Author's Note: You'll notice that Anzu has a bit more bite in this story. Her character is far more similar to how she's seen in the Japanese anime, so I'm sorry if you've only seen the dub. But I recommend you watch some of the Japanese. There's only a few people who prefer the American once they've seen both.
This chapter has been edited as of 18/12/07. Thank you for taking the time to read this!
-
Yami wanted a damsel.
Or a fair maiden. Or a princess. Or something else equally timid and predictable.
He never thought he'd think as much, but at that point, when he realised that the girl he had kidnapped was just as likely to faint in fear as she was to spontaneously combust - oh, now there was a thought - he was beginning to regret bringing her along.
"And father said that if any more beggars kidnap me, he's not going to fork out any more money. So you can forget about your little ransom cash. You did want money, didn't you? ...It doesn't matter if you're only doing it for fame and attention. It's a common problem for men with erectile dysfunction."
Forget the beginning part. It was now fully-fledged loathing.
Anzu frowned at Yami's silence. "Hey, talk! Why aren't you giving me your life story?"
"...What makes you think I would want to?"
"Most of the people who've kidnapped me can't wait to tell me all the reasons why they're doing it, and all the reasons why they want to get revenge on my father. Don't you want to do the same?"
"Not particularly," Yami muttered dully.
"You're quite odd, aren't you?"
"You're quite experienced at this, aren't you? You certainly sound to have gotten around a bit."
"Don't imply things!" Anzu hit his back. "Well, you don't seem to be too bothered about it - the reason for wanting to kidnap someone. I thought you'd be angry, or moody, or something."
"Stop wriggling. And actually, right now I'm furious." He assured her. "So angry actually, that I'd have cut your throat by now if you weren't of use. You just can't tell that by looking at me."
Yami's face was the picture of composure, except for the impish twinkle in his eyes when he heard Anzu shriek.
"That's it, I want off this horse now!"
"Okay." Yami shrugged and slung an arm round Anzu's waist, dumping her into a patch of heather. Without looking back, he nudged his horse foreward.
"Wait!" Anzu stood up and brushed herself off. "I don't care if you're a psycho out to get revenge with a pickaxe, I need protecting!"
Yami grinned, but turned it into a frown when he turned back to her. "Hurry up, then."
They rode in silence for a while, until Anzu couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Assuming you are wanting revenge on my father, you never said how you were going to get it."
"You never asked."
"Well, I'm asking now. What are you going to do, demand compensation fees?"
"No, try and think of it as compensation by life. An eye for an eye, isn't that what they say?"
"Oh." Anzu fell silent, thinking. "Does that mean you're going to get some evil henchmen to kill him?"
Yami either didn't notice or chose to ignore the hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Actually, it's more rewarding if I do it myself. More vengeful, don't you think? It'd be much more suited to the dramatic monologue afterwards."
Anzu flinched. "You're cruel, did you know that?"
"Surprisingly, I do. You come to realise that after being called heartless, selfish, cold, sadistic, and deluded. Among others."
"Oh, I don't think you're deluded. You seem very intelligent. In a harsh, spiteful way."
"Why thank you. I feel ever so comforted." Yami answered dryly.
"And so you should." Bored of the topic already, Anzu changed the subject. "Are we there yet?"
"No."
"Are we there yet?"
"No."
"Are we there yet?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"No."
"How about now?"
"No."
"Now?"
"Yes."
Anzu opened her mouth to ask if he was lying or not, then closed it. Before them stood a huge, run down Victorian-style mansion. It reminded Anzu largely of the ones she had seen in old vampire movies.
"Is this it?" She asked, dismayed. A long building to the left, probably stables, looked like it had been burned several times.
"Yes, this is my home. Don't let the outside deceive you though. It looks quite nice on the inside...very Florence Nightingale."
"I can imagine." Anzu muttered darkly.
Yami slid off his horse and lifted Anzu down. She stumbled and fell against him. Looking at her in disdain, as if he were holding a rat, he nudged her forward and held her at arm's length.
"You haven't ridden a horse much, have you?"
Anzu shook her head vigorously, her hand over her mouth. "No, only a few times, when I was little."
Yami rolled his eyes and led her to the door. "I'll get you a healing balm once we're inside."
He stood looking puzzled at the large wooden door, scratching his head. Anzu watched him, wondering what he was doing.
He tried out a few words and phrases, getting angrier when each of them didn't work. He finally blasted the door down with a shockwave of purple and black fire.
Looking extremely pleased with himself, Yami led Anzu into the old house. It wasn't as shabby as it looked on the outside; quite the opposite in fact.
Fluffy red carpet, lush velvet curtains, polished oak stairs; all the richness of the place made Anzu wonder if Yami got the money to pay for the stuff in the house the respectable way, or by just stealing it from a rich old lady who was about to shuffle off this mortal coil anyway. Or perhaps he helped in that department.
"Bakura!" Yami yelled and rapped on the banister of the stairs. "Get your ass down here. We need the door fixing again."
A snowy-haired teen trotted down the stairs. "Again?!" He cried, exasperated. "You do that too oft – hell-o." He stopped when he saw Anzu, a chilling grin spreading across his face. "Nice girl you got there. Looks a bit too chewy to make a good stew. Children are much more tender."
He ruffled Yami's hair abesently and got a whack for his efforts. "Might make a good casserole though, if served with a little bit of tomato and leek. I'm sure we have some somewhere..."
Anzu shrieked and slapped him. "Ow!" He cried, rubbing his face. He drew his hand back but stopped. "If you weren't a girl I would have snapped your neck by now."
Yami steered Anzu away from Bakura before she could hit him again. "But, he – he –"
"Never mind about Bakura. He just likes to take advantage of people, that's all."
Anzu frowned. "Are you calling me gullible?" She demanded.
"No, I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing." He led her up the stairs and down a long hallway, stopping outside a fancy oak door engraved with roses.
"Here's your room." Yami opened the door and gently pushed Anzu inside. It was well-furnished, with a fire crackling merrily in the hearth, thick curtains and a glorious bed that seemed to call her name. Moving through to the bathroom, she found a bowl of what looked like petunias sitting placidly in the large and extremely elegant bath. Shrugging, she walked back to Yami.
"This is all mine?" She stared at him. "Aren't you going to put me in a cell or something?"
Yami laughed. "You did say your last kidnappers were beggars. No, you're too important to me to not let you be cared for properly."
"See, you really do like me!"
He raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't count on it. As I said earlier, you're not of much use if you're half-starved and near death."
He walked to the door, remembered something, and stopped. "I suggest you get some rest. And lock your door and windows when you go to sleep."
"Why?" Anzu asked curiously.
"Because there are some people here that might take the opportunity of an easy meal."
"You mean like Bakura?" Anzu rolled her eyes.
"No, I mean cannibalistic undead mortals-turned-zombies."
Anzu's jaw dropped. "This is another one of your twisted jokes, isn't it?"
"Not at all." Yami assured her calmly. "They make good minions, but they aren't exactly the best guests when it comes to dining in."
He grinned wickedly and flicked off the lights as he went out. "See you in the morning."
Anzu let out a small squeak and raced to lock up the room. For added security she shoved a large oak desk against the door and stacked heavy books against the windows.
That done, she collapsed on the bed, too tired to even crawl under the covers.
-
A loud banging against the door and muttered curses roused Anzu from her sleep. Someone was trying to open the door to her bedroom.
Trembling, she grabbed a carved ivory figurine from the mantelpiece and raised it above her head.
The person outside the door grumbled loudly and sent a bolt of magical energy hurtling through the door, smashing it and the attractive desk to pieces.
Anzu let out a battle cry and smashed the figurine over the intruder's head. Yami fell to the ground and struck out with his feet, knocking her to the ground.
He leapt to his feet and dropped into a fighting stance, then eased up when he saw it was Anzu.
"Oh." He paused for a moment, then helped her to her feet and grinned apologetically. "Sorry...quick reflexes. I thought you were attacking me." He blinked. "Which you were."
Anzu glared at him. "I thought you were attacking me!"
Yami shrugged. "I only came to bring you this." He held out a small tub of healing balm. "And Bakura's fixing breakfast."
Anzu took the tub and backed away from him. "I don't care if you had been drinking, or hallucinating, or whatever last night when you were being nice to me, but if you beat me or rape me or hurt me, I'll – I'll –"
"You'll what?" Yami said patiently, crossing his arms.
"I don't know what I'll do, but when my father gets here he's going to take you to court and you'll get put in prison or put to death..."
He looked amused. "I was exiled from heaven. Your laws don't apply to me."
"What? What did you do?"
Yami remained silent for a while, gazing at her intently. "Nothing." He said softly.
"I did absolutely nothing. My family was accused of stealing from your father. But my mother never did anything like that. He set us up, so she was murdered and I was sent here. I wouldn't expect you to remember."
Anzu struggled to remember clearly, and then all at once memories came flooding back to her: a cold, rainy day, father bringing her along to a trial, a woman being lead away to the guillotine, and a small boy.
"That was you, wasn't it?" Anzu whispered. Yami didn't answer at first, lost in something she couldn't see.
"Yami?"
"Hm?" He snapped out of his recollection and turned to her, his face once again unreadable and without emotion.
"That day at the courtroom, that was you there, wasn't it?" Anzu said quietly, avoiding his eyes.
"That doesn't matter anymore." He informed her shortly. He turned to leave. "If you would excuse me, I need to practise."
Yami walked out the door without waiting for an answer, leaving Anzu standing confused and troubled. She sighed and seated herself at the window, drawing her knees up to her chest.
A flicker of moment caught her eye; outside she could see Yami and several of his men in the courtyard, pairing up and standing opposite to one another in a line.
Intrigued, she shuffled closer and peered out the window. A small boy - now where did he come from? - carried staves to each of the men. Yami thanked the child and gave him a gold coin, watching for a moment as he ran away happily.
Anzu heard Yami call out a count of one, two, three, and then he and all of the men took to the air, carrying out mid strikes, mid blocks, low strikes, low blocks, and so on, in a repeated pattern of movements.
It was strange, really. Anzu had never liked to watch soldiers practice their drills, but these men weren't soldiers, exactly.
'Yeah, they're cannibalistic members of the undead.' The little sarcastic voice in her head remarked.
The routine was beautiful, in a way. It consisted of twists, turns, pirouettes, dives, sweeping movements, all performed with the grace only wings could achieve.
Watching them, Anzu fell into a trance-like state. It was almost like a dance, but a deadly one at that. Too many times she heard the cries of men who had smashed their collarbones, or snapped off fingers and other assorted appendages.
But even more disturbing was what happened after the zombies were injured; the healthy got into groups and gorged on the injured, tearing their former comrades to pieces and greedily devouring the broken bones and shredded flesh.
Sickened, Anzu turned away and hid her face, the image of Yami just standing there and letting his men each one another burned into her mind.
'What kind of monster would so something like that? It's disgusting.' At the same time, she thought of the little boy Yami had given money too.
'But then again, he's not a monster. Why can't he just be one type of person, instead of surprising me just when I think I've got him figured out? This is just too confusing.' Her stomach twisted and a tear trailed down her cheek.
'Father, I miss you. Where are you?'