Shadows to shadows

As silently as the shadows that covered him, a young boy slipped into the small room. Pausing for a second to listen for footsteps, the daring young thief smirked at the silence.

It was his first time raiding from the palace.

It had always been his goal to raid from the palace, although he had hoped it would be under less… extenuating circumstances, not to mention a loftier prize. How he'd love to be able to steal something they treasured, to prove he was here, that the legacy of…

Well, that didn't matter. Today, he was here only for food, nothing more. Maybe someday he could steal something greater, but for now, his only goal was filling his stomach.

Indigo eyes trained to see in the darkness scanned the nearly pitch black storeroom for something light enough to carry away yet still satisfy his hunger.

The boy spotted a forgotten loaf of bread in a corner, and his mouth turned to a soft smile as he chose his prize. He stepped softly forwards, soft shoes noiseless on the stone floor, and his fingers flitted out and closed around the bread. Tugging it off the shelf and close to his chest, he pulled his navy cloak around to hide it from view.

The seven-year-old peeked his head out of the door, scanning the area for other humans. Confident that no one was there, he slunk into the torch-lit hall, trying to keep to the shadows as much as possible. He was confident he could make it out of here safely, but that was no reason to be under-cautious…

The sound of footsteps not his own hit his ears, and the boy froze in his path. A second later he wished he had ran instead, as light flooded around him from behind and a commanding voice asked, "Who goes there?"

Gritting his teeth, the thief spun around slowly to face the speaker. It was one of the palace guards, carrying a spear in one hand and a torch in the other. The boy's face took on an annoyed expression. Of course he had gotten caught before, but he had always managed to get away before anyone saw his face- or much of it. Fortunately, the hood of his cloak was up, covering his hair and shading his eyes- two of his most distinctive features.

The guard frowned down at the concealed boy. "What are you doing here?"

In response, the boy spun around and began to race down the hall, away from the guard. The man gave a cry in alarm, and the boy heard a clatter as the spear dropped to the ground. He didn't care much about this, at least, not until five steps later when he felt a hand grasp his wrist and he was flung sharply against the wall. The boy let out a cry as his cloak flew back slightly, revealing the bread clutched tightly in his other hand.

This only made the guard grip his wrist tighter, and the man snarled slightly.

"Thievery, eh?"

The boy tried to twist away from the guard, but the man held him tightly, and the boy's back was still pressed against the wall.

"Stop that!" The man barked, and the child flinched slightly, stilling but giving his wrist one last quick jerk in protest.

Allowing the torch to drop to the cold floor, the guard grabbed the loaf, which the boy was still clinging to as though his life depended on it. Gritting his teeth slightly, the man yanked hard, and the loaf came out of the child's grasp- well, most of it. A small piece, barely more than a mouthful was still clutched in the boy's grip, hidden in his hand but apparent due to the missing tip of the loaf.

The man growled softly. "I can't stand thieving brats like you." He hissed, locking gazes with the startled child. "Unfortunately, I am unable to punish anyone without the approval of the Pharaoh." Now the man grinned. "Luckily for you, he should still be awake. So…" The man stepped away, lifting the torch and placing it in an empty holder on the wall, ignoring the hardened look that had come into the boy's eyes.

"You're going to see the Pharaoh."

Pharaoh Akhenamkhanen sat tall in his throne, but inwardly wished the day could be over already. Even though the sun had already set an hour or two ago, it had been less than thirty minutes since he had stopped having to settle matters between people. And if nothing came up soon, then he'd go off to taking care of things that didn't have to be in person…

"Papa!" A gleeful, high-pitched voice called out.

A smile flickered over the noble man's face as he saw his son running up to him. The boy was no more than five years old, yet immediately anyone could see he was special, if not for the fact that he was the son of the Pharaoh then by his spiky, tri-colored hair.

"Goodnight, papa!" The boy giggled as he wrapped his arms around the man's legs. The Pharaoh's eyes softened and he ruffled the hair of his son.

"Goodnight-" The man started, but was interrupted by the sound of a loud stomping coming this way. Immediately, the Pharaoh raised his head, and the child let go of his father, standing slightly to the side of the throne. Akhenamkhanen sighed inwardly, wondering what was happening now.

He was exceedingly surprised to see one of his guards storming in, holding a loaf of bread in one hand and pulling a small cloaked figure with the other. The Pharaoh blinked, and opened his mouth to ask what the problem was, but the obviously irate guard spoke first.

"I caught this thief stealing," The guard spat, throwing the child towards the Pharaoh.

The boy stumbled forwards, but caught himself before he started to fall. He pulled himself tall, defiance etched on his face. He kept his eyes pinned on the Pharaoh, but he had to spend most of his concentration on quieting his stomach- he wouldn't let them know of his discomfort…

Suddenly he remembered what he held in his hand, and a ghost of a smile flickered on his lips. Slowly and deliberately, without his eyes leaving the Pharaoh, the thief lifted the small bit of bread in his hands to his mouth and took a bite.

"Whelp!" The guard that had brought him here yelled at this clear display of disrespect. He took a step towards the boy, but the Pharaoh raised a hand to stop him. The guard halted, but he continued to glare at the boy.

Akhenamkhanen frowned thoughtfully at the small form in front of him. How on earth had the boy got it into his head it would be a good idea to steal from the palace? Was he just being rebellious? Was he simply hungry? Had his friends or family pressured him into it?

"Boy, what is your name?" The Pharaoh asked quietly and kindly.

For a while all was silent, and Akhenamkhanen thought maybe the boy hadn't heard. Then the aspiring thief turned his head to the side and let out an amused, arrogant scoff.

That was all the guard could take.

"Show the Pharaoh some respect!" the man yelled, grabbing the hood of the boy's cloak and throwing it down the expose the child's head. A collective gasp rang out through the spacious room.

The boy froze immediately, pupils dilating in fear. They had seen it. They had all seen his hair. He lowered his head and grit his teeth, feeling if not seeing the court stare at his long white mane. After a few minutes his head shot up suddenly, his violet eyes narrowed in a piercing glare. He scanned the room slowly and fiercely, like a cornered beast. At his gaze the people shied back slowly, taken aback by the haughty yet desperate scowl. However, when they boy's eyes reached the throne, his gaze softened slightly in surprise, unconsciously relaxing into standing up straighter.

There was a child there… one a few years younger than him, even. The boy was standing a bit behind the throne, supposedly the Pharaoh's son or something. The boy had red eyes, but the thing that caught the young thief's eye was the hair that was even more ridiculous than his own. A small smile twitched onto the thief's face as the other child cocked his head, staring at his with simple curiosity, nothing more.

Then he looked up at the Pharaoh, or more specifically at the certain golden object lying around the man's neck, and he felt his anger flare up again.

"Well… as you seem disinclined to give us your name," The Pharaoh continued softly, trying to tactfully dodge the issue of the boys startling locks, "could you say why you tried to steal from the palace in the first place?"

The aspiring thief just continued to glare at Akhenamkhanen, not that he really expected a different response.

"Why were you willing to take the risk of being caught? You must have some reason for coming here."

"Of course I do." The boy said, speaking for the first time in a low and rough tone. "But I see no reason why I should tell you." Not yet, anyway. Maybe it was a mistake coming here so early…

Akhenamkhanen frowned thoughtfully. "Did someone force you to do this? Did your family put you up to this, perhaps?"

"You…" The boy spoke, shoulders shaking slightly. "How dare you speak about my family, you…" the boy was wise enough to cut himself off here, and settled for giving the Pharaoh one of his most furious glares. But what was he supposed to say? That the Pharaoh was a murderer who deserved to die? He knew he wouldn't get away with saying that, not yet anyway. In an attempt to distract himself from his anger, the boy bit his lip and listened to the quiet chatter in the background.

The thief had heard the various guards' mutterings about him ever since his hair had been revealed, the murmurs only increasing in intensity as time went on. Before he could ignore it, but now his temper was rising as he caught the comments about how he must be cursed or a demon's child.

He had had enough.

Flinging out his arm to point at the assumed Pharaoh's son, the child yelled, "My hair may be strange, but his is much weirder than mine, but you don't think those things about him!"

There was an abrupt silence; for some reason, the guards did not think the child could hear them— or that he wouldn't do anything about it.

One of the guards stammered a bit. "B-but he is the son of the Pharaoh! That just shows that he is chosen of the gods, not some cursed—"

"Oh, so his strange hair makes him a god, but mine makes me a demon?"

At the sometimes annoyed, sometimes abashed looks the guards were giving the child, Akhenamkhanen smiled slightly. Well, this young thief certainly had an interesting way of looking at things, if nothing else.

"I will pardon the child's attempted theft and he is free to leave the palace now."

Both the boy and the guard who dragged him here whirled towards the Pharaoh in surprise.

The boy's eyes narrowed softly in disbelief. No, it wasn't supposed to end like this! It couldn't end this casually and easily! The Pharaoh had to hate him! If not, why did he destroy his life like he had? If not… if not, he had no real reason to exist… That man could not brush him off like that!

"P-pharaoh, you can't be serious!" the guard called out desperately. "He's a thief, and he must be punished! He—"

"He's just a child." Akhenamkhanen cut in calmly. "And children make mistakes. Please escort him out of the palace."

"…Yes, Pharaoh." The guard said stiffly, then turned to exit with the boy thief in tow.

Both the child and the guard walked towards the exit of the palace. Although both were annoyed, the guard was considerably more on edge, gripping his reclaimed spear tightly. The boy, on the other hand, put on a façade of peacefulness, holding his arms behind his head as he walked and smirked. He was very dissatisfied with how things had turned out, and decided to play with the guard's blatant hatred of him.

But he couldn't just let himself be dragged out in disgrace like this. His eyes flicked around the dark hallways, searching for something he could pilfer to spite the Pharaoh.

The boy smirked slightly as he saw an ornate golden ring sitting on a small table a short ways away. Silly pharaoh. He should know better than to leave jewelry out in the open like this…

Slipping softly to one side, the boy crept towards to small article. He would not leave the palace with nothing to show for it, especially after the Pharaoh just… just… dismissed him like that! He would become a threat to him, maybe not today, but someday he would. Hopefully the Pharaoh would notice this small theft and realize he should not have waved him off as harmless…

Just as his small fingers were about to grasp the ring, a larger hand slapped his away. The thief turned, annoyed… to recoil at the guard who had been taking him out, looking incensed at the boy.

"Ah…"

"I've had just about enough of you." The guard hissed, and in one stroke raised his hand, slapping the boy across the cheek with all of his strength.

With a short cry, the child collapsed to the floor, continuing to roll slightly, pulling his cloak from his body. He raised his head slowly, but the guard, it seemed, had not exhausted his anger.

With a savage cry, the guard whipped his spear down. It dragged itself horizontally over the boy's right cheek, and the child let out a piercing shriek in pain. The guard glared darkly at the cowering figure, but the boy had clapped a hand over the new wound, and slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. His head still bowed, he dragged his hand from the bleeding wound.

The white-haired boy looked up at the guard, fresh blood flowing down his cheek and eyes empty.

"Khh…" The guard took a step away from the young thief in revulsion and slight fear.

The only emotion the boy displayed was a slightly dazed expression, as he stood up, grabbing his cloak and turning to leave. He walked steadily out of the palace, not running, not hesitating, simply continuing on without looking back.

The guard shuddered slightly as the boy's form melded with the shadows. Good, he's gone…

"What was that noise?" The guard turned around to see one of his companions running up a side hall towards him.

"W-what noise?" The first guard asked, slightly nervous. If the Pharaoh found out…

"A short while ago, I thought I heard a scream."

"O-oh, that… that was nothing. Must have just been some animal…"

"Must have been some animal…" The boy heard faintly from behind, and he winced inwardly, although he did not falter or lose his calm mask. He knew the man had been talking about him.

A few steps later, he was out of the palace, exposed to the night air. Although he stopped walking, the boy only stared out at the night sky, eyes unfocused and unseeing.

Suddenly, an image of the Puzzle that hung around the Pharaoh's neck flashed through his mind, and he broke down. The cloak slipped through limp fingers, and the child sagged down to his knees, the events of this night and one several years before all begging for his attention. His eyes narrowed and his fist clenched and thudded softly against one of the pillars.

The memories of that night won out, and against his will the boy remembered what had been haunting him every day since then. All was darkness and fire and blood and haze, screams surrounding him, all unique, all terrified, all cut short. He was trapped by his fear, watching them burn and melt and change and scream, scream, scream endlessly…

He clutched at his head and shut his eyes tightly in a futile attempt to block out the visions before him. He knew nothing could make these memories go away, and all he had once loved were now nothing but mere trinkets laid around the necks of their murderers.

He opened his eyes, and screwed his face up desperately as he had once seen other children do in sadness or pain. He willed tears to come to his eyes, to cry for his parents, his siblings, and his friends, for all those who had died that horrible day…

But he couldn't. He couldn't cry for them, no matter how hard he tried.

He hadn't cried for them when they were killed.

And ever since that day, he was left with the inability to cry.

Feeling hollow, the boy raised himself slowly, still leaning on the pillar even though he no longer needed it to support his weight. He stared, eyes unseeing, over the scenery before him.

He bent down to reclaim his cloak, still looking ahead. Finally, he stood tall, and turned halfway around to glare at the palace before walking off.

I'll be back, The thief swore to himself, I'll be back someday, and I swear I'll kill you, Pharaoh.

With that last thought, the boy walked forwards, melding back into the shadows.

Author's notes: Well, hope you liked my first Theif Bakura-centric fic! ^^