Living Death

This is a Gift-fic for fAtAlflAme… I wanted to make a fic for her, but she doesn't know YGO. So I asked, 'Well, what can I write for you? That's what I know best,' and she replied, 'Just as long as it has a pairing with one of the good looking characters, Ryou, Bakura, Malik, or Marik, with each other.' At least, that's how I interpreted it. XD And now you have this.

Lots of love goes out to Computerfreak101. I couldn't have gotten any of this out if I hadn't suggested my idea to her, and she not only beta-ed it, but helped write scenes that I was having trouble wrapping my head around…

Also, this is the only OC in the story… --; I'm pretty sure, because I haven't completely planned this. Don't pay him too much mind. Oh, and it may start off a bit slow, but… try to wait it out, please. :3

Disclaimer: Compy and I own nothing. Unfortunately, Compy unwisely said that she did, in fact, own Bakura, and is now currently hiding from the angry, blood-thirsty lawyers in Mexico.

Prologue: A Promise

Kazuya Tetsuga wasn't one to believe in predictions. He didn't believe in any superstitious nonsense like 'magic' or 'divination' or anything of that sort; even when he was young, in a family of four children, he was the only one not to be mystified or frightened by their mother's stories about tricky kitsune or mischievous tanuki. But as soon as he had awoken that morning, Kazuya had gotten the oddest nagging feeling that the day would be strange.

To his utter surprise, the feeling was proven true; not five minutes after he had finished his breakfast, he had gotten a phone call from his daughter who was studying overseas at a fine university (something he hadn't been privileged enough to be able to afford himself – perhaps the reason he had been so determined to give her the education she deserved). With her always so busy with her studies, the phone calls from her were few and far in between, usually reserved for special occasions. Today most certainly wasn't one.

"I just wanted to check up on you," she said in a playful tone when he voiced the question running through his mind. "Can't I check up on my father every once in a while?"

He laughed and said yes, he supposed she could, and they chatted merrily for a good half hour about life. By the time Kazuya bade her farewell, and they had both said the obligatory, heartfelt 'I love you' and hung up, he was in fine spirits. Though oddly enough, that nagging feeling hadn't gone away – the feeling that something big was going to happen that day. If anything though, that phone call had qualified as the 'something big', and Kazuya pushed the feeling into the deepest, darkest part of his mind.

The stern-faced man focused on something else much more important, relevant, and tangible. His refrigerator was looking rather bare. Of the food that was there, most of it was either rotting, green, or growing fur. What didn't kill you would make you stronger, the saying went, but even he was reluctant to partake of any of them.

So, just half an hour later, Kazuya found himself in the grocery store scrutinizing fruits for bruises, and wondering if the freshest items really were kept behind the rest of the stock as his wife had always insisted, may her soul rest in peace.

The apples aren't very good today, he couldn't help but think as he turned over another shiny red apple only to find an ugly bruise on the other side. Downright disgusting, what the stores considered acceptable to sell these days.

Kazuya felt an insistent tugging at his pant leg. Looking down, he was surprised to see a little boy who looked to be no older then six or seven, maybe even younger, standing at his feet. He had long, thick hair falling around his face in layers, so white that it put Kazuya's own thin, graying hair to shame. The child was pale, sickly perhaps. No, Kazuya mused, that wasn't right; the boy wasn't sickly, but he certainly didn't look like a healthy child. And he was thin, terribly thin; the small arms, legs and torso were on the verge of being lost in clothes that would have fit an average-sized child. It was the boy's eyes, however, that grabbed Kazuya's attention. Wide eyes, a light mocha and somewhat blank (Kazuya would have said haunted, if he believed in the word's meaning), gazed up at him, bright with curiosity.

Kazuya paused, looking left and then right. There was no mother in sight. But that couldn't be right – why would a small child be wandering alone in a store? Especially with all of those weirdos these days… Hesitantly, he squatted, ignoring the small crack in his back – he was sure he would regret that later. Kazuya sighed internally. He was just as aware as the next man how suspicious it was for him, a grown man, to approach a child like this, but he couldn't just leave him alone.

Almost at eye level with the boy, he smiled at him and said, loud enough for any eavesdroppers or curious folk to hear, "And how can I help you, young man? Where is your mother?"

The boy stared at him, and Kazuya couldn't help but wonder if he spoke Japanese. Perhaps he was the child of an immigrant or tourist, with skin that pale… but then the boy finally responded.

"Please say hello to Amane for me."

Well, that certainly wasn't what he was expecting to hear. Kazuya scratched the stubble on his chin, regarding the boy curiously. "Amane? Is that your mother's name?"

"No," said the boy in a dreamy voice. "No. Amane is my sister."

"So you are here with your sister, then?"

"No," came the simple response.

"Then I'm afraid I won't be able to," said Kazuya, not unkindly. Straightening up, once again ignoring the strain on his old limbs, he smiled down at the boy gently. "Now how about finding your mother?"

The boy was silent until, without notice, his eyes began to water. "Please say hello to Amane for me." It came out as a desperate whisper.

Before Kazuya could open his mouth however, the child was swept off his feet into the protective arms of a woman whom Kazuya assumed to be his mother. The woman looked her child up and down carefully, and when she had deemed him unharmed, curtly nodded at Kazuya. Rocking the child back and forth, she looked down at him and murmured, "You weren't too much trouble for the kind gentleman now, were you Ryou?"

Ryou shook his head fiercely.

"I can assure you that he wasn't a nuisance in any way, Ms. …?

"Bakura."

"I want creampuffs," said Ryou suddenly, looking up at his mother with his eyes wide and pleading. His mother frowned, and Kazuya could see the internal struggle behind her eyes, so much like her son's. Her child had left her, disobeyed her orders to stay near her, and had been found with a strange man that could have done...who knows what? But when a child is looking at his mother with his eyes begging silently and that pouting lip, and when she knows that child didn't mean to do wrong, her resolve crumbles. As a parent, Kazuya knew this feeling all too well; rules were rules, but children always found a way to wriggle under, above, and around them. Finally, the mother in the woman won, and she reluctantly put him down.

"Stay where I can see you, you hear?" she said, and the boy nodded, trotting off as fast as his small legs allowed him to the pastry stand two aisles down. She allowed herself a brief, fond smile before turning back to Kazuya.

"I never caught your name before," she said, her eyes sweeping over him critically.

"Ah, Tetsuga. You have a very friendly son."

She laughed quietly. "It's strange to hear you say that. He's usually so quiet… Ryou is very shy."

"I would have never guessed."

"Are you sure he didn't bother you?"

"No, don't be silly. I've had children of my own, you know – a daughter, actually, she's at college now – yours is quite tame compared to how she was," he remarked with a small chuckle.

"Mmm…"

There was silence, not too awkward, but not exactly comfortable either. Kazuya was not a man who liked silence, and when he saw Mrs. Bakura glance over her shoulder to check up on her son, he decided to ask her something that had been tugging at his mind ever since Ryou had approached him.

"Actually, he did ask me to do something the rather confused me."

"Oh really?" She turned to regard him with curious eyes. "What did he ask?"

"Well, the boy – Ryou, you said his name was? – Ryou mentioned someone by the name of Amane –" He stopped, and immediately knew he shouldn't have said this girl's name. Ryou's mother had gone very still, her face losing much of its color. Her eyes widened, and her jaw grew slack before snapping shut to form a grim line.

Kazuya, uncomfortable with the reaction, hesitantly stumbled on with his question. "He… er… wants me to say hello to her, though I don't understand why..."

If anything, he had made things worse. The woman's face was ashen white, almost as pale as her son's hair, and the air about her had become incredibly tense and wary; her eyes, hardened and glistening with unshed tears, snapped over to Ryou, who was now eating a cream puff and talking animatedly to the vendor.

"Mrs. Bakura…?" Kazuya swallowed, unsure why the mention of the girl's name had caused such a reaction from the younger mother. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she said, her voice tight, almost a full octave higher. "Ryou!" she called. "Come back, we need to finish the shopping!" Ryou jumped, startled out of his conversation, before waving goodbye to the vendor and running obediently back to his mother, powdered sugar staining his mouth and a large cream puff in each hand.

"Mrs. Bakura," said Kazuya suddenly, as she scooped up Ryou and placed him in the shopping cart, ignoring his squirms of displeasure, "Mrs. Bakura, please, if I said anything to offend you –"

"No, no, it's alright," she whispered, almost to herself, wheeling the cart away. "You couldn't have known." She turned, looking at the bewildered Kazuya; she had made her face carefully blank. "Amane was my youngest child, and only daughter. She died last year."

She left Kazuya stunned among the apples and banana stand, wheeling the cart away and down the nearest aisle with more speed than was necessary. Ryou waved to Kazuya over his mother's shoulder and mouthed, "Don't forget!" before he disappeared from Kazuya's line of sight.

-o-O-o-O-o-

Kazuya was in a daze throughout the rest of his shopping. Time seemed to slowly bleed before him, as he thought about his meeting with Ryou Bakura and his mother. It startled him when he realized he was already up at the checkout line, paying for the mounds of food placed in plastic bags and dismissing the bag boy's offer to wheel the cart out to his car.

"Say hello to Amane for me!"

But how can I? thought Kazuya, slamming the trunk door down and returning to the driver's seat, listening to the familiar hum of the engine as he fastened his seat belt. Amane is…

"Amane was my youngest child, and only daughter. She died last year."

Ryou Bakura didn't look like the type of boy to let grief twist his mind, or allow himself to sink into denial, no matter how young and impressionable a child's mind is. But then again, the older man told himself, what did he know about that boy, that pale, thin little boy from the Produce aisle?

Absolutely nothing, that's what, he thought grimly.

"Say hello to Amane for me!"

But she is DEAD… So why –

"LOOK OUT!"

Kazuya's eyes widened and he sharply turned the wheel, throwing his body weight against the door.

Tires squealed.

People screamed.

Metal hit metal with an enormous –

CRASH!

-o-O-o-O-o-

Ryou's mother drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, taking slow breaths to calm herself, and hopefully hold back the tears that threatened to pour down her face at any moment. Staring determinedly out at the road, practically glaring at the car ahead of her, she said, in a carefully controlled voice, "Ryou, you shouldn't go up to people and bother them like that, especially about... the accident. I don't want you to ever bring it up again. Especially not to complete strangers! Do you understand?"

"Yes," Ryou nodded absentmindedly before his eyes widened and he sat straighter in his seat, his attention caught by something else outside the car window. He let out a dramatic gasp, pushing himself up as high as he could to get a better view. "Look, Mommy! Look at that!" Ryou's mother turned her head and breathed in sharply.

At the side of the road there were two heaps of mangled, cracked and twisted metal, all that was left of two once fine cars. The hood of one had been forced open; the front was crushed inward and smoke billowed out of it in dark clouds. Ambulances and police squad cars surrounded the scene, overseeing crowd, taking notes from witnesses, and trying to calm the hysteric driver of the other car. What grabbed Ryou's attention, though, was a middle-aged man shaking his head, face somber, before pulling a white sheet over a very familiar face. The other driver cried harder, tears dripping down her face, shaking her head and screaming apologies to ears that would never hear again, while onlookers watched with expressions of horror, sadness, and shock. It had all happened so fast...

Mrs. Bakura's mouth formed a surprised 'o', and she crossed herself, lips moving silently in prayer for the departed. Ryou continued to watch, hands and face pressed against the glass. He was, quite obviously, transfixed.

"Don't look, dear," his mother said in a hushed voice, turning away from the awful sight.

Ryou, however, smiled brightly, and waved at the white bundle on the pavement, whispering a request too soft for his mother to hear. "Don't forget to say hello to Amane for me!"

And a message from Compy: She hopes you like it, and will send out a rabid (sugar-high and wielding a very big gun, apparently) Bakura after any flamers. Oo I didn't know she had that kind of power, but whatever. She also says that I'm the best boss ever… XD I love you too, Compy.

I'm young and willing to learn, guys, so give me constructive criticism and help me improve please – even if it's just how to improve this chapter. :)