs helps Bakura to his feet, supporting most of his unsteady weight. Akila hovers off to the side, concern soft upon her face, half-reaching as though to help and simultaneously hold herself back from such objectives. At a look from her father, her arms drop to her sides, back straightening. Blood runs down her in rivulets, which she ignores.
"I have defeated you, Bakura," she says, quietly, strongly, scarlet eyes trained upon his. "I reign victorious in this battle."
"I expected nothing less," he responds, and there is seriousness between them, a solemnity that does not suit their everyday personas. "I always knew that you someday would."
Her eyes are wet with tears and rain. "Daddy," she murmurs, but does not go on.
"Akila. I'm proud of you, Akila."
She smiles, softly. She waits.
He sighs, and the smile is echoed on his own lips. As best he can, he straightens, holds out his hand to her. "Take your place then, King of Thieves. You have at last succeeded me."
Lightning and thunder crack as one through the night, a shower of spark and sound. Akila's cry is feral with power, carried away on the wind.
…
Author Note! Mm, so yeah. The reason I haven't been posting much here is because I've been writing a lot of my stories within this world. ((gestures upward)) It is definitely not the everyday YuGiOh world, and definitely a few more than the everyday YuGiOh characters. I guess you could call it AU-ish in a way, in a time somewhere after the events of the final duel between Yugi and Yami. In any event, I do know from reading reviews on other stories just how risky it is to write stories with other characters grafted into them, as you are likely to be either ignored or massively criticized and/or flamed, but... I enjoy writing these stories, and it's not like I just pulled the characters out of the air and set them free. This particular world has been creating itself since late 2004, and I've been working within it fanfic-wise since about 2006. So I'd appreciate greatly not being flamed for going out-of-the-box a bit. (I know this doesn't apply to all, just to some. I wuv the non-flamey kind of reviewers much.) Anyway, quick run-down on this: Besides Bakura, we have Akila, his daughter; Tabs, Akila's mother; and Saiph, Akila's boyfriend, from whose pov we see this from. This takes place somewhere further in the future, not sure where. Anywho, if you read this, thanks for giving it a chance. Love ya, duckies. Angeliz out.