December 28, 2005
My last fanfic for a long time. I hope you enjoy the innocence of it. I would've labelled it G, but I really do not understand the new rating system (I've away from for quite some time), so I'll just label it K+ because there are some swear words.
My favourite character is in here: Yami Bakura. But, for the sake of my hands, and for all our sanities, I will refer to him as Bakura.
I'm standing on the bridge
I'm waiting in the dark
I thought that you'd be here by now
there's nothing but the rain
No footsteps on the ground
I'm listening but there's no sound
He walked through the silent park, shivering despite his best efforts to ignore the persistent cold. He ran a pale, calloused hand through his white hair, annoyed with how long and tangled it had gotten over the past few days. He sighed bitterly when he realised that he wouldn't be able to cut it -did he dare say it?- for sentimental reasons. He spat at the ground in disgust. That wasn't the right word, but, then, he never was very good with them.
He frowned at the sky, laden with heavy, dark clouds ready to pour. He wasn't used to this feeling of vulnerability, nor did he like it. At least when he was the master thief he had someone larger, stronger at his disposal, through-out the ages he had the magic of the ring to call upon. And now? He looked down at the lifeless, cold pendant hanging from his neck. Nothing. He had nothing.
Isn't anyone trying to find me
Won't somebody come take me home
His thoughts turned bitter as he thought about his past, about what he had become. He had never believed in fate or destiny, because if it was truly there, then it had done a damn good job of ignoring him. He stopped and meandered down that thought for a while, the trail turning dark, twisted, and venomous. The moon watched him silently as his lifeless blue eyes sparked with life that had been long forgotten.
Bakura shook his head and, once again, his eyes went dead, his face set in its usual arrogant grimace. He had survived for so long without the aid of others, surely he did not need any now? He knew the answer, but he did not like it. His pride always seemed to get in the way and his ego seemed to inflate larger than his old dreams of world conquest. Something held him back, something larger than his pride or his lust for vengeance.
Fear, a small, quiet voice in his head whispered.
He was unable to fight this old opponent, and knew full well that it would come back despite hours of fighting and brooding and sulking -not that he had ever admitted that he sulked. He was quite ready to hit the tree, but something stopped him.
It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are but
I'm with you
A young girl, perhaps no older than seven, was sitting on a park bench, gazing intently at her pink shoes. She tilted her head forward ever so slightly, her pale yellow hair obscuring her brown skin. She seemed oblivious to the cold, and to him, for that matter, and continued to stare at her shoes with such fierce concentration that it seemed that she would go cross-eyed any minute. Bakura scoffed and tried to stride past her normally, but found himself at a brisk pace. This escape plan would've worked if he hadn't glanced over his shoulder and saw a single tear course down her calm face.
He snarled out loud, effectively startling the girl out of her trance. She hastily wiped away the tear and slid off the bench, putting on a tough face that was broken by her trembling lower lip and shining eyes. She did not seem to notice the cold drops of rain that splattered on her nose, nor did she seem to pay any mind to Bakura's tall height and fierce glare.
"Wh-who are y-you," she stammered, her eyes trying to copy his stare.
I'm looking for a place
I'm searching for a face
Is anyone here I know
Cause nothing's going right
And everything's a mess
and no one likes to be alone
He tried not to look surprised, but it proved difficult so he settled on looking amused. She tilted her chin up arrogantly, as if challenging him to say something. Bakura smirked, still disbelieving that someone so small could be so... so... He sighed. He really wasn't good with words.
Bakura stopped walking. He looked over his shoulder and raised an eye-brow. That child had been following him. She caught him looking and averted her gaze, as if somehow believing that he would be able to harm her with one look. If this had happened a couple of weeks ago that would've been possible, but now...
He shook his head and walked on, ignoring the rain that had suddenly begun to fall harder and faster than it had a minute ago. After a moment or so he paused to look over his shoulder, then stopped himself. He shook his head and walked on. This was ridiculous. If this child was able to stay in the park, on her own at this hour, then, surely, she was capable of getting on her own. But, for some reason that he could not fathom, he felt the need to make sure that she was there.
Isn't anyone trying to find me
Won't somebody come take me home
He looked over his shoulder and felt his heart beat painfully when he saw that she was no longer trailing him. He looked to his right and almost jumped in surprise when he saw her standing next to him, head bowed. She chanced a look and surprised him yet again by locking her crimson eyes with his. There was something familiar about those sad eyes that he almost felt sympathetic.
"You're alone, aren't you?"
He cocked an eyebrow.
She sighed stepped a little closer to him. "You have no one who cares about you, either, don't you?"
Bakura wasn't sure what to say, having little to none experience with children. Was a child supposed to have eyes that sad, that hurt?
"Did someone abandon you?"
Was a child supposed to look so defeated and so broken?
"Or did you run away?"
How could someone so young look so devastated?
It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are but
I'm with you
I'm with you
She had stopped talking, and he had stopped asking himself any questions. This was ridiculous! She was only seven, for crying out loud. It wasn't like as if she had lost her parents. Bakura hesitated. Maybe she had... Damnit! Why was this so hard? He had killed hundreds before reaching the age of sixteen, had seen his parents slaughtered before him when he was ten, and this small, defenseless child was unnerving him? Why?
She stared at him with those piercing eyes. He unable to tell if she was crying, or if it just the rain coursing down her round face. It was pouring, and it was cold. He could see her shivering, but she was moving. Her head was up proudly, but her eyes were cast down in shame. Why did that face seem so familiar?
Why is everything so confusing
Maybe I'm jut out of my mind
Before he knew what he was doing he had his own hand gently clamped around hers, his calloused, experienced hand dwarfing her small, slender one. She looked at him in surprise. For a moment it seemed like as if she would pull away, but instead, she accepted his touch and squeezed his frigid fingers. She, too, could not seem to find what it was about him, this tall, frightening young man, that made her trust him so. She pushed her soaked hair out of her eyes and smiled tentatively up at him, wide eyes hopeful yet fearful.
Yeah yeah-yeah, yeah yeah, yeah
Bakura blinked at her in surprise and realised that he hadn't smiled, actually smiled, in almost three millennia. It felt alien to his face and, yet, it came easily. He was sure that he had forgotten how to smile.
He pulled her closer to his side and walked more slowly, more carefully, guiding her out of the park in the pouring rain. He was sure that they were an odd site, a tall, mean-looking boy with a short, innocent young girl, walking in the driving rain, smiling for no apparent reason.
Maybe he did have something, after all.
It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are but
I'm with you
I'm with you
Yes, that song is overdone, but I felt like it fit in with the story -in its own odd way. I hope you enjoyed it. A different type of fluffiness, no? But I got the desired result, so I'm happy. Au revoir. Look in my bio for recommandations on writers and their fics. I won't be around for a while. It was great while it lasted. Bye.