Equilibrium

Genres: Supernatural, Drama

Summary: Destroying demons was their life's work, but for a demon too powerful to be killed, the most they could do was bind it to the strongest among them. / AU Tendershipping, samurai!Ryou x demon!Bakura

A/N: This is a multi-chapter, Tendershipping (Ryou x Bakura) story based off a fictional, vaguely feudal AU where Ryou is a samurai and Bakura is a demon. This was originally written as a birthday drabble for Ryou VeRua, but I've expanded it to become the opening chapter. Additionally, I'd like to thank Mahayana for some really helpful conversations that smoothed over a few rough patches in the story's framework.

I hope you enjoy!

Equilibrium

Chapter I: Like Pride

There was only the truth, and the future that could only be preserved through balance and peace, that in turn was gained through fighting and the sword. The three went hand in hand—truth, balance, sword—yet with only two hands to hold them, one was seemingly always abandoned by each who hunted for the combination. Equilibrium was a word he didn't learn until he considered himself old, although he was the youngest in his class by far, and there were many creatures in the world that were practically ageless for the many human lifetimes they had lived.

When Ryou was much younger, he thought the world was an enormous place, waiting for him with extended arms. If those arms were ever to raise against him, he would cut them down with his sword.

They told stories about demons. True, the stories were called lessons, but when Ryou joined a small delegation to one of the nearby towns to exterminate a mass of slug-demons that had been impinging on the season's harvest, he learned firsthand that for each one destroyed, a new demon would take its place the following day.

The world was not built up of pieces to share, it was instead populated by creatures who took what they wanted, disrupted the cycle of so-carefully wrought balance, and it was not only the responsibility of their temple to destroy such creatures, it was their mission.

He had thought the world was enormous, but now he realized that it didn't matter how large it was, because he would never make it farther than the mountains visible from the roof of the tallest building in the temple complex.

From his seat in the corner, Ryou yawned. He covered the motion with the back of one hand, simultaneously scratching an itch on his nose, the remaining hand scribbling away, copying scrolls. By now he could recite them in his sleep—and probably had—but as the older scrolls aged and decayed, new ones had to be prepared to replace them, and as time passed even more history was gathered and added to the collection.

He thought about doodling something in the margins, then repressed the thought just as quickly. Chances were, anyone reading them would invariably think it was an actual part of the original scroll, and that would have defeated the entire purpose of the doodle to begin with. He breathed in the smell of the musty paper, curling the edge back with one finger. Beside him, hunched forward so deeply that his nose nearly brushed the paper, was Junta, lucky enough to have been given one of the more interesting scrolls to copy. Ryou looked at his own again. Supply ledgers. They would surely benefit from some doodles.

He spent his afternoon training, focusing on technique and refining each movement, thinking not of battling demons but sparring against each of his classmates in turn, defeating them all and moving through the ranks of instructors. He fought each invisible opponent until he had exhausted them all, remembering the scrolls and bringing up the long-dead warriors from the scrolls, confronting each until there was no one left he could even think of to fight. He could not fight himself, and could think of no other worthy enough.

His food tasted incredibly bitter to him that day. It bothered him more than it should have, and he washed it all down with a cup of over-brewed tea.

"Isn't it obvious?" Junta said, blinking owlish eyes as he glanced at each of them in turn, past Maki to linger on Ryou. "Satou let slip that we're all to be tested soon, and you wish to do well. You look sick. Do you feel sick, Ryou?"

"No," he said calmly, not wanting their attention and sorry that he'd garnered it in such a way in the first place. "Not at all."

Satisfied, they nodded and no one brought it up again, but inside Ryou's stomach something churned at the knowledge that he did feel sick, whether from exhaustion or dehydration or illness, yet at one word any claims had been dismissed, because they believed that each word that left the mouth of one of their own was the truth, delivered selflessly, and to do anything else would be to challenge the practice of centuries.

Yet Ryou was a fighter, so that was what he did. He stood alongside the other students, training with them, studying with them, and joined them in watching some of the most veteran teachers practice. They made it look so easy, and he considered then if it really was easy for them, and why that level of effortlessness seemed so difficult for him.

His fingers ached from gripping a pen, his knuckles ached from clasping a bokken, and when he stretched both, pressing his fingers in towards his palms to hear the crack, he found it comforting, and wondered why.

No one would have understood why he felt the need to add something irrelevant to the margins of the ledgers, or lie to the others to suit his own needs, or imagine his own proud history laid out in new scrolls in the collection, copied by trainees in centuries to come. He did it because he could.

Ryou had never felt as comfortable as when he held a sword in his hands, fighting alongside the other adepts housed in the training temple, but even a bokken felt at home in his grip as he trained.

His hair lightly stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck from sweat, but he accepted his teacher's approving words with satisfaction. They were taught to abandon such emotions, to focus on only the pure or positive and shun gratification, but a part of Ryou secretly boasted his success and enjoyed his achievements. He was fortunate that his teacher was the temple's master, and whenever the strongest faced a particularly formidable demon he was always the one who led the charge. Ryou himself had handled a few smaller demons entirely on his own, and it was thrilling to realize such power.

He knew why they did what they did, however—he'd heard stories of demons so fierce their very existence threatened the world's safety. Such creatures had to be contained, and their temple stood for nothing less than this.

"Ryou, you are progressing well," his master told him. "Soon you will be among the top of our pupils."

"I am already the strongest," he said, confident his words were true. "I am the strongest of anyone here!"

If his master was taken aback by the claim, he did not show it, limiting his reaction to slightly widened eyes. "Do you truly believe that?"

"I do," he said, nodding furiously.

At his training the following day, his master was late. Ryou waited patiently, beginning to practice his kata while he waited. The movements grew more elaborate, and as he spun he caught sight of his master standing against the wall, his hands clasped behind his back.

Curious, Ryou asked about his overly-solemn mood, and received a cryptic answer in return.

"If there is ever a day to be solemn, it is today, Ryou. Walk with me."

They did, heading to the oldest building in the complex, set away from the central temple. According to legend, this was the original structure, but was deemed unsafe after a battle with a powerful demon nearly a hundred years ago. The students were convinced it was haunted, so no one approached the site out of fear or respect.

Through the trees the old edifice came into view, and Ryou was shocked to see that it seemed in fairly decent condition. There was a distinct slope to the roof, and much of the paint was worn away, but he could sense the latent power in the area. He struggled to find its source—was it the ground? The building itself? Or even something within it?

"Ryou, before we progress any further, I must ask you something." The two stood before the building, and as the wind picked up a few yellowed leaves dropped from the trees around them to land at their feet. "Our organization exists for one purpose. Yet there is a deeper mission, which has traditionally been trusted to our strongest warrior and none other. I would like to offer this to you."

He glanced once at the building, the decision made the instant the sentence had been completed. How could he refuse such a promise? The smallest of doubts lingered in his mind, telling him that if he had not made that boast, perhaps he would not have been chosen for such a task, but he knew he had it within him to handle whatever it was. He was the strongest, after all, so he believed—he could handle anything.

"Yes," he said. "I would be honored."

He led Ryou inside, where they paused in a small antechamber. There were a few lights scattered around the room, yet it still seemed so dark. "Some demons are too powerful for us to kill. The most we can do is seal them, bind them to a single person to be their guardian and to control them and their power. We house the strongest demon of them all—and now, he shall be your responsibility."

Ryou paled, but his master's hand was at his back, pushing him inside the central room. Inside, the demon was chained to a series of posts in the middle of the room, and as he walked inside the light seemed to be sucked from the room. The demon looked so familiar, his white hair and pale skin standing out in the darkness. Ryou knew that demons often impersonated humans, and this one was apparently interested enough to have formed his own likeness.

"My name is Ryou," he said. "Who are you?"

"Bakura." The syllables were elongated in his speech, the word hissed into the silence. Ryou filled it further as he walked, each footstep creaking over the wooden floor.

"I am your new keeper," Ryou said, finding himself completely enthralled and repelled by the demon before him. If he had any sense, he would be worried, knowing what the demon was capable of.

"Are you ready to let me out?" the demon said, his grin seeming to make use of every one of his sharp teeth. "I would like to greet you properly."

"You won't be unchained until the binding ceremony." His master joined them now, lingering at the room's edges, walking between the shadows cast from dim lamps hung from alternating posts set into the walls. Ryou could barely see him, but latched onto his voice as Bakura's own rasped with laughter.

"And then not ever again, if I have anything to say about it," he continued.

"Then it is lucky," Bakura said, relaxing against the dull clanking of chains, "that it is not up to you." His eyes sought Ryou's, managing to make him feel uncomfortable in what was still fundamentally his own home. He struggled to remember all of the different scrolls he had read, searching for any information about a captive demon in the temple's history, and came up with nothing. He was willing to bet it was because there were no records—that most of those fighting or training here had no idea just what was held here barely a mile from their beds.

"Ryou, a word." His master was by his side again, grasping an elbow to lead him back to the antechamber and through to the exterior, standing under the sloped eaves.

"Your word?" Ryou stood as straight as he was able, trying not to think of the demon who copied his own appearance, thinking over and over again, I am already the strongest, I am the strongest of anyone here.

"You accepted this honor before you truly knew what it was," he said. "You will be bound to this demon for conceivably the rest of your life."

"How long?" Quickly, he clarified his question. "How long has this demon been here? How long have members of our brotherhood stood watch over it? Which number am I?"

His master stopped, regarding Ryou with stern, rueful eyes. "The demon used to call his keepers by number. He has your name, now—who knows, he might actually use it. If there are things you want to know, you should ask him. He will be bound to you—his power will be under your control and he must follow your command."

"My command…"

The thought was strangely appealing. He would have power, more power than he'd ever had in his life and more than he knew what to do with.

He barely remembered the ceremony—the second he had felt the power flooding his veins, Bakura's pale, too-familiar hand clutched tightly to his own, bound together with rope instead of the chains that had once kept him secure inside the dilapidated building. Ryou had all but fainted, so dazed and shaky that his vision had swam before his eyes and he could barely recall his actions before he had ended up back in his bed in the dormitory, struggling to keep his breathing even, to keep from seeing a matched set of cruel, dark eyes every time he closed his own.

He could feel it—the power humming along beneath his skin, Bakura's power, all for him, for the strongest. The demon had given him the strangest look throughout it all, this at least he could remember clearly. He had kept eye contact, seeming to tell him without words, how is this for a proper greeting?

He climbed out of bed and found clean clothes to change into, before wandering down to where some of the others were training. He joined them, throwing himself into their fight.

He could follow their movements faster now; he could move faster himself, and defeated them all soundly. It was not even work, anymore, not when the strength of humans could in no way compare to having a demon's power at his disposal. He needed a better opponent, one more suited to his circumstance.

"Ryou!" Junta climbed to his feet, wincing as he tested the elbow he'd landed on. "Where did that come from?"

The words threatened to spill out of his mouth, to tell them it was not that he was strong but that they were weak, but his master had told him that starting tomorrow his time would be spent guarding the demon, and he could not share the news of his recent responsibilities with anyone else, not when Bakura's own anonymity was the first defense against one of the adepts coming across his path.

"I've always had it," he said, watching as Junta shrugged and accepted his words. It was too easy, easier than he thought it would be, to leave them behind in their own world of copying scrolls and training with bokken. If the others were to be tested, it would only be to undertake smaller missions, or assist in training the younger ones. The cycle would perpetuate itself, and only he stood outside it.

"Been holding back on us, then?"

"I try not to."

He knew one person who would never hold back on him—technically not even a person, but something more and something less. Someone he wanted to see, the first chance he got. He had questions he wanted answered, and while Ryou was patient enough to wait he would not wait for long. He glanced at one wrist, at the marks from the rope still lingering on the skin.

He was the strongest, he was the strongest of them all. Now no one could dispute his claim.

That day, his food only tasted sweet.

To be continued…

Notes:

1) The demons and monsters will all be adapted from different duel monsters (the 'slug-demons' are inspired by the card Needle Worm). The 'ceremony' to bind Bakura to Ryou was inspired by the cards Soul Exchange and Enemy Controller.

2) I'm not sure if I'll have any kind of somewhat-regular updating schedule, so throw the story on alert if you liked it!

3) Thanks for taking the time to read! I promise future chapters will be much longer. =) I would appreciate and value your reviews!

~Jess