It has been a while since I posted a story. This one isn't finished even though I have marked it as complete. I most likely will add more chapters, and have written a few already (including an ending), but I don't know whether I'll like it enough to post it up on the website.
Bakura, a young thief with neither kin nor home, wandered alone along the Mediterranean shoreline. On the horizon, the sun began to light up a new day, yet he paid no mind to the golden rays it freely gave. The only reason, for which, he tread on this cold damp sand was to benefit from the tragic dead. That is to say, a storm out at sea-from last night-had been so severe that a nearby ship had the misfortune of not sailing on into the following day. Hence, the broken pieces of dead wood that he now surveyed in the hopes of finding something of value-to him.
The sight of the wreckage caused his thoughts to suddenly wander back in time, from barely a season ago, when his village was attacked one late and dark night. He frowned at not being able, yet wanting nothing more than to not recall that painful memory. He hated what he saw and that he hid in fear until the hunger pains became too unbearable. He stopped and pressed half closed fists over his eyes to try to shut away the terrible thoughts in his mind.
After a moment, he remembered why he was here and lowered his hands back down to his sides. He stood and watched the waves splash over his feet then fall back to the sea, before he continued on. Bakura didn't feel it wrong in his attempt to take from those who had perished, he would take-without hesitation-whatever valuable item that the ocean didn't keep.
With his head low and his eye's downcast, he was so focused on the sand at his feet that he hadn't noticed the line of footprints ahead until he was about to tread on them. Startled, he took a step back. It looked as though someone had stumbled away the water. His eye's followed their trail until he glimpsed whom they belonged too.
A single figure met his gaze, and he felt his heart begin to speed up a bit. He disliked the thought of being seen, especially without his knowledge. It was too late to try to move out of sight, all he could do was simply walk away until he was gone from view. He didn't waste any time and moved forward. In his haste he forgot about the footprints, and when he stepped on them he slowed down in thought. The question came to mind if this person was from the ship that got caught out in the storm. When he turned around to peer at the stranded person, he questioned whether he should make his way over to get a closer look. He knew that one day it may come to him facing and knowing whether Egypt was a safe place for him to live, or not, so why try to hide himself from this one cast away.
With his mind made up he took a deep breath and made his way, with heavy feet, towards this unknown person.
When his view became clearer, he stopped and stared with squinted disbelieving eye's. He had found a boy, although, a somewhat older one. What's more, he had white skin and even whiter hair, which in color, matched his own. He moved forward once more, all doubt about whether to not continue now gone.
"Who are you?" He said once he was close enough for being heard.
At his words the boy lifted his head, his eyes opening to show a rich dark brown in them that stood out against his clear pale complexion. There was only a brief glance in his direction before he closed his eyes and lowered his head. Confused by this reaction, he moved forward to seat himself beside the strange boy. He pondered if the reason for his disinterest was that the sun was too bright for his eyes, or if he was just tired and was trying to fall asleep.
He watched him in silence for a short time, his attention solely on the same white hair they both shared. The image of an older relative-his grandfather-whom he inherited his white hair came to mind. Bakura recalled how different his Grandfather was in appearance, and how similar he looked to the one beside him. At the thought that maybe this older boy is from the same family, a small smile curved at the corner's of Bakura's lips.