Author's note: This is written post-canon in some reality of my own creation. I try to follow canon, but sometimes a story needs more room to breath. :)
Bakura stared into the deep brown eyes staring back at him from the mirror. His white hair was tousled as always, his skin as soft and pale as fresh snow. The ring hanging around his neck gleamed faintly in the dim light.
He looked at the clock. The digital numbers flashed 7:02. It was only just past seven, and he was immensely and utterly bored. Anytime he had a moment to himself, he had absolutely no idea what to do with it. His sole purpose in life was gone; Passed on into the next life, a complete failure on Bakura's part. And by some twist of fate, Bakura had been left behind, unsure of what his next move should be. Move? He spoke as if he still had a goal.
Most days he remained cooped up in the Millennium Ring, watching Ryou live out his life. And oh yeah, high school was just so exciting to a 5,000 year old evil spirit who wanted nothing more than to see the death of the Pharaoh and could care less about this cream-puff limey he was trapped in. Then again, Bakura couldn't come up with anything better to do when he was in control.
Bakura gazed out the window at the setting sun. What the bloody hell am I gonna do with myself?
He looked at the clock again. 7:04. He had managed to kill two whole minutes with his musings. He glanced back at his reflection in front of him. It seemed to ask a question: Now what?
Not just a present-time "Now what". Bakura wondered what he was going to do for the remainder of his life, which may or may not end.
Well, Bakura thought, I could mess with my host. Ryou's life was extremely boring. Bakura thought that maybe, just maybe, he could spice up this teenager's life with a little trifling of his own.
It might end up like a bad reality show, Bakura thought, brushing his white hair away from his face, But I suppose a reality show is better than no show at all.
He nodded, his reflection copying him as if agreeing. Bakura turned to check the time: 7:05. Finding nothing better to do, the evil spirit settled into bed. He could begin his "trifling" tomorrow.
Tomorrow, he promised himself, tomorrow will be the day.
"Hey, Joey? Earth to Joey! Hey, are you in there? It's your move."
Joey shook his blonde head. "Sorry Yug." He drew a card and studied his hand, before summoning a monster with a flourish.
"Wow, not a bad move, Joey," Tristan commented.
Ugh, Bakura sulked a few rows ahead. How did they manage to play card games every single day? He swore, sometimes he thought he was reliving the same day over and over, because little Yugi and his friends were that routined. Was this Groundhog Day or something? Did Bakura have to do something specific to make this all stop?
It didn't help that he was seeing all of this through Ryou's eyes. Ryou constantly turned back to watch Yugi and his friends duel. Bakura had no idea what the front of the classroom looked like. He also couldn't figure out how Ryou did so well in school. He was never paying attention during class! The boy was always watching the on-going duel, and there was always an on-going duel. Yes, the group even dueled during class. Bakura was sure the Egyptians didn't even have Shadow Games that frequently and they invented the game! And what the hell was wrong with these teachers? Did they really just not see the card games, or did they turn a blind eye every time?
Bakura mentally shook himself. No need to worry himself with the Pharaoh's friends. Bakura was patiently waiting for a window of opportunity; Story of his life, really.
School finally let out and Ryou strode out of the building, walking down the street for home. Bakura was disappointed in himself-he had failed to stir up one conflict, not a single encounter with a school bully, no embarrassing moments in front of the school sluts. Nothing.
Bakura perked up as Ryou's gaze wandered down to the Millennium Ring, which was glowing slightly as one of it's prongs pointed out a nearby alleyway. The boy hesitantly looked in the indicated direction, obviously pondering whether it was a good idea to follow or not.
That's it, I'm taking over, Bakura decided. With a glow from the ring, Bakura regained control, turning swiftly towards the alleyway the ring indicated. The ring's detected a point of interest. It be best to check it out.
Cautiously creeping down the alley, Bakura followed the ring's lead. This alley wasn't too far from Bakura's house, and Bakura wondered how anything interesting at all could be down here. He soon saw what the ring was leading him to.
In the dim, dingy alleyway, a figure in a purple cloak lurked through the side streets of Domino City. Bakura instantly recognized the clothing; he remembered it vividly from his adventures in the Battle City Tournament.
"A rare hunter, eh?" he spoke aloud, "I wasn't aware there were any left."
The figure spun around, his face unseen under the hood of his cloak. Upon seeing Bakura, he smiled. "Not a rare hunter. The rare hunter." He flung his hood down, revealing his identity.
He shook his light blonde hair out, which stood in stark contrast to his bronze skin. His face could be considered handsome, with deep violet eyes that would send any fan girl screaming. He wore a mischievous grin, like he was up to something.
"Marik."
"Hello Bakura. It's been awhile, old partner."
"You are not my partner," Bakura stated, glaring at the Egyptian who stood before him.
Marik shrugged, exposing his usual outfit beneath the rare hunter cloak. "Geez Bakura. I thought you might be glad to see a friend, you know, considering you have none."
"There are so many things wrong with that statement. First of all, I don't need friends-"
Marik rolled his eyes. "Right."
"And second," Bakura promptly ignored him, "You are NOT my friend."
Marik waved his hand, as if shooing away Bakura's statement. "Technicalities aside, what are you doing around here?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Bakura pointed out, "I live here."
Marik suddenly got uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, I just figured you'd be…"
"Dead? No such luck, I'm afraid."
"You act as if living is a bad thing, Bakura."
Bakura narrowed his eyes. "Well, it is in my case. My only purpose for living is gone, and now I'm trapped in a teenage boy's body where I'm forced to live through high school." Bakura said the words "high school" with such disgust, you'd think he was talking about a prison.
"Oh, that's not so bad," Marik told him.
Bakura glared. "Well, why don't you try it, then?"
"No thanks," Marik replied quickly (a little too quickly, if you asked Bakura) "Anyways," the young Egyptian continued, "How'd you find me?"
Bakura looked down at his ring. "The Millennium Ring lead me to you…"
Marik gazed at the ring, too. "Really…" he said, his violet eyes intense upon the ring. He suddenly snapped out of his haze, "Well…then I guess fate brought us together, huh Bakura?"
Bakura groaned. He was sure there was a better way to entertain himself. Hanging out with Marik was not it.
"Hey, there he is!" Another voice echoed down the alley. Some thugs materialized at the other end of the alley, bearing hand guns and wearing sun glasses. "There's the guy!" One exclaimed, pointing at Marik.
"Whoops. Gotta go Bakura. Maybe we can catch up more later," Marik began slinking away.
"As if I want to," Bakura retorted. He turned his attention to the thugs who approached.
"Where's that man going?" one demanded from Bakura.
Bakura sighed; The only thing to do now was to play along. "What man?" he sneered.
The angry thugs were intent on seeing this interrogation through. "The one you were just talking to! The one in the purple cloak! Where is he going?"
"I haven't the slightest clue what you're talking about."
The thug pointed his gun menacingly. "You know the man! Spill! Now!"
"I'm sorry but I don't know-"
The thug was livid as he grabbed Bakura by his shirt collar. He held the gun point-blank at his pale face. "I'm warning you…"
Bakura's brown eyes remained claim as he glared at the man. This only served to make the man more enraged.
"C'mon, Phil! He's gettin' away! Let's just go after 'em!" another thug said.
"I see him," another thug said in a strangely monotone voice. "This way." The thug walked off without another word.
The others looked at each other, confused to their colleague's strange behavior, but followed anyway. The one holding Bakura gave one last growl before shoving Bakura away and giving chase.
Bakura dusted himself off, smirking at the figure returning to his side. "Still as skilled as ever with the mind control, eh Marik?"
Marik emerged from the shadows, twirling his Millennium Rod around his fingers. "It's kinda my thing."
"Why were they after you anyways?" Bakura asked, though instantly regretting it as the question exited his mouth.
Marik smiled, retrieving a card from the inside of his robe. "I took something from their boss."
A trading card. Of course, thought Bakura. "And I thought I was the thief around here."
"It's not stealing! It doesn't even belong to them in the first place!" he protested. "It belongs to my friend and now I'm returning it to her.
"Her?" Bakura said surprised. "And here I thought you were gay."
"I'm not gay! And we're just friends!"
"Right," Bakura rolled his eyes. "So, I guess we better go return her card, shall we?"
"Yep…wait, you're coming?" Marik gaze Bakura a quizzical look.
Bakura shrugged. "Not like I had anything better to do."
Marik smirked. "This way." As he continued toward their destination, Bakura spotted Marik do a silent fist pump.
He wondered if tagging along was really the best idea.
How do you like it so far? Good? Bad? Let me know. Hopefully it will pick up speed.
I was planning on making this a trilogy, but we'll see how it plays out…