Halloweenfic 2010.
For amusement's sake
It is strange, the way it happened; in the shadow realm where the spirits have their own bodies and the lights are standing by the sidelines along with any others caught in the middle. Yami Bakura is lying unconscious; the end of a shadow game. All Yami Yugi has to do is say the word and it would be over and they would all be able to go home.
But he doesn't.
Lavender eyes stare at him, daring him, and Yami Yugi does not declare his victory and time stands frozen. No one speaks. No one moves. The ones gathered barely dare to breathe. And what they see is strange because no one had expected the darkest of them all to appear. Least of all did they expect him to crouch down, to glare, to dare, to shield... with a white-haired head resting against khaki pants and tanned arms pulling the torso of an unresponsive body into a firm grip; a grip that spoke in volumes. No one had expected the darkest of them all to protect.
Yami Yugi's mouth opens and the glare of those lavender eyes intensify. The former pharaoh does not let out a sound, however. He seems unable to. Unable to produce sounds. Unable to grasp words. Unable to process.
If Yami Bakura were conscious, he would never live it down. If Yami Bakura were conscious, he would tell the other spirit ever so kindly to 'fuck off.' If Yami Bakura were conscious, he would prefer the pharaoh's words of finality over this crushing moment of helplessness. But he isn't. He lies limp and silent, halfway gathered into strong arms.
It is Malik that breaks the horrid stillness: a small gasp, a whimper, a whisper, a word, a name. The angered, lavender eyes snap to the boy and regard for a while before returning their glare towards the duel's winner. The warning that had left his gaze for that short, short moment of distraction returns with full force and double the heat.
Once again, Yami Yugi tries to speak.
He wants to ask the other's intentions. He wants to understand what the other is trying to accomplish. Why bother? What was the prize? Yet as soon as the winner manages to draw one strangled breath, the glare in those lavender eyes intensify to a level where they might just kill without the aid of shadow magic. And once again no sound is uttered and no word is spoken because the voice has crawled away in fear. For once, the pharaoh does not dare to tempt his fate. Not this time. Not under those eyes.
However, the spell that held them frozen for what may very well have been a whole eternity had been broken with Malik's unintentional reaction and another action takes place that surprises everyone, even the one who commits it. It is Ryo Bakura, taking a step towards the darkest darkness, as well as that of his own. One step and no further. He can not muster more courage than that.
That one movement in a realm that stood still in fear seems as threatening to the darkest of the dark as the danger of Yami Yugi declaring his victory, and suddenly Ryo finds himself pinned down by a stare as vicious as someone so deranged could manage. And at that moment, Ryo is more terrified than he can remember ever being.
But the spell is broken now. The fear may remain. The shock may remain. The silence may remain. But the frozen time has begun to move again.
Lavender eyes lingers on every soul gathered, warning them not to interfere. Warning them not to make a sound. And slowly a lithe and unconscious body is gathered fully into strong arms. A pale face falls lifelessly against a tanned throat. White hair spills out over a black shirt. And with a flutter of his cape, the darkest darkness stands. Yami Bakura, still blissfully unaware of the events unfolding, lies safely gathered in his arms. Lifeless. Protected. Beautiful and delicate like a porcelain doll.
The darkest catches the pharaoh's eyes. He does not speak and there is no need to; the message is clear and Yami Yugi nods slowly. If Yami Yugi speaks, if he declares victory, the other will not hesitate to kill. Starting off with the weakest and taking revenge for an unphantomable reason on each and every one connected to this one shadow duel.
The darkest turns to leave. He turns and walks into the shadows of the realm, carrying his precious porcelain doll with him.
One whisper of a question flutters through the silence, making him pause for the briefest of moments. Uttered by his own dearest light; one whisper of a question that he wonders the answer to. A whisper he considers answering before deciding that not one of those gathered would understand either way. They are not like him and the one he is saving. They are… different. Strange and blind and hypocritical. All the things he and the one he is saving are not. Finding nothing more of interest, he continues his way in silence.
Why?
Because it is within his power to do so. Because this is his world and he is God here. Because he knows the pharaoh would angrily protest. Yet, those are just hypothesises that the ones gathered will make up and whisper to each other during safety of daylight, then mull over when night falls and they have no one to turn to but their own treacherous minds.
He knows the truth and he smiles at the thought of it. Why save a tomb robber that would hate to be saved? Why save one who would spit in his face for the effort?
Because it is far more amusing than to let the theatre play out the way everyone expected it to. And all that the darkness of Malik, the darkest of all three spirits, ever does is, in the end, for the sake of his own amusement.
Happy Halloween.