"Landlord"
By: ACE329
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh, masterfully created by Takahasi-sama.
Warning: Shonen-ai is mildly present. Barely there, but still alive and kicking.
Summary: From the moment Bakura was introduced to Ryou, he made the promise to always fulfill his wishes. He once made the promise to allow no harm to befall his host. But what was a promise anyway, especially when keeping it could only cause damage to his ego? One-Shot.
Miscellaneous: Ryou is referred to as "Bakura" by his friends, although he is narrated as "Ryou" while his darker half is narrated as "Bakura." Also, let's assume everyone knows to refer to Yuugi's darker half as "Pharaoh," all right? It doesn't go along with the time frame this takes place, which is at the beginning of Battle City, but let's ignore that detail!
Also:
"Blah blah"= normal speech
"Blah blah"= character speaking in spirit form
Blah blah= thinking
//Blah blah// = flashback
A/N: Ah yes, an attempt at a Ryou/Bakura one-shot. I guess this means I actually listened to the results of my poll. How about a nice pat on the back with a review, yes? :]
I used some lyrics from Paramore as my center of inspiration because it presented one of those rare scenarios that could be seen from either Ryou's or Bakura's perspective. You might not be able to see it now, but by the end, I'm hoping you will.
Landlord
"You blew up the world I built for us
Destroyed our secret universe
Threw out the trust I put in you
Make me feel like I'd been used"
-"Hello Hello," by Paramore
"I don't understand you," Bakura announced loudly, his spirit form materializing next to his host. "The rare times I allow you control, you just stand around. Watching people. That's all you ever do. Why." It wasn't a question, it was a statement that demanded a response.
Ryou couldn't say he was startled by the spirit's unexpected appearance, but he was at least surprised for a moment. He only glanced at the belligerent spirit briefly, before turning his attention back to a volleyball match taking place on the other side of the chain-link fence. His fingers laced through the crossing wires. He sighed. "I don't plan on too much interaction with people, but I can at least watch and pretend."
Bakura cocked his head to the side only slightly, not caring to look too far into that statement. Certainly Ryou wasn't blaming him. "I couldn't stand to be you. Always the spectator. No wonder why even your 'friends' barely know you exist."
"Just another difference to add to our ever-growing list," Ryou murmured softly, absentmindedly. He leaned his cheek against the fence. He kept his eyes glued on the match. Bakura saw a couple of Yuugi's obnoxious friends participating, and apparently kicking some ass. The blond-haired one named Jounouchi whipped his arm in front of him like a lash, spiking the volleyball onto the other side without a single person able to combat it. He practically exploded with triumph, exchanging high-fives with his slightly taller counterpart with the chestnut hair; his name was Honda, Bakura guessed. He didn't really care to know what peoples' names were if they didn't concern him.
Bakura broke out into a cruel grin. "Don't be so dramatic, Landlord, it doesn't seem to me like you're missing out on much. Stick around with those fools"—he gestured in the direction of the volleyball match with a nod—"and I'd wager you'd be in even sadder shape than you are now."
A sound of disgust bubbled in the back of Ryou's throat. He released his grasp on the fence before turning away in one jerky movement. "You don't get it, do you…?" He swept his arm to the ground to retrieve his school bag. He started heading back towards the building, knowing his lunch period was almost over anyway.
Bakura remained unfazed, tossing a hand carelessly on his hip. "So tetchy today."
Suddenly, Ryou stopped in his tracks. Bakura watched in amusement as he stared at his host's back. He could tell Ryou was debating whether to speak.
Apparently, Ryou's more rebellious side won. "I often wonder if Yuugi ever has to contend with this," he said in his quiet, smooth voice. There was no indication of his irritation, but Bakura's trained ear picked up the faintest tremor. "The cynicism, the sheer arrogance of an ancient spirit who believes he can say and do whatever he pleases. To own whatever he pleases." Bakura heard a drawn out exhale, watching as Ryou's shoulders slumped.
"Done with your temper tantrum?" he jeered.
"I wasn't yelling, was I?" To accentuate his point, Ryou spoke in a neutral tone, retaining that same, soft voice that often annoyed Bakura. He even turned slightly to look at his darker half with his calm, coffee-colored eyes.
"Well. You didn't need to," Bakura pointed out, with a brief roll of his eyes. "But for the record, I do own you. You are my Landlord, who provides the body that I need to get my vengeance on that Ra-damned Pharaoh."
Ryou said nothing in response to this.
"But I do this not without paying, remember?" Bakura continued, taking a step toward his host, "I told you to ask for whatever you want, and I'll grant it. Consider it my form of payment."
"Yes, I remember," Ryou said. His dark eyes narrowed slightly. "And you know what I want."
"Freedom," Bakura scoffed. "And you know that's an invalid wish, unfortunately. I can't pay you if you don't allow me the room, Landlord."
Ryou shifted his weight from one foot to the other, perhaps impatient. "Then there is nothing I want from you."
"How about this? In return for your body, I'll make sure you are always safe. No harm will come to you." Bakura was now standing in front of his host, his thumb casually running over a faded scar on Ryou's forearm. "It's tragic I wasn't with you before this happened."
Although Ryou couldn't feel the sprit's touch, he flinched away. His mind briefly flashed back to the time he was jumped by a group of teenage guys, ridiculing him for his long, white hair. Ryou turned his head away. "If you claim to keep me safe, then that's your prerogative. I doubt you're any good at fulfilling your promises, though."
Bakura's eyes flashed dangerously. "If I say I'll do it, I will."
Ryou opened his mouth to reply, then shut it when he saw Yuugi approach him.
"Bakura!" he called, waving vigorously, "I saw you watching the game—why don't you come over and play with us?" Yuugi was now standing before Ryou, adjusting the strap on his book bag.
Ryou's neutral face melted away into something warmer. He smiled. "Yuugi," he acknowledged, and Bakura cringed at the way Ryou said it, "I'd love to, but I'm afraid our lunch period is almost over anyway." As if on cue, the bell shrilly rang throughout the air, zapping nearby people into action as they started heading towards their next class.
"Oh, I guess it is," Yuugi said a little sheepishly. He raised his eyebrows hopefully. "Maybe next time?"
Ryou's quiet smile was still lighting up his face. It made him seem more human instead of stone. "Yes, maybe. I'd like that." Bakura glared as he saw a flush of pleasure warm Ryou's cheeks. Damn that Pharaoh's vessel.
"So are you walking to class right now? We can go together," Yuugi suggested. His eyes were the color of the sky just as the sun drops below the horizon; a vibrant, glowing purple. Bakura hated those eyes, and the way they watched his host with such caring attentiveness.
"I'd love to, but I need to go to my locker first," Ryou said. He looked sincerely disappointed. His locker was in the opposite direction of the classroom and knew he'd be running late. He didn't want to make Yuugi so as well.
But the bright-eyed boy just smiled kindly. "Well then I guess I'll see you in class, Bakura." Ryou just nodded as he watched Yuugi retreat back into the school building.
Bakura immediately took the chance to appear next to Ryou once more. "You care for him more than you should," he stated bluntly. He intended his voice to come across as mocking, but instead his words were tainted with an unnecessary hostility, indicative of his….his what? Jealousy? Of course not.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ryou answered coolly, finally entering the school's back doors. "But I can't see how it matters."
"It matters to me because you are my Landlord," Bakura hissed, leaning forward to be more convincing, "You are not allowed to get close to the vessel of the Pharaoh."
"And so what if I do?" Ryou finally snapped, his voice no longer a seamless string of sensibility, "There are people that exist in my world other than you."
The way he said "you" was filled with such contempt, such vile loathing—it came as a slap in the face.
Ryou didn't bother to say anything more to Bakura after that, making his way across the school in brooding silence. The spirit could tell Ryou had no intention of speaking to him any further, suddenly aware that Ryou closed off his thoughts to his darker half. For the moment, their mind link was temporarily severed.
For whatever reason, Ryou was in a relatively foul mood. It was uncharacteristic of him. Despite his calm façade, Bakura could sense the utter bitterness radiating off his host. The negative energy was surprisingly strong. Was he rubbing off on Ryou?
Or, it could simply be his pure hatred for me.
Bakura wanted to acknowledge this with his usual unflagging triumph, to claim that the blatant hatred Ryou might have felt for him didn't faze him in the slightest. He wanted to regard the hostility Ryou threw at him as a victory. He absolutely did not want to believe it bothered him.
But it did.
Bakura wasn't sure what would prove to be more lethal—his own blind hatred for the Pharaoh (an emotion too strong may interfere with logical conspiring), or this foreign emotion of envy rooting deep within the core of his chest. The mere notion of someone stealing even a second of Ryou's attention away from the spirit made his whole being ache with a passionate knot of unfamiliar emotions. The way Yuugi's eyes caressed the sides of Ryou's face, examining every detail, every curve and ridge—as if Bakura wouldn't notice. It made his blood—no, Ryou's and his own, their blood—boil in irrational rage. Ryou belonged to him, and him alone.
He knew it wasn't normal.
"Landlord," Bakura later whispered in Ryou's ear, his syllables pouring out as a sigh. He watched Ryou flinch, now seated in his geometry class, but made no motion to respond. He continued to toy with the pen in his hand, twirling it slowly in his slender fingers while the teacher was giving out announcements before her lecture began.
Ryou's attention was diverted when he felt a soft poke from behind.
"Bakura." It was Yuugi. Why can't he leave my host alone? Bakura seethed. What makes him think that he has the right to even talk to him?
"Yes?" Ryou whispered back. His eyes momentarily flicked to the teacher, seeing she wasn't looking in his direction. "What is it?"
So he will respond to the Pharaoh's vessel but not me.
Yuugi was seated behind Ryou, leaning in a little closer so he could lower his voice. "Jounouchi, Honda, Anzu, and I are all going to BurgerWorld after school. Wanna come?"
Ryou didn't have to consider his answer for long. "Yes," he nodded, that same warm smile lightening his features again. "That would be great."
Yuugi beamed as sunlight seemed to nearly radiate underneath his skin. Bakura hated that childlike joy, his genuine smiles, everything about him. Why did he have to be so happy when in Ryou's presence?
"Let's talk about it after class," Yuugi whispered, barely able to keep his enthused voice out of the teacher's earshot. He then leaned back in his seat, trying to settle into focusing on the center of the classroom.
Ryou stopped twirling his pen for only a moment, a thought obviously crossing his mind. His smile lingered for a little longer before he began copying down what was written on the chalkboard.
Bakura watched his host briefly before turning his head away. Ryou's blatant disregard for the spirit was making him feel something, although he wasn't sure what.
But, as he decided earlier, it wasn't normal. He shouldn't have been feeling anything. He should be feeling indifferent, not caring how his host regarded him. Otherwise, it could interfere with his plans to seize control of the Sennen items. He couldn't let that happen.
I will cleanse myself of any feeling I have for my host, Bakura resolved with the jagged knife of disgust twisting in his stomach, His existence should be nothing more to me than his sole purpose of harboring my own soul. He is my Landlord, and I am leasing his space.
Bakura finally retreated back into the crevices of Ryou's mind, allowing the familiar sensation of loathing embrace him. He let the blackness of hatred stain into his skin, soaking in it, relishing in the cold way it chased out all feeling akin to humanity.
When the time came, he would make Ryou regret not devoting himself entirely to the spirit of the ring.
Considering this a soon-to-be reality, Bakura smiled darkly, reminding himself why vengeance comprised of such a large part of him: it always made him feel so good, wrapping him up in a strong iron blanket of egocentrism that ensured absolutely no one could get in.
Not even Ryou.
Yuugi was with his host again.
Bakura enjoyed the sickly-sweet taste of abhorrence filling his mouth, his nostrils, his very being, but that wasn't to say he enjoyed the fact who his host was talking to. He remained contained and silent inside the ring, though, robbed of any intention to make an issue out of it.
Of course, he could still hear the Ra-damned conversation.
"Bakura," Yuugi's soft voice came out as smooth and gentle as silk. "If you could get rid of the Sennen ring, would you?" It was an innocent question, although Bakura perceived it as manipulative. That sly bastard. Trying to figure out who Ryou valued more—the wretched, damned-to-hell Tomb Thief, or pure-of-heart little Yuugi—but shaped it as a "what if" question. Bakura couldn't see Yuugi's face, but he could clearly envision those gemstone-mirror eyes, shining with temptation and reflecting the truth.
Ryou didn't answer right away.
The silence peaked Bakura's attention, as he strained to hear Ryou's voice. Maybe his host was nodding his head, or was simply caught off-guard.
He felt Ryou absentmindedly run his gentle fingers over the metal of the ring, his skin grazing the cold, solid metal, tracing the intricate details with uncanny precision. It was a habit he did frequently, especially when in deep thought.
"Bakura…?" Yuugi probed.
"…Yes," Ryou finally said.
That was all the evidence Bakura needed to hear.
Ryou was in his soul room.
It wasn't anything unusual, really, considering that as of late he had been forced in there for ungodly long periods of time. The spirit of the ring was relentless about it, giving the boy no warning as to when he would be crammed in there. Ryou's mind reeled back to a few months ago—so much could happen in a month, a week, a day— when Bakura would actually give him at least some idea what was going on.
"Landlord, we will have to hang low for a little bit," he might say. There was always that "we" though, that indication of both Ryou and Bakura joining together in the act. Co-conspirators. Of course, Ryou hated the very idea of it, yet there was a sort of (sick?) pleasure he derived from being a part of the spirit's plans. But this was something he would never admit.
Things were different now.
Bakura always kept Ryou in the dark, leaving him to gather whatever details he could to figure out what his darker half was up to. Ever since Kaiba decided to host a dueling tournament, Bakura had been dominating control of Ryou's body for the majority of the time. And the spirit of the ring no longer bothered to speak to him. The only exception was when he wanted something, which was rare. He just needs me to keep my mouth shut and relinquish total control of my body, Ryou thought bitterly.
But Ryou knew something serious was going on. At least in his body. He was reluctant to admit it at first, but there was this foreign presence that seemed to lurk within him. He couldn't really describe the sensation adequately, but he felt violated. Something didn't belong. Like a slap of icy air in an otherwise balmy climate.
He promised he would never let anything happen to me. Ryou clung onto this thought with a hint of desperation. Maybe he was imagining things. He wasn't sure what he would do if there actually was another spirit inside of him. If there was, wouldn't Bakura do something about it?
Ryou shuddered, feeling utterly vulnerable. How would he even go about finding out for sure why he felt such an overwhelming shock of violation coursing through his veins?
Hesitantly, Ryou trailed over to the door of his soul room and opened it. He rarely had a reason to go outside its perimeters, yet he could no longer stand the feeling of some unknown presence tiptoeing around the corners of his mind.
"Bakura…?" Ryou quietly called out, taking a careful step out of his room. His head turned both ways, seeing the limitless darkness stretch down each end of the hallway, listening to the way his voice bounced off unseen walls. He bit his lip, taking a step closer to his dark's soul room. It loomed over him as an unspoken threat. "Bakura?" he said again, his voice reduced now to a feeble moan. He pressed his ear gently against the door, listening for any activity.
There were voices from inside the room. Two of them. Ryou's eyes widened in horror. One was certainly Bakura's, that smooth, arrogant drawl of his slicing through the air like a knife, but the other was foreign. Unrecognizable.
"…If you think…then we have…do it." Ryou frowned, barely able to pull out bits of his darker half's sentence. It was the important parts Ryou couldn't hear.
"Shoot," he whispered in frustration.
Saying even that nearly inaudible word was a mistake. Like a leaf falling delicately to the ground, somehow the two spirits inside Bakura's soul room were suddenly suspicious of the whisper of a sound. They fell into a calculating silence.
Ryou's heart was clutched by the cruel hand of terror. He took a shaky step backwards, wondering if the two spirits would actually open the door. Ryou shook his head, despite the thin trail of sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. And so what if Bakura discovered his host was trying to listen in? Bakura wouldn't hurt him, right? He made that promise to ensure that no harm would come to him, certainly nothing would happen…
The door did open.
It swung out with such surprising force that the very hinges squealed from the thrust of pressure. Ryou scrambled back a few extra paces, his heart stomping in his fragile chest. He reluctantly looked toward the two figures that stood threateningly in the door frame.
The stranger's eyes—He is a foreigner! He does not belong in this body!—glittered with maniac thrill. An unusual violet shade, like Yuugi's, only dipped in corruption.
"Well. Look at that," the stranger murmured, staring at Ryou with unnerving intensity. He could barely keep the excitement out of his voice. "And I was worried I would never get to meet you."
Ryou couldn't help but stare at the sun-kissed flesh of this stranger, the creamy bronze contrasting profoundly with his own pale skin and his darker half's.
"B-Bakura—" Ryou started, but was immediately cut off.
"Hasn't anyone ever taught you that eavesdropping isn't very polite?" Bakura sneered. His eyes were cold, unfeeling for the wide mocha eyes that pleaded with him.
Ryou flinched. "I didn't mean to. I wanted to investigate the extra presence I felt in my body." He hated the small waver present in his quiet voice, wanting to at least put up the façade he was fearless; justified in his actions.
"It looks like your vessel isn't as oblivious as you suggested," the stranger said with lifted eyebrows. "I don't know if that's to our advantage or otherwise." It was then that Ryou noticed a golden rod tucked away in one of the stranger's belt loops. Undoubtedly, it was a Sennen item. Anxiety ate away at his insides, stronger than before.
The stranger smiled, almost in a mocking way. "My name's Malik. You are to refer to me as 'Namu' though, when we put on a little show for your friends."
Namu? Why would he insist on being called something other than his real name? "What are you doing that involves my friends?" Ryou asked instead. He carefully folded his arms in front of his chest, guardedly. Then a thought struck him: the use of "we." He would be involved in some way.
A shudder coursed through his body. He forced himself to meet Malik's unnerving eyes. "When you say 'we'…?"
"Yes, I am referring to myself, your darker half, and you."
And once upon a time, I used to like the notion of being a part of Bakura's plans…
"What do you want me to do?" Ryou quietly asked, fear sloshing inside. "I mean, I don't—"
"Landlord, stop asking so many questions," Bakura suddenly snapped, flicking his head at him impatiently. "Malik and I have bigger issues to contend with other than your feeble confusion."
"No, I think he ought to know this part," Malik insisted, much to Ryou's surprise. "I mean, this is his body…"
It didn't take long for Ryou to connect the dots. "What are you…what are you going to do with my body?"
Bakura stared down at his host with unreadable eyes. "Just a simple cut in your arm. Enough to guarantee you a trip to the hospital, though."
Ryou's jaw slackened. "B-But…" You promised you would never hurt me. You did, you promised.
Bakura glared at his host challengingly. "Is there a problem?"
Ryou was overcome with bitterness. As if that matters anymore. No, as if it ever mattered.
He swallowed back the lump in his throat. "You told me—"
"I did," Bakura agreed, ensuring Ryou would never get the chance to finish his sentence. His eyes suddenly glittered violently. "But you blew me off." A flash of memory briefly dominated Bakura's thoughts. //"If you claim to keep me safe, then that's your prerogative. I doubt you're any good at fulfilling your promises, though."//
Malik's eyes flitted from both Ryou and Bakura. There was so much tension, so many unspoken thoughts, Malik could nearly see the static buzzing in the air.
"I'm going to give you some advice," he told Ryou finally. His fingers brushed over the rod hooked at his side. "It's nothing but foolish to put your faith in whatever spirit dwells in these Sennen items. You're putting your trust in the hands of the devil."
A frown etched across Bakura's face, but didn't say anything.
Malik took a step closer to Ryou, his face no longer twisted in amusement. "If you expect only pain and betrayal from these items, from spirits like him"—he gestured over to Bakura with a hasty flick of a hand—"then you might walk away from this with as little damage as possible."
Ryou blinked back his shock. "But aren't you…?"
"A spirit of a Sennen item?" Malik finished for the pale boy. "Absolutely not. So remember my advice, from light to light, about the curse these items bring. Isn't that right, Bakura?"
Bakura folded his arms in front of him, the muscles in his biceps tense. For a ghost of a second, he looked pensive.
"Of course," Bakura said, turning away. "I wouldn't expect my Landlord to understand, though—he is far too stupid to listen." He released a quiet, cruel snicker. "It's like he expects me to see him as more than a shell of a body. He doesn't comprehend that we're brought together only through necessity."
For some odd reason, that hurt Ryou more than he admitted it should have. He had this inexplicable urge to reach out to his darker half, just to touch his identical alabaster flesh and beg him to take back those words. Erase them until they're nonexistent.
And why was it, whenever Ryou was suffering from the height of Bakura's cruelty, that he wanted nothing more than his affection? In any other instance, he could not have cared less. It was a fatal flaw that drove his mind in maddening circles.
Malik was back to his sinister amused self, turning his attention to Bakura. "So, are we going to wait around all day, or will you be inflicting the injury anytime soon? Your blackened soul is too dismal even for me." He broke out into a fit of chuckles, silencing only when Bakura lanced him with furious eyes.
"Yes," he hissed. "Let's do this now."
Ryou searched for any trace of hesitation on his darker half's face.
There was none.
Back in the physical world, Malik temporarily left to retrieve his motorcycle. The moment Bakura made the potentially fatal injury, he would have to ensure they would be running into Yuugi's friends soon after. "After all, we can't let the vessel bleed to death," Malik had sneered to an amused Bakura, who mirrored similar sentiments.
That left Bakura alone in an isolated part of Domino City, easily hidden amongst the shadows. He was admiring the blade he had in the palm of his hand, his fingers thoughtfully running over the smooth, cold edges. The injury would be accomplished without difficulty.
Leaning against a rough stone wall, he held the blade up to the sunlight, which barely trickled through in such a dark alley. It was still there though, a weak stream hitting the metal of the blade and then breaking off into shattered fragments of light. His gaze slowly followed one of the streams of light, which spread out to bathe a transparent figure in its glow.
Bakura's eyes met up with Ryou's. For a second, he looked surprised Ryou was there, actually watching him. He rarely had the will to materialize when Bakura was in control.
Ryou was about to give his final plea.
"I want to know why you're letting this happen to me," Ryou said. He was not referring to the incision about to be inflicted on him.
Tell me why you hate me now—tell me why you don't talk to me anymore, even give me a hint that you care about something more than just my body—!
"This is how it must be from now on," Bakura coldly whispered back instead.
Ryou quickly changed tactics. "Did you really mean what you said to Malik earlier?" he demanded, his voice sharp and aching, "That we are only brought together through necessity?"
Bakura remained unfazed. "You were given the Sennen ring. The ring chose you as my official host. Figure it out."
Ryou felt desperation claw down his body as he watched Bakura bring the tip of the knife to his arm. "I'm sorry for whatever I did," he blurted. Tears began to muddle his vision—he furiously wiped them away with the back of his hand.
Bakura quietly scoffed. "Spare me of your meaningless apologies. You're nothing but a vessel to me. You are my Landlord, and I am merely renting out space."
You are my Landlord. How different of a connotation those words were months ago, when Bakura demanded ownership over Ryou. It was a possessive ownership because he felt something more than hate. This very day, the same words were thrust at him like a cruel change in fortune, indicative of the nonexistent feelings Bakura held toward his host. The blank slate of indifference.
Internal chaos thrashed about Ryou's mind, desperation hitching. "Please just tell me why."
"You don't deserve an answer, Landlord." Bakura briefly debated whether to continue his thought. He lightly poked the blade into his skin, testing its sharpness. "You never gave me one when you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me."
Ryou's mind reeled back to one particular moment. He remembered Yuugi's voice, as resonant and light as wind chimes, // "If you could get rid of the Sennen ring, would you?"// and then his own, filled with regret even as the single syllable passed his lips: // "Yes."//.
Didn't Bakura know, didn't he have a clue, that Ryou could not have said no? How could he expect Ryou to admit that he sided with the villain to Yuugi's life?
Oh no, it's not that, his voice of reason chimed, You were afraid to admit you sincerely wanted the Ring to be with you. That you wanted Bakura to be with you.
"Bakura, what you said isn't true," Ryou finally asserted, clenching his fists. "I want you in my life—you saved me from its dull monotony, made me feel something when I thought apathy was the only state of mind in existence." Ryou bit his lip hard, shuddering from the truth that poured from him. "I want you to know I could never hate you. I want you to know that's how I really feel."
Bakura tilted his head slightly to the side, pressing the blade's edge harder into his pale flesh without blinking. He remained shrouded in silence, his face a mask.
Finally, his blank eyes bore into Ryou's. "If you say you can't hate me, then that's your prerogative." The very words Ryou used against Bakura were being flung back to its original owner, like vicious dogs biting their own master.
The blade Bakura held carefully dragged across the skin of his upper bicep, a thin line of rich crimson trailing after it. He didn't even bother to look at his incision, staring at Ryou the whole time.
Ryou began to feel a prickle on his own arm and watched in horror as he saw a familiar ribbon of blood slide across his own skin in conjunction with the damage being done to his physical state. He grasped his arm in shock.
"S-stop!" he gasped. "Bakura, stop, it hurts—!"
Bakura's grip on the knife tightened as he went back and retraced the incision. He slipped the blade back and forth, comparable to a violinist sliding his bow over tightened strings to make them sing. He didn't even flinch. Blood cascaded thickly down the marble-white pillar of Bakura's— of Ryou's— arm, a waterfall of pain, of tears.
"This," Bakura breathed, his eyes heavy-lidded and now vacant, "this Landlord, this is nothing."
~End~
A/N: Like? Dislike? A review would be fabulous :]