A/N: Some of them are fluff, some of them are not. This one happens not to be. "Bakura" is the normal one, not the spirit, unless otherwise noted.
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Chapter 1- prophylactic
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prophylactic-
1. preventing or guarding from disease
2. protective, preventive
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There was a soft, persistent rain.
A young boy, white and frail, stood at the edge of a graveyard, in front of a cracked tombstone. The grass there was overgrown with weeds, although most of the graveyard was well-tended. November air blew dried leaves over to mix with the loam of the ground.
He ground the leaves under one leather sole.
"I have to transfer schools," he said. "Not even a year, this time. Father will run out of private schools to place me in."
He paused. "I don't know why it's my fault. The last time I remember this... some of my friends helped me. Yuugi... Anzu... you would have liked them. But I can't figure out why things are going wrong now. I... I... one person has died.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't protect you, and now... I cannot protect strangers or friends."
His voice was almost drowned out by the sudden downpour.
Bakura shivered and stared gloomily at the tear in his umbrella. His dark wool clothes were damp and stuck to his body. They would be ruined tomorrow.
"Landlord."
"Yami?"
"Are you done?"
Rather than answer, Bakura turned his back to the spirit's form. Squatting down, he used a gloved finger to wipe the filth off one stone-carved letter. "I can't believe they would let your grave go to ruin," he mused. "Just because Father doesn't... they're... well, priests are supposed to do well by the dead."
The spirit bent down as well. "It's time to go."
There were a million meanings in his words.
"I couldn't protect her!" he cried. "Now I can't protect myself, or anyone from myself. I thought that you would help me sometimes. When we were in Domino, it seemed like you would. I thought you were some kind of prophylactic companion."
The other shook his head. "I don't know why you expect..."
Bakura sighed. "I have another week here. Will you let me go back to Domino this last time?"
"I don't know what you hope that will accomplish."
"One last time."
The spirit shrugged. "All right. Only if it will stop you from going to pieces over that pharaoh's consort."
"Even if I take responsibility for your actions," said Bakura, "you're still the one we both know killed him. I have to go and say goodbye before I leave this country for good."
"Tsk. I'm not making you leave."
"Japan doesn't long tolerate murderers," Bakura said hollowly.
He felt, then, that he was held in a light, prophylactic embrace. But it was impossible to tell whether the wind or another soul whispered condolences in his ear. Bakura held the other's hand, and there was bittersweet love in his grip.
"I can't believe that I gave up my home and my friends for you."
They stood and turned away, then, and walked out of the churchyard. The fallen gingko leaves crumpled under one pair of soles.
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A/N: I'll try to update a few times a week. Review!