Always Better on the Other Side

Warnings: An odd little piece, with a smidgen of violence, but nothing very impacting. Also, there's an OOC Ryou, but that's explained early on.

Time Period: Warped post-canon.

Prompt: This is my half of an art trade with Djpunupipi over on deviantART – her gallery's awesome. If you like pictures involving Bakura and tutus, you'd be well advised to go over there.

She asked for Tendershipping, but other than that had no clue what she wanted. In the end, I took a hint from the gallery, deciding that Ryou was going to troll and/or torture Bakura as he'd done in so many of her drawings. Also decided that it had to be somewhat goofy, as I've been writing too much serious contest stuff lately.

Enjoy the mayhem.

Feedback: I can haz? To anyone lead here from dA, you need no account here to 'review' (FFDotNet's comment equivalent).

Djpunupipi has my full permission to copy this work and place it on her dA gallery, providing she gives me credit for writing it and provides a link to this (it'll probably get more attention over there, too, seeing as she's so awesome and all that). All yours, m'dear!


The movie clerks certainly raised eyebrows when they saw him – a young man of perhaps nineteen, hair as white as his pale skin, unaccompanied by any small children, going to see a movie. This in itself wouldn't be quite so weird – if only the young man hadn't been ordering a ticket for an unpopular movie targeted at six – year olds, if only he hadn't been holding that teddy bear quite so close to his chest; or, come to think of it, if he hadn't been holding that teddy at all. If only he hadn't stared at that ticket with a slightly unfocused look, before muttering incomprehensibly…

"Erm… Sir?"

"You got it wrong."

With a dreamy expression, he held out the ticket towards the three clerks, two of whom shrank away. The poor girl left in charge of dealing with this somewhat unhinged member of society took the piece of paper in shaking hands, with only the most barely audible of curses. "I don't see anything wrong with it."

The stranger nearly banged heads with her as he leaned over the counter to point out the terrible mistake. "See?" One scarred digit jabbed at the little word in the corner; 'Adult'. "It should say 'Child'." A solemn look. "I am almost old enough to get a special 'Student' ticket. Other me says so."

"Okay, I'll… um… I'll print one up right away."

And in a mumbled hiss: "Someone, find his doctor!"


The teen toddled down the hallway, his face wearing an oddly peaceful expression as he flashed his ticket in the face of the surprised tender. "Hang on a sec, this says…" The man in the suit blinked, looking over the young man's shoulder at the cashier, who was making frantic hand gestures at him. "Oh. Yes, go through. Theatre Five, third on the left."

"Thanks, Roland", the teen bowed in reply, slipping past him and into the theatre, blissfully ignoring the somewhat amusing monologue which followed:

"Roland?! Sheesh, that's the third time this week… First the guy who thought he was a millionaire, then the guy who tried to give me a papercut with his Winged Dragon of Ra trading card…"


The problem with sealing all your Millennium Items away, Yami Bakura decided with a grunt, was the whole having–to–move–house thing. Atem had gotten to go to the big, presumably comfy afterlife, and Yami Marik had already been living inside Marik's head, so no problems there. But Bakura had been perfectly happy in his labyrinth of darkness inside the Ring, thankyou very much. The spirit certainly hadn't appreciated being crammed into Ryou's soul room, which was already chock–full of books on the occult, books on conspiracy theories, and knives.

…Yes, knives. For some obscure reason, there were knives everywhere in the kid's head – ceremonial daggers on the wall, throwing knives embedded in a dartboard (which, the spirit noted with approval, had various unflattering pictures of Yugi's friends pinned to it), and a whole collection of butter knives, carefully arranged in order of collection day. Perhaps the kid had learned something from Bakura, after all. The spirit had to admit that Ryou had decent, if slightly immature, taste for a human – though he did have to get rid of a few things in the boy's head to make room for himself. For instance, there had been on arrival a big, dusty box of DVDs marked (insult to injury!) "Yu–Gi–Oh!". The combination of an appalling title (it should have been "Bak–Ur– Ah, Yeahhh!", at the very least) with Yami Yugi's smirking face on the covers made Bakura understandably upset, so these were promptly stabbed with the useful set of steak knives in the corner.

…Come on, it wasn't like Ryou was going to want to remember any of his experiences from over the last five seasons – oops, years. He didn't need the damn box, anyway. Nor did he need any of the DVDs marked "The Secret Life of Me" (1); Bakura had seen to it that those had been stabbed second. After all, they were just taking up space - in a soul room as cramped as Ryou's, it was going to be a tight fit - and besides, the spirit knew for a fact that it wasn't exactly like Ryou was going to want to remember anything Bakura had accidentally (and maybe a little deliberately) done to him…

Right?

Wrong, as it turned out. Wrong, because now Ryou couldn't remember any of his experiences beyond his sixth year in life, and Bakura couldn't repair the goddamn DVDs; much like the real world items, they were tetchy over the smallest scratch, let alone the sort of destruction Bakura had wreaked upon them. Needless to say, his 'friends' avoided the nineteen–year–old–turned–eight like the plague, leaving the kidult to–

"Other me?"

How many times have I told you, you don't need to talk at me! , the spirit growled inside his host's head, and Ryou giggled shyly.

"Lots?"

Just think what you're going to say!

"But… but that feels weird." From the wave of emotion that hit him between the eyes, the kidult was pouting now, big dopey brown eyes all full of puppy look and… yuck, he hated cute.

It looks weirder if you say it out loud, the spirit snapped back. Bakura had to be infinitely patient with the eight-year-old, and oddly enough found that his own rages were becoming lesser in number. The general cheeriness of Ryou's soul room seemed to be rubbing off on him, and it was a bit of a worry, really – one time, he'd almost decided against slapping Yugi's puppy when the latter had the nerve to stuff it in his face.

Emphasis on the 'almost' part.

"But… Other me…"

Bakura knew automatically that Ryou's lip was quivering, those huge and dopey eyes filling with tears, and grimaced a little at the host's general pathetic nature. Talk about undignified – Marik, as Yami Marik so proudly liked to say these days, was running his own criminal network at age ten, and even Yugi had some merit to him. Trust Bakura's terrible luck to net him what had to be the worst freaking permanent host ever; a weakling beyond weak.

...Thank whatever creature watched over the two of them, the theater was empty.

Fine, talk! Tell me whatever it is you want, now. And make it quick!

"Are you going to watch the movie with me?"

N–

"Pleeeeeeease?"

Bakura's boredom got the better of his usual refusal to do anything – now that his purpose of bringing the Dark One back had been effectively jeopardized by stupid Yugi and stupid Pharaoh and stupid everything dammit, it wasn't like he had anything better to do. This had been happening more and more often lately, and he had so far regretted every occasion he had done anything at all with his host. Still, this at least didn't involve scissors or glue, so surely it couldn't be that bad.

Besides, if he didn't accept, Ryou would pester him until either the movie finished, or Bakura folded out of embarrassment. For all he knew, more people could come into the theatre, possibly medical staff who wished to put Ryou in a straitjacket. For the sake of keeping up a sane act, it was probably best if they didn't hear the kidult yelling at himself.

Oh, fine.

With some effort, the spirit manifested at Ryou's side, floating over the chair next to the human. It wasn't as easy to do as it had used to be, when he'd been inside the Ring and could use that as an anchor point, but he managed it… somehow. It preyed on his patience, but he could tolerate a little frustration.

What was substantially less tolerable was the movie he was supposed to watch; or more specifically, the running commentary that went with it. First came the Showing of the Stupid Promotional Cards, pieces of junk that Bakura couldn't care less about; though he had to admit that the tenacity of the producers in putting out the "Evil Blue Eyes Dragon With Six Heads" and expecting kids to actually like it was phenomenal. Then again, maybe the kids did like it - never mind that it was Absolutely Useless in the context of an actual card game, the sort that only teens and adults got to play. These days, it seemed to be all about the kids...

Of course, the real torture only started when the jabbering ads for the Candy Bar (and by extension, the constant pleas for candy) stopped, and the film actually began.

"Look, Bakura! This one, his name is Yuu–sei! And this one, his name is Jay–den, and this one, his name… or maybe her name, anyway, it's Yubel, and this one– ooh, this one, this one, his name is Yuuma, and he's really cool, and–"


Thirty – six minutes in, and Bakura was done with this pathetic excuse of a movie. The spirit was certainly not a fan of Yugi in general, but there was something about the way the midget was shoved to one side to make was way for Three Idiots With Even Worse Spiky Haircuts that made him seethe. Ryou squealing every single goddamn time Pegasus was crushed by a falling building didn't help his mood.

"Other me!"

Silence.

"Other meeeeeee?"

Silence.

"OTHER MEEEEEEE, ARE YOU LISTENING?"

Snore.

"WAKE UP, OTHER MEEEEEEEE!"

Groan.

"…You don't give up, do you?"

"Never give up! That's what Yuusei says, an' then he jumps on his motocycle, all broom broom and–"

"Spare me. What is it now?"

"Ah! Well, what do you think of the movie?"

"It just gets dumber and dumbe–"

"KATTOBINGA! JET JET JEEEET!", went the speakers, and there was a horrible silence from the audience.

Then: "…Other me? What are you doing?"

It should be noted that by this stage in proceedings, Ryou's 'partner' was stalking back to the crammed confines of the other's mind, burying his face in a Zorc pillow. I am… – and here, a grunt – …not going to watch any more of this – this… what's it called…

"The Yu–Gi–Oh Super Official Movie That Definitely Doesn't Suck?"

Amazing, how good that eight year old's memory was. Bakura supposed it had something to do with all the space freed up in his head, from the totally accidental destruction of the DVDs. Yes. That.

"But… but… what are you doing?"

With a snort, Bakura broke directly into Ryou's consciousness, throwing him out of the control room and slamming the door.

Just shut up and lemme drive. We're going to watch something much, MUCH better than this drivel.

Oooh, what is it?

A cruel, uncharacteristic smile flickered over 'Ryou' 's lips. Well. You'll have to wait and see.


In all fairness, the tender did try to stop the strange teen from entering the VIP premiere screening. Approaching from behind, he gave the young man a good tap on the shoulder, even as the aforementioned attempted to pick the lock with a… was that a trading card?

"Sir… are you lost?" He wouldn't have been surprised if the kid had said yes; from what 'Roland' had seen of this one before, he seemed the type to wander about a bit.

What he wasn't expecting was for his charge to turn on him with a look that could have taken out an entire city, and certainly had caused mass fainting of fangirls on previous occasions. "I'm not lost."

"M–may I see your ticket?"

The teen tossed his head towards the door, and there was a gasp and a thump from further up the hall. You really didn't need to look to know what had happened to the all–female medical team who had been coming to collect a recently reported case for the psychiatric ward.

"Let me in here, and I'll think about it."

"I am sorry, sir–"

"So you should be. Now, open the damn door!"

"–but I'm going to have to make you leave."

Silence.

Silence.

Gulp.


The VIP premiere of Blood, Guts and Assorted Body Bits Everywhere was, as it turned out, a total disaster. Oh, the gore was certainly gore-y, and the murder scenes certainly did a somewhat exaggerated justice to the dismembering power of the chainsaw. But… well, none of it could compare to the nightmare that was the events going on in the theater itself.

It began, as one man in a deerstalker hat would later recall, six minutes and fifty one point three seconds after the movie started.

"OH GOD! Other meeeeee! Are you seeing this?"

A pause filled with chainsaw noises, then; "AIEEEEEE! H–his head… EEEEEEK!"

Frantic shushing from the audience, a gargling, more chainsaw noises, then: "NOOOOOO! MUUUUUUMMYYYYYYY!"

His mouth suddenly dry, the pale boy leaped to his feet, staggered out of the theatre, clutching his stomach in pain, and threw up both loudly and violently.

All over, as it turned out, the not–exactly–breathing body of 'Roland', lying just outside the doorway.

"Ack! I–I…" The teen turned and ran without another word – I say 'without another word', because he was screaming by this stage, and the scream had no comprehensible word or words to it. This was just awful, horrible, and bad, very bad, and the very baddest word he could think of applied as well, which is to say that it was terrib–

Powerful arms caught him in a tight grip before he could finish his word. "Sir, are you all right?"

"N…n… Go die in hell!"

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Turning on his heel, the teen ever–so–casually stepped over the fresh body–

Whirled, his face the picture of horror. "Are you alright, Mister?!"

Somehow, the security guard was still alive; his eyelids flickered."C–call an ambulance."

"O…oka– Damnit, I'm getting soft! You should have died on the third stab! Right. Let me pull out this knife, and I'll just–"

Thunk.

"WAAAAAAAHHH!"


For the listening VIP audience, everything went rather quiet after that point (well, aside from the squelches and general squicky noises coming from the movie). But it was a bit late for that now – the enjoyment of the movie had been utterly compromised, and all because someone had died quite realistically outside the door. The flick hardly seemed to have the impact it was supposed to; how could it, when no–one actually died in production?

It's said that some producer or other had a quiet word to his assistant, just to see if 'that bloke out there' could be hired on the spot for his 'amazing portrayal of Two–Face'…


It was a simple matter for Bakura to steal a taxi. This may not have been so simple for other nineteen year old human males, but Bakura was no mere mortal. Thus, it was a simple matter for him.

It was also a simple matter for Bakura to drive aforesaid taxi through several backyards, skid around every freaking corner when they were on the road, yell at other drivers for driving in the wrong direction (because Bakura was always right, and what would they know about driving anyway?), and eventually run over Ryou's mailbox. Again, this may not have been so simple for other nineteen year old human males, but Bakura was no mere mortal. Thus, it was a simple matter for him to do all this.

However, it was not – so – simple a matter to calm down his still–screaming host. It wasn't like the cries and wails of eight – year – old horror were… something Bakura cared about, he supposed… but it certainly was annoying. Almost annoying enough to make him want to go back and watch that movie with his host, just to make Ryou shut up.

Emphasis on the almost part.

Racking his (somewhat limited) experience with human emotions, Bakura came up with a grand total of zero things he could possibly do to get his bloody hikari to, quote: 'shut his goddamn mouth, for Zorc's sake'. Thinking that last phrase at his host as loudly as possible had absolutely zero effect on the teen, and further loud thoughts had very much the opposite effect from intended.

"Look," he spoke out loud, "There was nothing I could do–"

Ryou broke off his screaming somewhere around that point, letting loose with a single, harsh, choked sob. Y–you didn't do it?

"Of course I did, git. Like I said, there was nothing I could do – except stab them. Hard."

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA–

"BY ZORC'S EMBARRASSING DRAGON HEAD, WILL YOU STOP THAT ALREADY?!"

He could have sworn that, if at all possible, the shrill scream went up another octave.

–AAAIEEEEEEEEEEE–

Bakura growled in pain, one hand on his temples as he slammed his way past the front door, sitting on the couch. "Shut up. Shut up. Shutupshutupshutupshutup–"

EEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeahh? A deep intake, then: AAAAAAAAAAA–

"Ryou, you don't have to actually breathe when you thought–scream. You could scream for a good half–hour, without going blue in the face… oh no."


"Shut up."

Thunk.

For the somewhat amused neighbors looking in at the evening's entertainment, it was certainly a strange sight to watch. With perfect precision, the criminal mastermind's pale forehead smacked into the coffee table, lifted a moment, then came down again.

Thunk.

"Seriously. Stop it."

Thunk.

Half an hour had gone past since Ryou had been told about not having to breathe when screaming in Bakura's thoughts – Zorc, why the heck did the spirit tell him that, he sincerely wished he hadn't now – and the situation was getting dire. If Bakura didn't do something soon, he was going to…

To…

Kill more people? No, not that, that would only make Ryou scream even more.

Break Ryou's friends? Exactly the same effect.

Trash Ryou's soul room? No, because he'd already – sort of – done that.

Nope, he was going to lose it altogether. Become a saint. Suck up to Yugi, even. Anything, anything, anything to just make this git shut up.

The cra– laptop in the corner caught his eye somewhere around that point, probably because he was so entrenched in his own despair. With a guttural noise located somewhere between 'utter disgust' and 'total desperation', he picked up the little device. Examined it a moment. Bashed his face on it a few times, to see if anything–

Google Search: |asdfghjkl|

Urban Dictionary: asdfghjkl

1) An expression of frustration for IM; Used in desperation when no other words will do. (2)

The spirit took a sharp breath – somehow, the weird little thing understood him! So, returning to the hunt (or perhaps more appropriately, the search):

Clickclickclickclickclick.

Google Search: |ryou screaming bakura|

Six seconds later, he had a myriad of solutions to the problem. Quite detailed solutions, with lovely descriptions of what he would do, and what Ryou would do.

What a useful site this 'FanfictionDotNet' place was…


"AIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE–"

WHAM!

"–ack!"

Bakura growled from his position, shoving Ryou none too gently into the noticeboard of his soul room, blue eyes flickering down a moment to read off the script clutched in his hand. "All right. No more… um." He held it up to his partner. "What's this word say?"

A short–sighted squint. "Playing?"

"All right. So, no more playing. Or screaming. Okay?"

"B–but–"

"NO. MORE. SCREAMING. Or I'll pull out a knife, and mutilate you in six different ways, stab the spikes of my nonexistent Millennium Ring into your chest, tear off your pretty clothes, gag you, whip you until you're… erm… well, not screaming any more, I suppose… and–"

"MUUUUUUUUUMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

The spirit staggered back, clapping his pale fingers over his ears. "Owowowowowowowowowowowow!"

With a faint pop, Bakura resumed control of the body; even if it was just to try and get as far away from the screaming as possible. "Dammit!"

AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE–

Which brought him to the next thing he could threaten his hikari with.

And the next.

And the next.


Bakura had tried everything. He'd tried everything, freaking everything, all six hundred and twenty three of the things FanfictionDotNet had suggested, even the solution that involved six ballpoint pens, a packet of rice, and a crocodile, and none of them had worked in the slightest. And still Ryou screamed in his head, like a mosquito whining constantly, he just wouldn't freaking well shut up! The spirit banged his head several more times against the coffee table, on the verge of screaming himself–

No. No. He was NOT going to let a freaking eight-year-old defeat him. One more time, he'd try one more time, and then if that didn't work, he was going to break into Kaiba Corp and jump off the top of the building, just so he could have the satisfaction of his blood staining the marble steps. Bonus points if he landed on Kaiba's limo, with double that if he landed on the bonnet. Even more if Kaiba was driving, he decided.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE–

The whining rose in pitch again, bringing Bakura's attention to the task at hand. These fanfiction suggestions were making things worse, he decided. Thus, if he tried the opposite…

Well, it surely couldn't hurt any more than impacting at the bottom of a sixteen – storey building.

Or, come to think of it, having to watch that stupid film.


The door of Ryou's soul room opened, and the shorter teen braced himself for the force of Yami Bakura slamming him into the wall, squeezing his eyes tight shut–

But it never came.

One brown eye opened. "Uh?"

He was there, lazing against the doorway. "Ryou."

"Um– ah, yes?"

"Would you…" a slight grinding of teeth "…please keep it down?"

Silence. Blessed, beautiful, amazing silence, surrounding Bakura and–

"You asked."

A slight head toss; an annoyed shuffling of feet. "Yes."

"And you said please."

Bakura would have thought that Ryou had gotten the message by now, as opposed to senselessly repeating everything, but he dismissed this as one of his human's worse points. "Yes."

"…No whipping?"

"Well–"

"Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaa–"

"Okay, okay, no whipping."

"Ohmygoshyoureallychanged!" With that, Ryou hurled himself forwards, knocking a very surprised spirit over. "Iknewyoucoulddoitlet'sgobefriendswithYugiand–"

And so, as Bakura finally prepared his semi raw celebratory steak, he had to put up the constant gushing and babbling of his host. Which was not only annoying, but now there were some parts of it that just made him want to gag – for instance, he didn't need the new nickname of "Backy–whacky". No amount of growling or similar not–so–subtle hints that the host was being really, really annoying could make Ryou stop, no amount of yelling could temper his new cheerful mood – the only positive thing about this recent development was that if Bakura did finally snap, he'd at least be going on a psychotic rampage and not going down the saintly road.

Looking back, the screaming, however torturous, was probably the better option. After all, the embarrassment factor of this one alone almost made him want to go back and watch that stupid movie, since it would have at least shut Ryou up.

Emphasis on the almost part.


Notes:

1. "The Secret Life of Us" was a very popular Aussie drama series, airing 2001 to 2005 – it had a cult following in the UK, too.

2. Actual Urban Dictionary entry. If you don't believe me, type 'asdfghjkl' into your computer and scroll past the videos.

Random Bakura Fact:

According to one wonderful Urban Dictionary entry, Bakura is apparently this:

'Planet on the edge of Old/New Republic/Empire space, on the far edge of the Outer Rim (Star Wars expanded universe). First planet targeted by the Ssi-Ruuk aliens for colonisation and entechment. Ruled by Imperial Governor Nereus and later by Gaeriel Captison. Saved by a coalition of imperial and rebel forces.

The planet is a major manufacturer of repulsorlifts. Droids are almost unknown, and the local religion, the Balance, is hostile to Jedi.

Ruled officially by a planetary senate but in fact by the governor during the imperial period. Planetary defenses are run by Petr Thanas, who was sent there as a punishment for refusing to massacre insurgents at a slave mine. After the fall of the governor, it is ruled by the senate and is affiliated to the New Republic.

Featured in the book "The Truce at Bakura" by Kathy Tyers.'

Urge to write crackfic about that... rising...