Disclaimer: Don't own anything
Note: It's AU. Very, very AU. Also, this story features manga!verse Ryou, purely because I wanted him to have blue eyes.
Possessive
By Fiver
Rishid Ishtar was generally the undisputed master of the poker-face, but even he couldn't suppress a frown of confusion when he arrived home one evening to find his sister on a stepladder, hanging what appeared to be bunches of flowers above their front door. Malik was sitting on the stairs just inside the house, watching the proceedings. He returned Rishid's questioning glance with nothing more than a long-suffering roll of his eyes.
"...Is something wrong?" Rishid asked at length. Ishizu didn't reply – just continued determinedly with her task with a pinched brow and noticeably clenched jaw.
"Ishizu thinks our house is haunted," Malik eventually drawled by way of explanation, his voice filled with an undisguised mixture of dry amusement and irritable disdain.
"Oh?" Rishid said warily, glancing from one sibling to the other.
"That's why she's garnishing the front door," Malik snorted. "Magic flowers or something, I guess."
The furrows in Ishizu's forehead deepened but she pointedly ignored her younger brother. Rishid sensed they had had one of their frequent science-versus-superstition arguments in his absence, and he really had no desire to get caught in the middle.
"They're very pretty flowers," he offered instead, reaching up to touch one of the clusters of small purple petals.
"...Vervain," Ishizu informed him softly, clearly trying to keep her voice low enough that Malik wouldn't hear and, inevitably, mock. "It was in one of mother's old books. It's a protector-plant."
"That's a nice thought," Rishid said encouragingly.
"Don't patronise me," Ishizu said coolly, securing the last knot and casting a pointed glance in Malik's direction. "I've had quite enough of that for one day."
"You really think something is wrong?" Rishid asked, his expression becoming grave. "In the house?"
"I know something is wrong," Ishizu replied, stepping down from the ladder. "Can't you feel it? It's...heavy. And dark-"
"Shit, Ishizu," Malik snarled in sudden disgust. Apparently he'd been listening to every word. "Will you just admit you've got a case of the pre-menstrual blues or something? This is so stupid-"
"I didn't ask for your opinion or your approval, Malik," his sister returned evenly. "You're the one who's being unreasonable. If it makes me feel better to put these here, what's the harm?"
"The harm?" he repeated through gritted teeth. "You're making us look like crazies. People will talk."
Ishizu gave a quiet, bitter laugh.
"People talk anyway," she said, stooping to pick up something at her feet. Two sets of wind-chimes, Rishid realised. "About things rather more concerning than a few flowers."
"You're not seriously going to hang those up too, are you?" Malik hissed, ignoring her remark in favour of glaring at the chimes. "I don't care what bullshit you read in some book, all those will do is annoy the neighbours. And me."
Ishizu didn't even bother replying – instead just stepping back onto the ladder. Malik growled in frustration and stomped upstairs to his room.
A few days later, Malik began making his way home from the local library sooner than he had originally planned, sick of studying for exams he should have done years ago. He had a pulsing headache, made all the more unpleasant by the sweltering temperature of the current early summer heat-wave. His book-bag was heavy and kept bumping painfully against his thigh. It was with great relief that he finally reached home, which held the promise of a cold drink and a long shower.
Ishizu's little bundles of outdated voodoo-bullshit were still hanging above the front door, even though the purple flowers were starting to wilt and shrivel, making the whole spectacle look even more pathetic than it had in the first place. Malik glared at them and their neighbouring wind-chimes as he approached. His headache gave an extra-sickening thump as he passed under them.
In his current mood, he didn't particularly feel like announcing his return to his sister, since that would probably lead to conversation which would, without fail, lead to him once again trying to get it through her head that they were living in the real world now. He made his way quickly up the stairs, but found himself foiled when he bumped into Ishizu in the top hall. Resigned, he opened his mouth to say hello, but her suddenly guilty expression when her eyes landed on him made him snap his jaw shut again and peer at her suspiciously.
Then he heard a voice. Coming from his sister's bedroom.
"Miss Ishtar? Everything looks fine in here, too..."
Malik stood rooted to the spot as a boy he didn't recognise came out of the room and joined them in the hallway.
The boy's eyes were a pale, clear blue – which Malik only noticed because those eyes were suddenly trained raptly on him, so wide that he wondered how they didn't simply plop out of their sockets and onto the rug beneath their feet. He also had an impressive mop of white hair, so long that even Malik (who himself had longer hair than the average twenty-one year-old male) couldn't help but think it a bit girly.
"...Malik, this is Ryou," Ishizu said finally when it became clear that no one else was going to speak. "I asked him to come here today."
"...What for?" Malik asked, puzzled. Since he'd heard the boy – Ryou, he reminded himself – call his sister 'Miss Ishtar', he'd already gathered that he wasn't some secret boyfriend she'd been keeping to herself.
"To help with our...problem," Ishizu replied stiffly, not meeting his gaze.
Her reluctance to be concise alerted Malik to what she was talking about very quickly.
"You mean the reason we have dead vegetation hanging outside our house?" he said sourly before shifting his sharp gaze back to Ryou, who was still staring at him. "So what's he supposed to be, an exorcist?"
"I simply wanted him to have a look around," Ishizu went on calmly, but Malik could hear the pleading undertone to her voice. Please, Malik, please don't make a scene. "Just to set my mind at rest..."
"Wait, he actually is an exorcist?" Malik interrupted in disbelief. He'd actually only been joking when he'd made that suggestion. "Holy shit, Ishizu, you're seriously paying some guy to come chant made-up garbage and sprinkle magic water around the house-?"
"Please forgive him," she said quietly to Ryou, looking pained. He didn't appear to be offended, though – his gaze was still fixed unnervingly on Malik, his expression holding some strange mix of horror and wonder that Malik was starting to find quite offensive.
"You're apologising?" he howled furiously. "He's a con-artist, all these people are, just stop this-!"
"But you should be pleased, Malik," Ishizu said, keeping her composure as always but looking like she'd love nothing more than to slap him across the face several times. "It seems that you were right. Ryou has said that he doesn't believe that there is anything malicious at work-"
"Actually," Ryou finally spoke up. His previously cheerful voice was suddenly hushed and shaken-sounding. "I'd like to take another look downstairs, if that's alright."
"No," Malik ground out, scowling at him. "Go home. Find some other sucker to scam."
"I'm not a fake," Ryou said in the kind of weary voice that suggested he was well used to being accused of it. He seemed to have collected himself and had averted his gaze from Malik for the time being.
"You're crazy, then," Malik shot back at him. "If you really believe in what you supposedly do."
"You don't?" Ryou asked somewhat redundantly as he slipped past him towards the stairs. "Believe, I mean."
"I don't believe in anything I can't see," Malik growled, turning to follow him. He decided he wasn't letting this apparent lunatic (or very talented actor) out of his sight until he was out of the house and at least half-way down the street.
"You're a man of science?" Ryou suggested. The slight amusement in his voice was infuriating.
"I suppose I am," Malik replied, tempted to pull his chemistry textbook out of his bag and beat this idiot over the head with it. "I like things that are real."
"...Atoms," Ryou said after a moment when they reached the ground floor again. "You can't see atoms. Do you believe in those?"
Malik blinked before narrowing his eyes dangerously.
"If you think I'm getting into some kind of debate with you over something as stupid as-" he started angrily.
"Science is the new religion," Ryou said, turning to face him. "Parts of it are proven facts, others are just theories. You need to believe in those parts or the whole thing falls to pieces. And the things that you're learning about right now? They'll become outdated. People will laugh at them one day."
Malik glowered at him silently.
"I'll be quick," Ryou promised, turning away again and going into the living room. After a moment, Ishizu followed him. Malik didn't miss the small smile tugging at her mouth. Clenching his fists, he went after them.
"Miss Ishtar..." Ryou was saying as he examined the one and only photo frame over the fireplace. "This is your father?"
"Yes," Ishizu confirmed with a nod. "He sadly passed away just over a year ago."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Ryou said sympathetically. It made Malik's blood boil. It made him want to scream. Shut up. You don't know anything about that old man. You're sorry? Don't waste your time being sorry, I'm not sorry-
No, of course I'm sorry...
But I'm not.
But I should be-
"He lived here?" Ryou went on suddenly.
"Yes, of course."
"Could I see his room?" he asked softly. "I haven't seen it yet, have I?"
"No, we don't usually go in there," Ishizu said. "It's just over here..."
She led him back out into the hallway and over to that permanently-closed door. It didn't have a lock, but it always felt like it was locked. Forbidden ground. And now Ishizu was going to desecrate it by bringing in some phoney witch-doctor.
She reached out and turned the handle almost reverently. When she opened the door, Ryou didn't even go inside. He stood on the threshold and peered into the dusty gloom – at the bed and the nightstand and the wardrobe, at the perpetually closed curtains and the books with their pages ripped out and the sheets of paper littering the desk, each page covered in illegible scrawls.
"Thank you," he said after a few moments, stepping back. Ishizu closed the door again and that was the end of it.
Clearly she hadn't noticed him flinching when she'd pushed the door open. Malik had noticed. Malik wanted to know just where this was leading.
"Ok..." Ryou said, to himself it seemed. He had a dark green satchel slung over his shoulder and he flipped it open now and started rummaging around. Malik raised his eyebrows when he saw that it seemed to be full of plants and bottles and vials of who knows what. And what appeared to be a notebook, bizarrely.
"The vervain was a good idea. Very good plant. Just...wrong form," Ryou went on, extracting a small glass bottle filled with a pale yellowish liquid. Malik thought it looked like a urine sample. "For what you need it for, the infusion is best. Just...sprinkle it around. Everywhere. Especially in doorways."
He pressed the bottle in Ishizu's hands. She looked a little taken-aback by his sudden business-like and almost urgent manner, especially since a few minutes ago he had been saying they had nothing to worry about.
"So take the flowers down, leave the chimes up...chimes are good. Replace the flowers with this." The second thing to emerge from the mysterious bag of juju was, quite simply, a pair of twigs. They were tied together with red thread in the shape of a cross. "Rowan. Planting a tree near the house is better, but...well, that'd take a while, right?"
"Right," Ishizu agreed, looking dazed as this was also pushed into her hands. Malik stood and watched grimly as Ryou piled more stuff into his sister's arms – several small pouches, which he claimed contained something called 'rue' ('roo'? Whatever) and insisted that she hang over all the door-handles in the house ; a plastic zip-lock bag of dried nettle which, like the vervain infusion/bottle of urine, was to be sprinkled all around the place; and a jar containing yellow flowers, which he told her to hang at a window. Malik had already drawn the conclusion that everything in that bag was the leftovers from the last time Ryou had mown his lawn and pruned his garden. He couldn't hold his tongue any longer when Ryou produced more of the same yellow flowers from his bag of many wonders and started to twine them through the curled decorative metal of the frame surrounding their father's portrait.
"What are you doing?" he spat irritably.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Ryou murmured.
"How very true," he sneered.
As a final flourish, Ryou pulled a sheet of paper out of his notebook and started to scribble all over it with a black marker. When he was done, the page was covered in meaningless squiggles and symbols, which Malik was sure the boy would swear blind meant something hugely important, but which reminded him of the papers in his father's room rather too much. Ryou mumbled something over the paper and placed it on the mantelpiece.
"I think that's everything I can do for now," he said conclusively.
"How much do I owe you?" Ishizu asked, looking rather ridiculous with all those things piled precariously in her arms. Malik's expression darkened.
"I don't accept payment until I'm sure the job's done," Ryou told her with a small smile. "I'll check back in a little while. And you know how to contact me if you need me."
"But...did you see something, is something here...?" Ishizu persisted, looking confused.
"Please don't worry, Miss Ishtar," Ryou said, his smile widening to the point of looking very fake. "This is all just a precaution. Things should become clearer over the next few weeks."
Malik thought it all seemed a bit superfluous for a 'precaution', and he wasn't even going to try to make sense of that cryptic final remark.
"You should go set those things up like I told you," Ryou said politely. "I can see myself out."
"Like hell," Malik growled, grabbing his wrist and tugging him towards the hallway. "Thank you very much for purging our home of scary ghosts and bogeymen, please let me see you to the door."
"Malik!" Ishizu called after them, sounding mortified. She made a move to follow.
"Please, go set up the protective charms," Ryou told her, appearing unmoved by this treatment. "The sooner the better."
Ishizu hesitated but eventually obeyed, disappearing back into the house. Malik dragged the little would-be ghost-hunter to the front door.
"Don't come back," he warned darkly. He went to release Ryou's wrist, but jumped in surprise when the boy's hand latched onto his arm with a shockingly strong grip.
"Alone at last," Ryou said, a smile very different to the one he'd shown Ishizu spreading across his face. Malik eyed him uncertainly, suddenly getting the feeling that the smile wasn't the only thing that was different about him now.
"Come get a drink with me, Malik," Ryou said – and it sounded like an order, and now he was the one doing the tugging and dragging. "You and me need to have a talk."
"Are you asking me out?" Malik said dryly, raising an eyebrow and doing his best to cover his disquiet. "Seriously?"
Ryou chuckled. It sounded vaguely threatening.
"Like I said." He gave Malik's arm an extra-sharp tug. "We need to talk."
"Are you going to force more of that supernatural bullshit down my throat?" Malik snarled, trying to free his arm but failing. The other boy's hand felt like an iron shackle.
"What, are you scared you might believe it?" Ryou questioned slyly. "Scared I might shake the foundations of your cute little science-y world?"
"No," Malik hissed.
"Then come on. Dazzle me with your logical counter-argument." Ryou gave a short crow of laughter, as if the very idea of that happening was highly amusing. "And don't make me drag you the whole way like a grumpy toddler."
By the time Malik found himself seated at a small table at the nearest bar, he was already wondering exactly how he'd let himself be (literally) dragged into this. He was going to give his sister hell for bringing this lunatic into their lives. If he made it back home without getting drugged and murdered, of course.
There was a long and mildly painful silence. Ryou, sitting opposite him, had taken one gleeful gulp of the pint of beer he'd ordered before becoming quiet and pushing the glass away from him.
"I'm...sorry to have seemed so forward," he said finally in a very meek voice. "I just...um. I really do have to talk to you."
Malik blinked, staring at the very embarrassed-looking boy with bemusement. He seemed to have regressed to the person he'd been at the house. He supposed that was something of a relief.
"About what?" he asked shortly. Ryou shifted uncomfortably.
"Those charms I gave your sister..." he started awkwardly. "I don't think they're going to work."
"...You're admitting that they're fake?" Malik questioned.
"No!" Ryou replied immediately, a small frown of annoyance creasing his forehead. "They won't work because...they repel malevolent spirits seeking to enter a place and cause harm. But what if the spirit is already in the place? Engrained, almost...?"
"You're asking the wrong person," Malik snorted. He noticed Ryou had gone back to that creepy staring thing. Except he wasn't staring directly at him – his eyes seemed to be fixed on a point just above Malik's right shoulder. "What are you looking at?"
Ryou swallowed hard, directing his gaze back to Malik's face with apparent effort.
"Your house isn't haunted," he said.
"I could have told you that," Malik replied acerbically.
"You are," Ryou said conclusively with a helpless shrug.
Malik looked at him for a long moment, unimpressed. He hoped that the level to which he was unimpressed by that statement was oozing from his every pore, in fact.
"A spirit has...attached itself to you," Ryou went on quickly, his cheeks flushing a deep red as he quailed under Malik's cool gaze. "That's why the charms won't work, they..." He hesitated, looking like he was desperately trying to think of a way to articulate. "You know biology, right? It's like a virus. The most effective viruses disguise themselves as a host cell, and so the body's defences don't attack them..."
Malik bristled. He hadn't actually reached the chapter on viruses in his biology textbook yet, so he hadn't known that, thank you very much. The fact that Ryou had unintentionally rubbed his face in his own ignorance caused his irritation to grow further.
"I didn't want to worry your sister. She must be...sensitive to the presence of spirits," Ryou was babbling on. "She knew something was wrong but she couldn't see it or identify it, so naturally she assumed it was something to do with the house..."
"But you know better, right?" Malik drawled, folding his arms.
"I..." Ryou faltered, looking away and fiddling with a strand of his long hair anxiously. "I can see them. Spirits, I mean. That's...that's why I...do what I do..."
"You genuinely need to see a psychiatrist," Malik said flatly.
"Let me perform an exorcism," Ryou said pleadingly. "If I can at least remove the spirit from you, the charms should prevent it from returning..."
"Is that what you keep staring at?" Malik interjected. "This thing that's supposedly haunting me?"
Ryou swallowed hard.
"Yeah," he said softly, his eyes wandering to that spot above Malik's shoulder again. "It's right behind you."
"Holy shit," Malik groaned. "You sure know how to up the drama."
"It keeps telling me to shut up," Ryou went on, still staring at thin air. "It doesn't like me talking to you."
"Neither do I, to be honest," Malik said shortly, getting to his feet.
"Malik, please..."
"Enough," Malik snapped, slamming a hand onto the table and looming over him. "Just tell my sister the house is safe now and she'll pay you whatever you agreed. Don't try to get any more from us. What, is an exorcism more expensive or something? Does that require really special magic herbs?"
"That thing is dangerous and it's going to hurt you," Ryou said in an urgent and slightly high-pitched voice. "Please, I'll do it for free if you'll just let me-!"
"Enough," Malik repeated in a growl, storming out of the bar. To his disgruntlement he heard Ryou scrambling to his feet to follow him.
"Please listen to me, Malik..." he begged as he struggled to match his hurried pace.
"No."
"For your sister? She knows something bad is going to happen, she won't be happy until the threat is removed-"
"Do not try to guilt-trip me."
"But if you'd just listen-!"
"Malik?"
They both stopped in their tracks and looked around to find the source of this new voice. Malik felt relief course through him when he saw that, by blessed chance, they'd bumped into Rishid on his way home from work. He forgot his rising anger for a moment as he smiled and waved to his brother, who was standing on the other side of the street, looking at the two of them with puzzlement.
"...Please, just..." Ryou started again.
"Let it go," Malik said sharply, starting to cross the road to reach his brother. "This is the last time I'll tell you. Just let it go."
"But..." Ryou said helplessly, but he trailed off before he could form any sort of argument. He was staring again. His eyes flicked rapidly between that empty spot above Malik's shoulder and Rishid. He frowned thoughtfully.
"...Alright," he relented finally. "Fine. I'll leave it alone."
"Good choice," Malik shot at him over his shoulder.
"Your sister has all my details," Ryou called to his retreating back. "Come find me if you need me. Please."
Malik snorted and didn't bother replying.
"...That a friend?" Rishid asked curiously as he approached.
"No," Malik said, shaking his head vehemently. "No, Ishizu just decided to waste some our money on hiring an exorcist."
"That was him?" Rishid said in surprise, twisting his head around to peer at Ryou, who was by now walking in the opposite direction from them. "He's really young. Not what I was expecting."
"...You knew?" Malik said in furious disbelief. "You knew Ishizu was planning this?"
"She mentioned it," Rishid told him calmly. "Don't be angry at her, Malik. She's really worried, she just thought this might give her peace of mind. She didn't do it to upset you..."
"Upset me?" Malik repeated scathingly. "Can't you see how stupid this whole thing is? Don't tell me you actually believe in that shit."
"I don't claim to know very much about anything," Rishid said simply. "Who am I to decide that these things exist or don't exist...?"
"Just shut up," Malik snapped, striding ahead of him.
When they got home, Ishizu had already taken the flowers down and hung up the twigs Ryou had given her. Without hesitation, Malik stretched up and ripped them down.
"Malik..." Rishid started wearily. He was ignored.
"Oh, there you are," Ishizu said with a small smile when Malik came into the living room, obviously not noticing the blazing look in his eyes. "Where did you go, I was- Malik, stop it!"
"We're not doing this," Malik said angrily, grabbing the jar of flowers she'd so obediently placed at the window and throwing it to the floor. It smashed, of course, and he snatched up all traces of the plants that had been contained in it. "Our lives are meant to be normal now, why are you trying so hard to make everything crazy?"
"Please stop," Ishizu said, eyeing the broken glass nervously.
"No!" Malik snarled. He pulled the flowers off of their father's photograph too. The action caused the frame to fall flat – it didn't break but Ishizu still gave a small cry.
"Malik," Rishid said in a placating sort of voice. "Don't you think that's enough?"
"It's not enough! Not until all this garbage is gone!" Malik brandished the greenery in his hands indicatively. "I can't stand it. Fuck, Ishizu, the old man is dead and gone, can't you just leave it? Why are you so convinced that he's come back to haunt us?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ishizu replied, clearly doing her utmost to keep her voice steady. "I've never even mentioned father, I've never suggested that I thought this had anything to do with him..."
"You've been thinking it!" Malik screamed accusingly. "I know you've been thinking it!"
He swept a small pile of the dried nettle off of the mantelpiece in one vicious swipe.
"Look at this stuff! Is this really the only way for you to be happy now?" he demanded, throwing the things in his hands to the floor and stamping on them. When neither of them replied, he growled lowly. "Well then fuck you."
He left the room and marched up the stairs, ignoring their calls for him to come back.
Ishizu had hung one of those pouches on his bedroom door. Scowling, he took it off. Then he went into the room, slammed the door behind him, and threw the pouch out of his window.
He sat down at his desk and hauled his chemistry textbook out of his bag. He was tired and angry and he had a headache, but he wanted to study some more. Out of spite, maybe. His father would have hated for him to read a book like this.
And after the horribly surreal day he'd had, he really wanted to read some more about things that made sense.
The palms of his hands were tingling strangely. Flexing his fingers a few times, he did his best to ignore it. He flipped the textbook open to his last page marker, and began to read.
Ryou let himself into his apartment, locking the door again behind him and letting out a small sigh. Sometimes his job really depressed him.
"Oh. You're back. That was fast."
A pair of large blue eyes suddenly materialised a few inches in front of Ryou's nose, closely followed by the skinny form of a young boy in short trousers. He was semi-transparent and floating a few inches above the floor.
"You didn't bring anyone new," this apparition said accusingly. Ryou laughed.
"Sorry, Noah," he said apologetically as he removed his shoes. "There was no ghost. No new friend for you."
"Another false alarm?" Noah questioned, folding his arms and looking unimpressed. "People are so dumb."
"No, there was...something," Ryou said absently, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. "Not a ghost, though. Something different."
"Something bad?" enquired a female voice softly. Ryou turned his head to see a young woman hovering (quite literally) nearby. Even with their lack of opacity, her long blonde hair and ornate purple gown were immaculate, and she wore a warm but concerned smile on her face.
"Yeah, something bad," Ryou said tiredly, making his way into the kitchen and switching the kettle on. "Not human. Some kind of...demon-spirit, I guess. It's attached itself to a living host, which is hardly a good sign..."
"Before you say anything, I was only playing with Mokuba," Noah interjected.
"You possessed him," Ryou corrected, his mouth quirking into a smile despite himself. "You caused a lot of damage in that lovely house. And used Mokuba's mouth to say all manner of obscene things to his brother. And me, as I recall."
"Well, I only wanted to play. It was Seto's fault for being stupid and thinking that Mokuba was just trying to mess with him. If that maid hadn't called you, he'd probably still be in denial."
"That's probably true," Ryou agreed dryly. "Seto's hardly in a minority, though."
The two ghosts seemed to pick up on his faintly bitter tone.
"Was someone unkind to you today?" the blonde woman asked gently.
"...It's nothing," Ryou said, shaking his head as the kettle finished boiling. He poured himself a mug of chamomile tea, enjoying the calming smell that immediately wafted up to greet him. "Don't worry about it, Cyndia."
"Aw, come on," Noah pestered. "Did you cross paths with a non-believer?"
"Most people are 'non-believers'," Ryou laughed. "Just...some refuse to believe a little more...violently than others."
"Who was it today?" Noah asked, sounding almost gleeful. "Did you give them a good kick?"
"No, I did not," Ryou replied, shaking his head in amusement. "Unfortunately it was the person that the...demon-spirit-thing...has chosen to attach itself to. A young guy, about my age. His name's Malik."
"I hope he wasn't too rude to you," Cyndia said with a frown. "Especially since he needs your help."
"He doesn't want my help, though," Ryou sighed. "But wow, that thing gave me the creeps. It started screeching at me the moment it realised I could see it. Very distracting. I could hardly focus on what people were saying to me."
"What did it say?" Noah asked eagerly. For a ghost, he sure did love ghost stories.
"Nothing I'd ever want to repeat," Ryou said promptly. He took a small sip of his tea, gazing contemplatively into the mug. "It gave off such a nasty aura. It's dangerous, that's for sure."
"And yet, you let the boy go," a voice suddenly boomed.
The two ghosts in the room shrank back. Cyndia put her arms around Noah, who had abruptly lost his confident smirk and swagger and looked as frightened as she did.
Ryou didn't so much as jump or spill a drop of his tea. He stood and watched dispassionately as another form appeared in the middle of the kitchen - a filmy, transparent replica of himself. Only not quite the same. The face was sharper, the hair was wilder. And the eyes were a startling shade of hellish red.
"This doesn't concern you two," the doppelganger snapped at the two cowering ghosts. "Get out."
"Cyndia, Noah, please excuse us..." Ryou murmured. They vanished into thin air without another word.
"You don't need to be so harsh with them," Ryou remarked, delicately drinking more of the hot tea.
"Why did you let the Ishtar boy go?" his double demanded furiously, ignoring the comment about his coarse manner. "You saw that thing, didn't you? Are you crazy?"
"He wasn't going to let me help, Bakura. Not today."
"You don't take no for an answer!" Bakura snarled. "Learn to be a little forceful! You need to go back. Knock him out and tie him down if you have to, just get that thing out of him."
"I'm pretty sure I'd go to prison if I did that," Ryou said, his expression becoming annoyed. "And what did you think you were doing back there? Taking over and dragging him to a bar like that! He really thought you were...I don't know, coming onto him! Which means he thought I was coming onto him!"
"Well, what was your plan?" Bakura shot back at him, rolling his eyes.
"I don't know. Something less embarrassing, anyway," Ryou said. "And then you ordered beer! I hate beer!"
"I don't," Bakura sniggered. "I wish I'd kept control long enough to drink the whole thing."
"Jerk," Ryou muttered, finishing off his tea and rinsing out the mug. "I'll...keep an eye on Malik. Hopefully he'll be there when I go back for the 'check-up', and we can decide what to do then."
"How could you let him walk away like that?" Bakura growled.
"Didn't you see?" Ryou said vacantly. "When Malik saw his brother, the spirit was...weakened. Right away. Something about the brother repressesit."
"He can't get rid of it, though," Bakura pointed out acidly.
"No," Ryou agreed sadly.
"...Is that all you've got to say?" Bakura demanded. "Why are you being so useless-?"
"Why are you getting so angry?" Ryou asked, looking bewildered. "It's not like you to care about a client."
"You have no idea what that thing really is," Bakura hissed. "I know. And I know that you need to exorcise the shit out of it."
"If you know, then tell me," Ryou said exasperatedly. "What is it?"
"...It doesn't matter if you're not going to do anything about it," Bakura said snidely. Ryou opened his mouth to tell him just how childish that was, but the spirit had already vanished. Ryou was aware of a strange silence in his mind and soul, and knew that meant that Bakura had gone off somewhere to simmer on his own.
Noah was the first to reappear.
"...Whatever you do, promise you'll never bring another one like him home," he said, scowling at the empty space that Bakura had previously inhabited.
"Why was he so angry?" Cyndia asked nervously, still looking uneasy as she came back.
"...I think I have an idea why," Ryou said with a grim smile. "I played dumb to see if he would tell me himself, but..."
Cyndia looked puzzled while Noah's face broke into a fiendish grin.
"What do you know, Ryou?" he asked, looking delighted at the idea that they were going behind Bakura's back about something.
Ryou left the kitchen and went into his bedroom, and his two resident ghosts followed. They watched curiously as he went over to the window-seat and started tugging on it – hard.
"Ryou, you're going to break-" Cyndia started concernedly just as there was a grating sound and the cushioned seat prised off its wooden frame, several nails sticking down from its underside. Ryou set it down on the floor and reached inside the base, where a considerable space had been revealed. After a moment he extracted a very thick and very old-looking book. He sat down on the edge of his bed and opened it carefully to a page he had marked with a slip of paper. He gestured for them to come over.
"Read this," he said softly, pointing to the chapter that started on the page he'd marked.
They read. By the time they were finished, their eyes were wide.
"I've been doing some research," Ryou said. He jabbed a finger at the page they were on. "That's what I think I'm dealing with."
"...And Bakura...?" Cyndia asked fearfully.
Ryou closed the book over gently and placed it back in its hiding place before wedging the window-seat back into place.
"Yeah," he said finally. "I think that's what Bakura is too."
It was dark in the basement. They had a torch but it was still dark, the shadows still clung to the corners, there were still monsters lurking behind every hulking object-
The voices were still coming from upstairs. Until they went away, they'd have to stay down here. Father didn't want any strangers to see them or talk to them or...anything.
It was cold, too. Rishid's arm around him was warm. But his feet were bare and freezing and he suddenly thought he could feel something brushing against them so he shone the torch down and – NO DON'T SCREAM DON'T SCREAM – there was a huge black spider crawling over his toes but HE COULDN'T SCREAM if he screamed Father would hear and then he'd scream lots more later and-
"Malik, get away from the window. Away! Ishizu, pay attention. Both of you, read your scriptures. Read them. Study them. Learn them. We have a duty, such an important and sacred duty. No one else can understand. We are blessed. We are honoured above all others. But the world would not understand. Others would drag you from your rightful path. Stay in here. Read your scriptures. Stay in here. Always."
The knife sliced through the skin and flesh of his back. And again. And again and again and-
He couldn't even scream anymore.
"This pain is your honour. Your privilege. The scars mark you, they show your devotion, they are a symbol of your higher destiny, your great duty-"
No. The pain was just meaningless pain. And the scars were just ugly.
Ishizu was screaming. Probably not because Father was dead – probably just because the whole scene was so horrible and copper-smelling and...and red. So much red.
He was slumped on the floor against the kitchen cabinets, his eyes half-opened and rolled back in their sockets, the gaping slit in his throat grinning widely at them. The knife was still clutched in his hand – the same knife he'd used to carve up Malik's back? It glinted red with his own blood now. God, it was everywhere. It must have gushed like a scarlet waterfall. It had soaked into his clothes and pooled on the floor and spattered the nearby table-
There was a piece of paper on the table. It had a few spots of red on it too. Malik picked it up. His hand was shaking, he noticed with dim surprise.
It was a note. Short and to the point.
NOW YOU ARE FREE.
Malik stared. He was suddenly aware of a strange sound and it took him a moment to realise he was the one making it. Rishid grabbed him in a fierce hug.
"It's alright," he said. "You're alright."
Malik laughed harder when he realised his brother thought he was crying.
When Malik woke, there was pain.
He could hear Ishizu's damned wind-chimes (the one thing he'd forgotten to rip down) tinkling in the breeze outside, and his head throbbed with every note.
His hands were burning.
He shot into a sitting position, feeling bleary and disorientated and wondering why it hurt so badly. He realised he'd fallen asleep at his desk, right on top of his textbook. It was dark now. He'd been out for a while. Someone had draped a blanket over him at some point, which was fairly embarrassing.
He groped blindly for the desk-lamp. When he finally succeeded in switching it on, he held his hands to the light to see what the problem was.
A small, startled cry escaped him when he saw that his palms and the pads of his fingers were red and swollen, the skin raw and cracked in some places. It almost looked like he'd been burned. And it hurt horribly – a fiery, itching, inflamed pain.
He stumbled to his feet and hurried across the hall to the bathroom. He turned the cold tap on at the sink and shoved his hands under the freezing water, hissing as it stung.
In his haste, he hadn't thought to shut the door behind him. It wasn't long before he heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by Rishid's voice.
"Malik? You missed dinner. I called you but you were asleep and I didn't...Malik? Are you alright?"
Malik turned around and displayed his hands wordlessly, not trusting himself to speaking in anything but a panicked garble. Rishid gave a sharp intake of breath.
"What happened?" he asked in concern, holding one of Malik's wrists gently while he examined his palm.
"I don't know," Malik managed in a voice that came out far too much like a whine for his liking. "I just woke up, and..."
"...Ah. Maybe you're..." Rishid started tentatively. "Maybe you're allergic to one of those plants you were...handling."
Malik bit back a harsh laugh. Maybe you're allergic to one of those plants you tore down like an asshole. Have some karma, dick.
"Come on," Rishid said. "We should put some ointment on that."
Later that night, when Malik's hands were bandaged up and he had fallen into a fitful sleep (in his bed this time), he was paid a visit from a young man who, had he been awake, he would have identified as a self-proclaimed exorcist named Ryou. Except, upon closer inspection, Malik might have amended that slightly. He might have said that this was the Ryou that had shot him a wicked grin and dragged him all the way to a bar with a vice-like grip on his arm. And he would've been right.
Bakura stood over the sleeping boy's bed, looking down at his prone form without much interest.
"...Aren't you going to come out and play?" he asked finally, a cold smirk curving his mouth. "I know you're there. Are you scared?"
There was a deathly pause, and then a second translucent figure slowly materialised. Wisps of what looked like purplish-black smoke converged together and finally took on the form of a human male who looked an awful lot like Malik Ishtar. But just as Bakura's appearance differed slightly from that of his host, so did this creature deviate somewhat from the original; its blonde hair stuck out from its head in a frenzied halo of spikes, and its face held none of Malik's youth or...basic humanity. Just a malicious slash of a grin and a pair of hungry, shark-like eyes.
"There you are," Bakura said, smirk widening.
"...Of all the fraudsters and showmen that woman could have called in, she just had to choose that boy, didn't she?" the creature hissed softly, its wild eyes raking over Bakura. "Not only does he have the sight, he has a friend like you..."
"Friends aren't for beings like us," Bakura replied with a quiet laugh. "Ryou's gift makes him useful to me. It's a partnership, at best."
"Ah," it said silkily. "I wondered why you weren't feeding off his soul."
Bakura scowled darkly.
"I don't need to feed off the souls of mortals these days, you insect," he spat. "Look at you. You can't even be parted from the boy yet, can you?"
"My power grows every day," the creature snarled. "I can leave this room without him. Soon I'll be able to wander the whole house. And then..."
"I doubt you'll be around that long," Bakura interjected, his smirk returning full force. "You know how this works, don't you? We've found one another, and so both of us cannot go on existing. My host will exorcise you from this boy, and when he does..." He paused to lick his lips in a disturbingly feral manner. "You're mine."
The creature snorted, appearing unmoved.
"Wherever did you find such a useful little mortal?" it wondered aloud.
"Oh, he found me," Bakura said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just his poor fortune. He crossed paths with my last host – a man with a murdered family and a rather intense vengeful streak. I was having fun with that one. But Ryou just had to step in to help him. Unfortunately for him, after he'd performed the exorcism, he had no option but to bind me to his soul instead. I wasn't leaving."
"What a stupid child," the creature said with a toothy grin.
"Ryou does a good exorcism," Bakura said, looking faintly amused. "He just doesn't know what to do with the spirit once it's over. His apartment is like a pound for the unquiet dead."
"...I found this one all by myself," the creature said slyly, leaning over Malik and gazing into his sleeping face with something that came close to adoration mixed with bloodlust. "It wasn't so hard. You can feel it, can't you? The very walls of this house resonate with all the hate and anger and blood that have seeped into them. It's delightful. And what a fascinating child he is..."
"How long have you been lurking in this house?" Bakura asked.
"...A while," the creature responded with a throaty chuckle. "I had to make him perfect. He was always such a delicious muddle of love and hate – fighting each other – but it wasn't enough." Its grin became manic. "The father had to go."
"Good to know you haven't been idle, at least," Bakura remarked. "I expect you to at least entertain me when the time comes."
The creature gave a bark of laughter.
"The pleasantries are over, then?" it asked.
"Very much so," Bakura confirmed. His form started to fade away. "Next time we meet, I'll tear you to pieces."
Malik had, perhaps foolishly, assumed things would start to quieten down after he'd put his foot down rather firmly on the whole supernatural issue. Of course, he was wrong.
A few weeks passed and Ishizu only grew more and more agitated. She jumped at any sudden noises and would rush off to investigate if something in the house shifted or fell over – because the idea that it could have been the wind was just ridiculous, apparently. She continually insisted that objects had been moved, that doors had been opened, that something was here. Malik found himself starting to worry about her.
She came home one day and marched into the kitchen, where Malik was sitting at the table eating a sandwich. She had a bulging paper bag in her arms and a determined frown on her face.
"I went and I bought more of all the things that Ryou gave me," she informed him. "I'm going to put the charms back in place, and you are not going to tear them down this time."
"...Fine," Malik conceded moodily. He supposed he could only hope that his strange allergy thing was just touch-based. "If it'll make you calm down."
Her expression brightened immediately, and Malik thought maybe this would be the end of it. Just let her have her placebo and it'll all blow over.
He was wrong again.
That night, he was suddenly ripped painfully from sleep by noises – bangs and crashes and the slamming of doors and the smashing of glass. And then he heard his sister scream and he was out of bed and running for her room before he even realised it – Ishizu didn't scream, the one and only time he'd heard her scream was when they'd found their father's bloody corpse in the kitchen, and what could possibly compare to that-?
Rishid was already there, with one arm around Ishizu's shoulders. She had a hand clapped over her mouth and was clearly doing her best to calm her breathing.
Her room was a wreck. All her belongings looked like they'd been picked up and rearranged by a miniature tornado. But that paled in comparison to her mirror. They all stared at it, lost for words.
There was a sizeable spiders-web of cracks in one corner, as if someone had punched it. But even that wasn't the worst. The worst thing was the writing, smeared across the mirror's surface in red lipstick which looked very much like blood at first glance:
NICE TRY.
Malik felt cold fear trickle into every cell in his body.
One tiny corner of his mind wondered why he recognised the handwriting.
They sat up together all night, and in the morning Ishizu announced that she was going to call Ryou. It didn't even occur to Malik to disagree.
Ryou arrived at the house in record time, looking out of breath and a bit dishevelled, as if he'd just rolled out of bed and ran all the way there. Ishizu let him in, and his very presence made her look calmer than she had since the events of the previous night.
"Show me," he said politely but shortly. Clearly there were more important things for him to think about than greeting them. They led him upstairs without a word and opened the door to Ishizu's room. He looked at the scene of destruction with clear worry, and then he frowned when he saw the mirror.
"Looks like it's decided to play games..." he murmured.
"What has?" Ishizu asked nervously.
"The reason you called me here in the first place," Ryou replied simply. He had his satchel with him again, and from it he produced a jar of greenish powder, which he began to sprinkle around the room, being extra generous around the mirror. Malik opted not to question this or tell him to stop. The powder had a strong smell, though, and it made his eyes sting and water. Glancing at Rishid and Ishizu, he noticed that they didn't seem to be feeling any ill-effects.
"Leave that a few hours, then it can be vacuumed up or whatever," Ryou was saying, putting the lid back on the jar.
"This house isn't safe," Ishizu said, shaking her head. "We shouldn't stay here..."
"It's not the house," Ryou said quietly.
"...What?" she asked, looking lost and scared all over again. Ryou cast a pointed look at Malik.
"Shall we?" he said, gesturing towards the stairs.
"You want to 'talk' again?" Malik said with as much annoyance as he could summon under the circumstances. It wasn't much.
"That would be very helpful, yes."
Ishizu and Rishid looked on in confusion as they went to leave. Ryou shot them a smile over his shoulder.
"You'll be safe for now, Miss Ishtar," he said. "And I'm sorry this happened. I'll do my best to fix it."
They ended up in a cafe instead of a bar this time. Ryou said he needed coffee. Malik, who had been awake since around three in the morning, had to admit he felt the same way.
"...That thing following you around is getting stronger," Ryou said after a lengthy, awkward pause. "In case you hadn't noticed."
"You're still on about that?" Malik mumbled, pouring a sachet of sugar into his Styrofoam cup of coffee.
"And you still don't believe me," Ryou sighed. "Impress me, then. What does science have to say about what happened in your sister's room?"
"...I don't know," Malik admitted, staring at the tabletop. "I can't think of any explanation that makes sense."
"Well then," Ryou said almost primly. "Maybe we could go with my explanation until a more 'sensible' one presents itself?"
Malik peered at him for a long moment.
"You really do believe in it, huh?" he said finally. "You're not kidding at all."
This realisation made things a little more unpleasant for Malik than they already were. He'd had to live under the rule of a man who believed steadfastly in his own delusions. In his experience they were a dangerous sort of people.
"Saying that I 'believe' implies a shred of doubt," Ryou replied dryly. "Or that I'm acting on some kind of blind faith. That's not the case. I don't 'believe'. I know. I see them."
"Oh yeah," Malik said dully. "I forgot."
Silence descended once again. Malik was waiting for Ryou to make another plea to be allowed to exorcise him, but it didn't seem to be forthcoming.
"...So what's it like?" he asked conversationally. "Being able to see them."
Ryou blinked and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the question, clearly thinking he was being made fun of. Malik just shrugged and waited for an answer.
"It's like living in a world where everyone else is walking around with their eyes closed," Ryou answered with just the slightest touch of spite. "And even though I'm the only one with my eyes open, no one wants to listen to me."
"I'm listening now. Intently," Malik said, propping his elbows on the table and cradling his face in his hands. "Ok, so you've got your eyes open, you see things we mere mortals can't. So what do they look like?"
"What?"
"Ghosts and whatever. What do they look like?"
"Ghosts look exactly the same as they looked when they were alive," Ryou said with evident frustration. "What were you thinking of, a bed-sheet with holes cut out?"
"So what does the ghost haunting me look like?" Malik asked suddenly.
Ryou blinked.
"It's not a ghost that's haunting you," he said, looking mildly horrified that he clearly hadn't explained it well enough in the first place. "Ghosts are the souls of people who have died. Ghosts are human. This thing isn't human."
"What, then?"
"A...spirit. Not a nice one, either. A demon, I suppose you'd call it."
"And what does it look like?"
"...Non-human spirits don't have a human form of their own," Ryou said uncomfortably, looking away. "They...borrow the appearance of their chosen host. So it looks like you."
"Aw, that's a cheat of an answer," Malik said with a grudging smile.
"It's the truth," Ryou replied with a shrug. "Did you think it would have horns and a tail or something?"
"...Actually, I thought you'd tell me it looks like my father," Malik said as casually as he could. "You seemed awfully interested in his photograph and his room. I sort of figured that was what you were getting at."
Ryou shook his head.
"No, your father's spirit has moved on. I don't know where he is now, but he's not in this world," he said. "I think he might have played a part in all this, though."
"What do you mean?" Malik asked guardedly.
Despite having said that he needed it, Ryou hadn't touched a drop of his coffee. He kept turning the cup nervously in his hands while its contents simply sat and went cold.
"There's a lot of...darkness in your home," he said hesitantly. "It's almost like echoes. Of pain, and bad feelings like anger and hate. And the echoes are loudest of all in your father's room."
Malik remembered Ryou's wince when Ishizu had opened that door, and found himself very close to believing him.
"I think that darkness is what attracted this demon to you," Ryou murmured. He released the coffee cup and clasped his hands together instead, threading and unthreading his fingers fretfully. "Could...could you tell me about your father?" Malik's head snapped up at the question and Ryou flushed deeply. "I'm sorry, I'm sure that sounds rude, but it might help me work this out..."
"I don't like to talk about him," Malik said shortly. "Not even with...people I know well."
"Yeah, I'm still kind of a stranger, aren't I?" Ryou said with a quiet, sad-sounding laugh. "Well. What if I told you a little about me in return? We could swap sad stories."
"...You could easily lie," Malik pointed out.
"So could you," Ryou returned. "That's up to you. I think it might help you to talk about it, though."
"...You go first," Malik said gruffly, crushing his now empty cup in his hand.
"Alright," Ryou agreed mildly. He put one elbow on the table, leaning his chin against his palm. "My full name is Ryou Bakura. I was born in a city far away from here. For as long as I can remember, I've been able to see and communicate with spirits wandering this plane. I had two good parents who loved me despite being confused by my extremely high number of 'imaginary friends'. I had a little sister named Amane who was three years younger than me. She always believed in the things I saw."
"Sounds nice," Malik remarked. He tried his very best not to sound bitter.
"The children at my elementary school were not as understanding," Ryou went on, sounding very detached. "When I was very young, I didn't appreciate that no one else saw some of the things that I did. I struggled to tell the difference between the living and the dead. The other children just saw me talking to thin air. And of course they thought that was strange. First they laughed at me, then they avoided me altogether." He paused, pursing his lips slightly. "But children get meaner as they get older. By middle school, they'd got bored with ignoring me. Then the school decided to teach us about the Salem witch trials. That sure caught everyone's interest. Since everyone had decided by that point that I was creepy as well as just strange, they thought I ought to be marked."
He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and turned his palm towards the ceiling to display an odd symbol on the underside of his arm. It was a rather inexpert circle with an equally askew five-pointed star inside it. Malik knew from grisly experience that it was a scar. He had plenty of his own, but it still made his stomach turn.
"A bunch of thirteen year-old kids with a craft knife they stole from art class," Ryou said, tugging his sleeve back down. "My parents transferred me to another school. Not that it changed anything."
"I hope those little bastards got expelled," Malik muttered. Ryou just shrugged.
"When I was fourteen my mother and sister were killed in a road accident," he continued, still in that same calm, almost indifferent voice. "Neither of them came back. I always thought that was unfair. There are so many ghosts that I can't help move on no matter what I do, and yet the only two I wished would have stayed..."
He trailed off, his eyes distant and wistful. At length he dragged a hand through his hair before shooting Malik a bright but very obviously forced smile.
"My name is Ryou Bakura," he said again. "I have no friends among the living, because it's too difficult – and painful – to get close to people while having to hide something from them because they won't believe it. I've never been on a date and I don't expect I ever will. I live with two ghosts and even though I try to help them move on, part of me doesn't want them to leave because then I'll be alone again. But I won't...lie and pretend to be normal. Because sometimes the dead need my help. And at least they're usually thankful for it."
Malik looked at him silently for a long moment.
"...You live with two ghosts?" he questioned finally.
"Yes," Ryou confirmed with a small laugh. He looked like he didn't care whether he was believed anymore. He just wanted to say it to someone. "Noah and Cyndia. Noah was causing some trouble for the siblings his father adopted after his death. Cyndia's husband made a pact with a demon and attempted necromancy to resurrect her. He sacrificed his left eye for the ritual, and it was a...success. Technically. But demons are tricksters, at best. He managed to bring back Cyndia's spirit, but he couldn't restore her body, and as long as she was in spirit-form, he couldn't see or hear her..." He bit his lower lip. "It was very sad."
"And you helped those people, huh?"
"It's my job."
"Seems like it's more than just a job to you."
"You could say that, yeah."
"...Your devotion is...admirable," Malik commented, his eyes drifting towards the now-hidden scar on Ryou's arm. "If a little crazy."
"Thank you," Ryou replied with a smile. "...Your turn."
Malik sighed heavily.
"It's pretty simple," he said, shrugging. "My father was a bad man. But he's dead now. So...it doesn't matter."
"You could tell me anyway," Ryou suggested. He sighed again.
"...I never knew my mother," he started slowly. "She died when I was born. I'm told that she was something of a calming influence in the house. My father practically kept her prisoner but...she never went against him. She held things together. But the moment I was born – the moment she died – everything went to hell."
"What did your father do?" Ryou asked softly.
"He was sick," Malik said darkly. "Sick in the head. For no reason other than his father had been sick in the same way, and had made sure he ended up just like him. I would've been next. Me and my sister. And he tried to make us that way, he really tried. We weren't allowed to leave the house. We had to hide in the basement if any stranger ever came in. We never went to school. He insisted upon home-schooling us. Except he only taught us about all the bullshit in his mind that wasn't even true. Real crazy stuff. He taught us that we were the blessed, chosen servants of a dead god-king, and that this king would come again someday and we'd have to be ready."
"Some kind of cult?"
"I don't know where the whole god-king thing came from. He got it from his father, and I guess he got it from his father. Who knows where it started? Point is, it's bullshit. And now I'm twenty one years old and I'm studying my ass off just to get a high school-level diploma, because my father didn't let me learn anything about the real world when I was a kid."
"You're remarkably well-adjusted for someone who never got to be outside," Ryou said uncertainly. Malik snorted.
"I went outside. I wasn't allowed outside, but I went anyway. Rishid is eleven years older than me. Before my mother passed away, I'm sure she made him promise that he'd look after me and Ishizu. Make sure we didn't turn out total freaks like the old man. Father would go off to work during the day, and Rishid would sneak us out. Then as we got older, father started getting even more crazy. I didn't think it possible, but he pulled it off. He'd hole himself up in his room for days on end, not even coming out to eat. So then we went outside even more." He scowled. "I wasn't scared of him by then anyway. I got taller than him."
"Did he hurt you?" Ryou asked tentatively.
"Yes," Malik said bluntly. "He seemed to like hitting us. And I can beat that little carving on your arm, by the way. He was pretty artistic when he put his mind to it."
Ryou visibly flinched.
"But then he died," Malik went on abruptly. "Slit his own throat. An appropriately crazy death. End of." His scowl deepened. "It was Ishizu's idea to put his photograph up in the living room. People on the street were already whispering. She said it would look suspicious if we didn't put on a show of mourning him normally."
"That must have been hard," Ryou murmured.
"...Here's a thing," Malik said, not looking at him. "He left a note. When he died, I mean."
"...Yeah?" Ryou prompted when he didn't continue.
"It was written in English. I thought that was weird. My father never wrote in English, he had his own bizarre set of symbols that he called an alphabet. And...that message, on Ishizu's mirror..." He trailed off and bid a fond farewell to a life that made some sense. "The handwriting was the same."
Ryou didn't look all that surprised.
"This demon played a part in your father's death," he said quite plainly. Malik blinked before giving a harsh laugh.
"Wow. So I should be grateful to it?" he sneered. Mere seconds later guilt flashed across his features and he fell into a sullen silence.
"You hate your father," Ryou said. It wasn't a question. Malik opened his mouth to protest but Ryou ploughed right on. "But you tell yourself that it's pointless to hate a dead man. You try to move on but you can't. You're stuck in a vicious cycle."
"Whatever," Malik mumbled.
"The demon feeds off of those feelings," Ryou went on matter-of-factly. "It...exacerbates them. It wants those feelings to become everything you are because when that happens, it can take over you completely."
Malik stared at him.
"Sort your feelings out and you'll no longer be any good to it," Ryou said conclusively. "You don't have to forgive your father. Even just accepting that you hate him would be an improvement. Then the demon should leave you and your family alone."
"...What, you don't want to wave a crucifix at me?" Malik questioned, making an attempt at a smirk. "Maybe some holy water...?"
"I don't want to perform an exorcism, if that's what you mean," Ryou interrupted. "I...I don't think it'd be a good idea."
"You're the expert."
"I'd also advise you to stay close to your brother," Ryou said, hauling the conversation back to the original topic.
"Rishid? Not that I was planning on moving away or anything, but why?"
"He weakens the demon," Ryou told him, a fond smile curving his mouth. "I suppose he must love you very much. Selfless love. Demons hate that stuff."
"Along with cute puppies and candy canes, I bet," Malik sniggered. Ryou rolled his eyes.
"Come on, we should head back," he said, getting to his feet. "Hopefully I'll be able to give you something to help keep that thing under control until you get yourself all...untangled."
Malik followed him reluctantly out of the cafe. It was hard to feel scared of things that couldn't possibly exist out here on the brightly lit street, bathed in early morning sunshine, but back at the house, he'd start to doubt himself again. That mirror was hard to argue with.
"Don't give me any of that herbal crap," he said irritably. "You should've seen the allergic reaction I took to that stuff you gave Ishizu."
"You reallythink that was an allergy?" Ryou asked, raising his eyebrows. "Really?"
There was a surprisingly companionable silence as they walked along. Malik found himself wondering whether he'd still see Ryou after all this craziness was over. He even found himself thinking that that might not be such a bad thing.
Then it happened.
What 'it' was, Malik wasn't entirely sure. All he knew was that it felt like his world had been split in two, and the fissure was running directly through his brain.
"Malik?" he heard Ryou said in alarm. His voice sounded far away and fuzzy. "What's the matter?"
He couldn't speak. He felt like white-hot nails were being driven through his skull. And oh God, there was a voice, not far-away like Ryou's voice but in his head and it was shrieking with laughter.
The shackles are off, Malik! It's been fun but I think it's really time you left...
"What are you doing? Stop it!" Ryou was shouting. Malik dimly realised that he was now on the ground. "Leave him alone!"
"Ryou," Malik managed dazedly. "There's a voice in my head."
"It's alright," Ryou said soothingly, laying a hand on his forehead and using his other hand to pull something out of his pocket. A cell phone. "It's ok, just hold on a sec..."
Through the pain and the maniacal laughter, Malik couldn't help but wonder who Ryou needed to phone at a time like this. Except perhaps an ambulance. That would be good.
"Miss Ishtar?"
Ok, or his sister.
"Miss Ish- please, calm down. Tell me what's happened."
Whatever Ishizu's answer was, Ryou clearly didn't like it. His face went pale and his blue eyes filled with panic. His voice remained impressively calm.
"Alright, please take care of him. There's something I need to do."
He hung up without allowing Ishizu to ask just what that might be. Malik was pretty curious too.
"...Something's happened to your brother," Ryou said hesitantly. "He's hurt. Your sister says he's unconscious."
"What?" Malik croaked. "What happ-?"
"I don't know," Ryou interrupted. "Don't worry, she'll look after him and do whatever needs to be done. But listen to me, for as long as your brother is incapacitated, that demon has nothing to restrain it."
"It's real," Malik said in horror. "I can hear it-!"
"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," Ryou said. "Can you walk? We need to get to my apartment. It isn't far."
"...Why...?"
"Because," Ryou said grimly, "it looks like you're getting that exorcism after all."
Malik didn't know how they made it to Ryou's apartment, but one way or another, they did. He could barely see as Ryou ushered him inside – the pain in his head was so intense that his vision was starting to blur. And the voice never stopped. It kept telling him how it was going to destroy him, how it was stronger than him now and he stood no chance, his body belonged to it now and he might as well just quit-
Ryou wasted no time. He dragged Malik from the hallway and into what was apparently his bedroom, and immediately started rummaging around frantically for his tools of the trade, whatever they might be.
Malik glanced down and noticed that the front of his shirt was soaked with blood. As he watched, deep wounds started to appear on his hands and arms. Blood oozed everywhere. Then the blood turned black.
"Ryou..." he tried to call in a slightly strangled voice.
"Whatever you see, it isn't real!" Ryou shouted back, his head buried in some drawer. "It's messing with your mind, don't give in to it!"
Malik shut his eyes tightly, but it didn't help. He heard voices in the darkness – garbled, screaming voices, and above them all he could hear his father telling him to read his scriptures-
He opened his eyes again and saw three long silver blades protruding from his chest. He moaned quietly.
Ryou finally seemed to have everything he needed. He dumped everything rather unceremoniously on the wooden floor before grabbing a fat stick of chalk and drawing a large circle on the floor around them.
"This circle is a protective shield," he recited rapidly, clearly eager to get this stage out of the way. "This circle keeps me safe within, no harm can enter in..."
He quickly traced some shapes and symbols in the air with his chalk, as if it were some mighty sorcerer's staff. He set out four candles around the circumference of the circle and lit them. Then he stood up straight and glared in Malik's direction – though Malik knew by now that he wasn't glaring at him.
"Formalities over," Ryou said, narrowing his eyes. "Now get out."
Malik heard that voice in his head chuckle darkly. To his horror, he felt his mouth move totally against his own will to form words that weren't his own.
"Aren't you even going to say please?"
"Get out of him," Ryou hissed, snatching up a bottle of oil from his arsenal on the floor. He pulled out the cork and poured a small amount onto his fingertips before coming towards him. Malik saw rather than felt his own hand shoot forward to punch him hard in the face.
"Ryou, oh God," he managed to yelp.
"Damnit, Malik, fight it!" Ryou commanded, coming forward again as if doing so posed absolutely no danger to his face.
Malik did his best – he shut his eyes again and tried to block out the voices, tried to force his body to remember who was really in control-
Ryou's oil-covered fingers touched his forehead. It burned and he couldn't help but cry out.
"I'm sorry, be brave, it'll stop hurting soon," Ryou was saying even as he daubed more of the oil onto his throat and then his hands. After a pause he pulled on Malik's shirt, bursting a few of the buttons, and smeared it on his chest too. Malik felt like he'd faint from the pain, and he was used to pain. But the demon was screeching too, it didn't like the oil one bit, so he would endure it-
"Last chance," Ryou said threateningly. "Get out."
"Filthy mortal," Malik heard his own voice hiss. "You shit, you son-of-a-whore, you-"
"That's a no," Ryou growled. He went back to his pile of mismatched objects and picked out a shallow dish containing a black powder. He set it on the floor and promptly dropped a lit match into it. It burned brightly and with a smell so acrid that Malik nearly choked. And Ryou was suddenly muttering something, in a language he didn't understand – Latin-?
The demon roared and howled like a wounded animal. Malik felt like every nerve in his body was screaming along with it – he fell to his knees and bit down furiously on his lower lip to keep himself from yelling.
He looked up and hazily noted that there were two people standing over him. He could see through them but they were very much there. A little boy wearing a stubborn frown and a young woman with an encouraging smile.
"Don't give up," the woman urged him.
"Seriously, don't," the boy ordered. "Being dead kind of sucks. You don't want to try it."
Malink blinked groggily. Ryou's chanting was getting louder and his body felt like it was being torn apart as the demon fought and struggled.
"You can fight too, you know," the boy told him. "Don't make Ryou do all the work."
"If you want to live, you have to fight," the woman added more gently.
Malik wasn't sure exactly how he was meant to 'fight'. He tried his best to focus his thoughts on how much he wanted this parasite gone from him – get out get out I don't want you I don't need you, you killed my father and I don't care but you killed him before I could defeat him, before I could tell him that I knew it was all a lie, before I could just walk out of there, YOU STOLE THAT FROM ME, NOW GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!
Something snapped, something shifted. Malik's eyes shot open.
Ryou, seeming to know that something had changed (in their favour, Malik could only hope), reached out and grabbed what appeared to be a sharp kitchen knife from his jumble of equipment. Malik stared in shock as, without hesitation, Ryou drew the blade across his own palm, cutting deep and drawing blood. The still-burning powder hissed and sizzled as some dripped onto it.
"Now get out," Ryou demanded, throwing his arm out to his right. Drops of blood flew out in an arc and Malik saw the demon follow it, he saw it-!
He slumped, limp as a ragdoll, as he realised it was over.
Ryou ran to him and stood over him protectively. The demon stood outside the protective circle Ryou had cast, glaring and spitting at them. It still looked like Malik but...emaciated. Weakened. The edges of its human form were dark and wispy.
"What are you planning to do now?" it hissed. "You can't stay in that circle forever, you can't-!"
It cut itself off with a gurgling gasp as a fist suddenly appeared through its chest. Its eyes bulged for a moment – and then it was gone. It burst into a plume of purple-black smoke.
Malik stared, stricken. The fist belonged to a newly-appeared figure – one who looked a lot like Ryou. As they watched, this figure appeared to absorb the putrid-looking smoke that had once been a demon.
"How disappointing," it said sardonically. "I told it I wanted to be entertained."
Malik noticed that Ryou was still standing over him, his body tense. He didn't think that meant anything good.
"What's the matter, Ryou?" the white-haired figure asked pleasantly. "I destroyed it. You can come out of there now."
"I don't think so, Bakura," Ryou said softly.
"...No?" Bakura questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"It seems a little convenient that Rishid Ishtar was injured so soon after we learned that he suppressed that demon," Ryou said levelly. "And I knew it couldn't be in two places at once. Which leaves me one other suspect."
Bakura threw his head back and laughed.
"You caught me," he sniggered. "Sorry, Ryou, I had to force your hand. That thing was no use to me while it was attached to the boy."
"I know," Ryou replied, narrowing his eyes. "And I know why you wanted me to exorcise it so badly."
Bakura laughed again. It was a chilling sound.
"Oh, I know that you know," he chuckled. "Did you really think you could hide that book from me? Did you think you could go behind my back...?"
A wide, vicious grinned stretched his mouth.
"Looks like your usefulness has reached its end, Ryou," he said. "My, that thing's really given me a boost. Let's see how strong this circle of yours is, hm?"
Malik wondered if he'd gone completely insane somewhere in the course of the morning as he watched an aura of that same dark smoke surround Bakura. His manic grin widened and then he suddenly leapt at them. However, the moment he crossed the circle's chalk boundary, Ryou reached out one more time, and snatched up a large glass bottle, half-filled with clear liquid and what appeared to be thorns and rose petals. Bakura's expression of malicious glee became one of transfixed horror in the brief moment he had to see it.
"...I banish you," Ryou whispered.
There was a deafening whistling noise, like a gale-force wind, and then the black smoke was engulfing Bakura's body and siphoning itself into the jar.
"Ah," he said with the sly grin of one who knew this was only a temporary set-back. "Looks like you really did manage to go behind my back..."
The bottle swallowed him up. Ryou jammed a cork in it and wrapped it in a dark cloth. The room was left in a shattering silence as they both caught their breath.
"...What was that?" Malik gasped out at length. Ryou gave a nervous titter of a laugh.
"You're not the only one to have caught the interest of a demon, you know..." he replied breathlessly.
Malik eyed the bottle nervously. Ryou shook his head.
"He won't make it out of here any time soon," he assured him.
"...You're bleeding," Malik said stupidly, staring at Ryou's hand, which was almost completely red.
"Don't worry about it," Ryou said, grimacing as he looked at it. "Are you ok?"
Malik managed to stand up on shaky legs. He suddenly realised he felt about ten tons lighter. Like he'd previously been carrying some massive boulder on his back without even noticing.
"...I saw people," he said as he remembered, glancing around the room for them now. It was empty. "Two people! A boy and a woman, they were talking to me..."
"Yeah..." Ryou said, doing that nervous laugh again. "Noah and Cyndia. You came close enough to death to see them."
Malik blinked a few times.
"I told you I live with two ghosts," Ryou said with a smile.
"But..."
"Cyndia is blonde and wears a beautiful purple dress," Ryou interrupted him, his smile widening. "And Noah wears shorts and has hair in a rather fetching shade of teal."
"...Right," Malik said with a dazed nod. "Right..."
"Come on," Ryou said, holding up his bloody hand. "Let me get this bandaged up. Then I'll tell you what the hell just happened."
About an hour later, when all the mess had been cleared away and Ryou was no longer bleeding everywhere, they sat together on the window-seat, Ryou having retrieved the book that had been not-so-effectually hidden there. They'd called the Ishtar home and had been informed that Rishid had made something of a miracle recovery. Malik was willing to bet that he'd sprung awake the moment Ryou had corked that magic bottle of his.
Ryou opened the book to the correct page and told Malik to read. He obeyed without a word. From what he could gather, it was a very old book of legends, and this particular legend was meant to be relevant to the near-death experience he'd just had.
Long ago, in the days of our forefathers, the Demon Lord Zorc Necrophades wreaked havoc upon the earth, using his dark power to plunge all of mankind into madness and despair. The people cried out to be saved. And thus the great god Horakhty rose up to challenge Zorc. There was a great and bloody battle – the two titans moved mountains and drained oceans in the midst of their fighting, and the people could only quake in fear and wait.
Finally, Horakhty triumphed. Light was restored to the land, and all of mankind rejoiced.
But Horakhty could not destroy Zorc, for he was made from the darkness in men's hearts, and that darkness will never cease to exist. And so, Horakhty split Zorc's soul into a great number of small pieces and scattered them throughout the world.
But Zorc's power was greater than Horakhty knew. Each tiny fragment of his soul became a malevolent demon, each infused with Zorc's evil and desire to destroy mankind. These fragments began to seek each other out. Whenever one encountered another of its kind, the two would do battle. The victorious demon would absorb the defeated one, and its power would grow. If, in this way, all these demon-fragments came together to form one being, the Dark Lord Zorc would be restored to once again cover the earth in darkness.
Knowing this, and yet weary from the long battle, Horakhty sacrificed his own two eyes, giving each a spirit form that they may be his eyes on earth. These spirits were charged with hunting down the fragments of Zorc's soul, and sealing them away within a magical pendant crafted by Horakhty himself. One spirit was bound to this pendant, which was to be worn by a chosen mortal from each passing generation, and this mortal would share their body of flesh with the spirit to assist in its quest. This spirit became known as the Vanquisher. The other, who remained without an earthly body, became known as the Searcher, forever wandering the world in search of demons to direct its comrade to.
With this accomplished, the great god Horakhty lay down for his final rest.
Malik read it once, then read it again.
"...You think that's what they were?" he questioned finally.
"Bakura pretty much confirmed it," Ryou replied with a shrug.
Malik mulled this over.
"So..." he started slowly. "The only way to get him sealed away properly, is to find this Vanquisher guy, right?"
"Yes," Ryou said with a nod. "The seal I made will hold him, but it's still...risky. Bottles can get broken. So...I need to find the person who has this."
He turned to the next page and pointed to a picture, supposedly of that magical pendant that Horakhty had whipped up back in the day. It was a sketchy artist's impression, but it was clearly pyramid-shaped, with a large wadjet eye peering out at them from the centre.
"...The legend originated in Egypt," Ryou offered.
"No kidding," Malik said dryly. He paused and shifted slightly. "So...that's a pretty small thing to find in a very big world."
"It is, yeah."
"Want some help?"
Ryou blinked, and then his face broke into a sunny grin.
"That'd be nice," he said happily.
End.
IT'S TWO IN THE MORNING I DON'T KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE ;A;
Yeah, I...I dunno.
In case I didn't make it clear, Atem is the 'Vanquisher' and Shaadi is the 'Searcher' xD I probably didn't make it very clear...
THIS IS SO WEIRD, I'M SORRY. I'M ALSO SORRY IT'S SO LONG.
I'm thinking of posting details of all the plants and occult-ish stuff Ryou used on my livejournal, because researching stuff for this story was the most fun part x3
If you read all the way to the end, I CONGRATULATE YOU.
Fiver x