The Children in the Wind

Disclaimer: me not own yugioh. Ok?

Thoughts/speech

Regular

"speech"

'mind link'

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Bakura's Pov

He was sitting near a headstone in a graveyard. Something was not right.

He listened, as the wind picked up. He could have sworn he heard childish laughter.

Then he saw her. Ghostly pale, as the moonlight shone though her.

Come and Play with me heard her say, even though her mouth did not move.

He smiled and obliged, with a sudden urge to trust her. Ryou would not mind….especially since he told Bakura to go away. He figured he needed to give Ryou a little room so that they could both sort out their anger.

He stood up and took her hand. It was icy cold. So cold, it was like death.

He shivered involuntarily. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

He turned to his newfound friend. "Listen, I really should get home, Ryou is probably worried…."

He gazed into those eyes and stopped.

Those eyes, those eyes, those eyes…..

'Bakura!'

A sharp cry in his mind snapped him into reality.

'R-Ryou w-where a-a-are y-you?' He stopped then. Why was he stuttering? He felt so sleepy, so sleepy…..

A pale, ghostly hand ran though his hair. How soothing…were his last thoughts before slipping into darkness.

Ryou Pov

Ryou stared at the child who held his yami, his Bakura, in her grasp.

"Mine!" he shouted at her. She giggled. How amusing he could hear her say without opening her mouth.

"He is mine! You have no right!" Ryou shouted again.

He's mine now, and its your own fault he heard her say, almost scolding.

Ryou was confused. He never did anything.

You wished him away…The girl smiled mischievously. And I've come to fulfill that wish…

It all came back to him in a rush. That careless wish! But it was too late to take back now.

The Ring always fulfill it's bearers wishes…was all he heard before the ground evaporated and he was left lying on the ground.

'Bakura?' he called, but got no answer. Ryou stared to cry. He cried and cried until there were no tears left to cry.

'Bakura, come back!' but there was no answer, save the wind rustling by, sounding suspiciously like childish laughter.