Disclaimer
This is Yu-Gi-Oh fanfiction, posted on FanFiction (dot) net.

Fanfiction: A story written about a television show, book, comic or movie by people unconnected with the original and without any intention of making a profit. (taken from ralst (dot) com )

This story is rated M because it deals with mature themes and situations. If you are not prepared for a mature story that can involve any number of mature items, then this story is not for you.


Bakura sat on the floor of the plane, looking up at Kaiba. The other man had retreated to his laptop and was currently ignoring him. Unconsciously rubbing his easily bruised flesh, he stood up and sat back next to him. He couldn't help his furtive glances toward the brunette. Bakura felt a strange attraction to the man that owned the Duel Monsters gaming in Japan. He had felt it when he was on the plane to Egypt.

Sighing, Bakura tried to turn his attention away from those hooded blue eyes and stare out the window at the sky outside the plane. He felt restless. He never cared for airplanes that much. On one hand, it was exciting to travel to places unknown, but on the other to be trapped and reliant on a steel tube to get you there was an entirely different feeling. The trapped sensation reminded him of his blackouts when he was possessed by the evil memories of his past life and the dark god Zorc.

The source of his nightmares and deepest fears were those memories that had slowly been returning to him. It was also a source of contention with his family. He would wake up screaming in the middle of the night most occasions. After many frayed nerves and arguments, he gave up trying to sleep at night and instead would do so during the day when no one was around. That helped until he would run himself to exhaustion with the naps.

His grades suffered as a result of the lack of sleep and created another argument point. The constant moving around because of his unknown actions with the miniatures with schoolchildren when he was a teenager and not becoming less of a nuisance as a young man had strained the relationship between son and paternal family. His grandmother and father, especially his father, would express their disappointment in a myriad of ways. He was sure they were displeased with his sudden jaunting off to Egypt the last couple of days. Bakura did not know what he would experience when he came home. Hopefully, it would not be too difficult.

He yearned to talk to Kaiba about his concerns, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to him because he found him intriguing or attractive. There had always been something so fascinating about Kaiba's strength. If he could be strong like Kaiba, then he would not have anything to fear. Then, perhaps, his family would no longer be angry with him as often, and he would be more successful in life. He was studying computer systems and wanted to design the games that he so loved, but some days he wasn't sure if that would be his future. Other days, he thought he had no future.

Bakura sighed at his reflection in the glass of the window. He was barely more than a reflection himself. A faint appearance of white hair on white flesh, pale and colorless except for his walnut brown eyes. In the image of himself, they appeared to be black holes in a porcelain doll's face. He saw his own lips frown, and his eyes shifted to Kaiba's profile behind him. He was a painting of colors and life, opposite of the pale colors of death that he felt himself represented. Dark, blue eyes flashed in annoyance at whatever he was looking at on his laptop, the locks of dark brown hair that just brushed his lashes, and the hard set of his chiseled lips upon the image of warm-colored flesh. Bakura wondered if his skin was always warm and if his blood ran hot beneath the surface. It would be so unlike his cool flesh and colder blood.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Bakura curled his feet underneath his legs and crossed his arms on his chest, tucking his chin. He felt like a small bird trying to escape a predator. His stomach was bothering him as he tried not to think about what would happen when they landed. He knew that he was a blip on Kaiba's map, and that he would probably never see him again. Possibly, he might see his younger brother Mokuba around, but his eyes would probably pass over him. Bakura felt that he was easily forgettable. In a few hours, he would return to the hard eyes of his family and the nervous eyes of his classmates at the university. In a few hours, he would be mostly alone again except for the occasional call from Jonouchi or Yugi.

Closing his eyes, Bakura thought it might be safe to take a nap. The lulling sound of the plane was starting to make him sleepy, and his heavy thoughts were not helping to improve his mood. Exhaustion set into his limbs. Foggy sleep overtook him, and he tried to relax while ignoring the white-hot heat that was the nova of a man behind him. His last thoughts as he fell asleep were that it would be nice if somehow they could continue to be around each other.

A hand was shaking his shoulder. He could hear a voice calling him, but for the first time in a long time, he found himself caught in a pleasant dream and he did not want to leave it.

"Bakura! Wake up, Bakura."

Mumbling, he tossed his arm over his face.

"Seto, he's not waking up," the voice said.

"Then leave him on the plane, he can go to where ever we send it next."

"Wait... wait... I'm waking up," Bakura called out as he sat up in his chair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Kaiba said sardonically.

Bakura grinned sheepishly, "Sorry, I don't get much restful sleep."

"Well, come on. We're back in Tokyo."

Mokuba waved Bakura over to him and led him to where they had stowed their bags for the return trip.

"What are you going to do about your passport?" Mokuba asked him.

"I'll have to go to the agency to check on how I can renew it. Hopefully, its not too late to fix this. I can't really afford to purchase a new one."

Mokuba nodded as he tossed Bakura his red duffel bag. "I guess it is odd. I've never really thought about those things. I'm pretty sure I have one, but to tell you the truth, I don't know. Others have handled those details for so long that I don't think about it anymore."

"It must be nice not to have to worry about the little things," Bakura replied, giving the wild-haired teen a smile.

Laughing, Mokuba agreed. "It is, but it just means I have more things to think about. Like the company and making sure I'm useful to my brother."

Bakura paused as he hefted his tote over his shoulder. "Your brother must work constantly," he commented.

"I'm afraid he is going to die at his desk from overwork. He never stops. Day and night he works," Mokuba said. "He really needs to relax. He doesn't even take vacation during Golden Week."

"Really? But all of Japan is vacationing during Golden Week it seems."

"I know! I beg him to take time off, but usually there is some emergency he have to address. I can't tell you how many times I've caught him asleep in his chair."

Bakura glanced over his shoulder, catching a look of the topic of their conversation. Kaiba was currently on his phone again. His voice was clipped and angry as he was rapidly explaining something to the person on the other end. In his other hand, he held onto his silver briefcase. He seemed so alive, but to hear as Mokuba said, the man only lived to work.

"Do you need a ride to your house?" Mokuba asked Bakura.

"Oh!" Bakura exclaimed. "You don't... I mean... I... I can find my own way home. I don't want to be a further burden upon you and your brother. You have already helped me so much."

Tossing him a grin, Mokuba replied, "Don't worry about it. We can drop you off at your house on the way to ours."

Kaiba's voice cut through their conversation. "Mokuba, we have to go. I need to get back to the office right away."

"Okay, Brother, but we have to drop Bakura off at his house first."

"What? Since when?" Kaiba asked.

Bakura blushed and looked down at his feet. He felt like he was imposing, and the cold fire in Kaiba's eyes had confirmed it. He could feel the annoyance coming off the tall man in waves, and they were directed at him.

"Stop being a jerk. I offered him a ride back to his house. It will not be a big deal. It's evening, the traffic will be light. Really, you shouldn't be going into the office at this hour anyways," Mokuba countered, steeling his shoulders back against his brother's ire.

Kaiba frowned and his eyes flashed between his brother and their unfortunate guest. He looked like he was about to continue arguing, but instead, he sighed. "Fine, whatever. I don't care. He's your puppy. We'll take him home."

Bakura released the breath he didn't know he was holding. He felt the angry electricity coming off of Kaiba and feared he was going to be struck in the crossfire between the siblings. He could remember years ago when Mokuba would go along with whatever his older brother told him. It seemed as he had grown into a teenager entering manhood, he had a habit of disputing his brother and even stronger opinions on what he felt was right behavior versus Kaiba's viewpoints.

"Let's go," Kaiba finally said as he turned around to stalk out of the plane, his sweeping trench coat tails spreading out behind him.

Mokuba gave Bakura a weak smile. "Don't worry about him. He's always grumpy these days."

Not knowing what to say over the prior exchange, Bakura shrugged as he followed the younger man off the plane and into the waiting limo outside on the tarmac. Overhead, the sky was indigo blue with slashes of vibrant purple. Fine, tendrils of clouds cut through the dark colors and caught the last rays of the fading sun. Their pace was too quick to take a moment to observe the majestic natural beauty overhead.

Instead, it was stone silent in the limo as they coasted outside the airport. Bakura couldn't help noticing the lines of fatigue in Kaiba's face appeared more prominent in the ambient lighting illuminating their sitting area. Mokuba had pulled out a portable game system and was rapidly clicking the buttons as they went. Hearing the soft hum of a mechanical engine, Bakura sharply turned his head to see the glass separator dividing them from the driver descending.

"Where to, Masters Kaiba?" asked the steady tones of the driver.

Kaiba frowned and said nothing.

Mokuba looked up from his game. "Oh, what is your address, Bakura?"

Bakura gave an address that was not too far from the Kaiba Corporation building. He hoped that alleviated some of Kaiba's annoyance over this side trip. The window rose back into place, cutting them off from the driver once again. Mokuba returned to his game, and Bakura sat in uneasy silence with Kaiba as they glided through the streets; passing buildings and tucked in nooks of greenery. Industrialization surrounded them on all sides of the glittering metropolitan city.

Sooner than he realized, they arrived in his familiar neighborhood and Bakura sat up in his seat. He could see the lights on in his house. It was almost like they were welcoming him back home. He smiled slightly until his eyes fell on the pile of items at the street curb. Boxes of clothing were neatly stacked. Clothing that suspiciously looked like his. He desperately thought to himself that his family was simply cleaning the home and that was all. However, the sudden increase in his heartbeat betrayed that thought.

The car came to a controlled stop in front of the boxes, and Bakura heard the click of the doors unlocking. Mokuba looked up and then out the window. His eyes widened. Something felt off about this display of neatly stacked items. He could see under the street lamps gaming figurines in one box from his place in the car.

Bakura swallowed. "I... We're here. I better be going."

He was whiter than usual. Mind racing, Bakura tried to connect the dots of what he was seeing but refusing to give inflection. He could see Mokuba's surprised expression. Kaiba had not looked out the window, sitting in his seat with his eyes closed.

"Bakura, what is going on? Are those your things outside?" Mokuba asked.

Laughing, and hearing the hysterical tone in it, Bakura responded, "Yes, but Grandmother and Father are probably just cleaning out the house of things they do not want in it anymore. Yes, just some house cleaning."

His school books were in another box along with his uniform for the university. This was not good. His family must be very angry with him for going to Egypt. He had not said anything to them. In his rush, he had simply left a note in the kitchen and that he would be back soon. He had included that he was sorry because they were still angry about the first time he had run off to Egypt years ago. Bakura snapped out of his thoughts as the driver opened the door.

"We are here, Masters."

Bakura nodded and exited. Mokuba followed. Kaiba opened his eyes when he felt his brother exit the limo. He noticed the boxes on the street, but they meant nothing to him. He wondered what was going on. They were already significantly delayed by this extra step of generosity. Kaiba saw a older woman with ramrod straight posture and a tightly coiled grey bun approach Bakura and Mokuba.

"Ryou, you are no longer welcome in this home. You are dead to the Bakura family," Bakura's grandmother told him.

Mokuba gasped as Bakura cried out, "Grandmother, please! No! You cannot mean this!"

"Take what you will of these things we have removed from our house. The street sweepers will remove the rest in the morning." She turned and walked away.

Bakura fell to his knees. He could feel the concrete scraping their tender flesh through his thin jeans. Tears welled up in his eyes as the weight of his grandmother's brief words penetrated him. Mokuba was in shock next to him. He had never seen something like this happen before. He had seen plenty of verbal and mental abuse from his adopted father but never had witnessed a severing of family ties such as this. Mokuba ran to the limo.

"Brother! We have to do something!" He exclaimed.

Kaiba took in the scene of Bakura at his knees in front of the remnants of his life. He felt a slight contraction in his heart, but he steeled himself against it. He could not allow himself to develop a bleeding heart. It was one thing to keep the promise he made as child in an orphanage, another to take in strays like Mokuba was trying to do.

"Do what, Mokuba?" Kaiba asked.

"We should help him," Mokuba said, surprise on his face at his brother's callousness.

"Why?"

Gaping at his older brother, he tried to respond but words failed him at the moment.

"Do not be concerned about me," Bakura said. No one could see his expression. It was hidden behind his snowy bangs.

Mokuba turned to face the frail-seeming man. "What are you going to do, Bakura?"

Bakura shrugged. He didn't want them to see the tears and fear in his face, so he kept it hidden behind his hair. He was scared if he continued talking that he would reveal this so he stayed silent.

Kaiba interjected, "Let's go, Mokuba. He'll be fine."

"But..."

"Go with your brother, Mokuba. Just go." Bakura said as he stood up and nudged Mokuba toward the limo. The driver had already dropped his bright red bag next to the stacked boxes. It stood out against the plain brown of the cardboard in the gloomy night.

Mokuba frowned. "I'll come back and check on you. Call me if you need anything. Please!"

Bakura nodded as he watched Mokuba get back into the limo. Within moments, it was pulling away and leaving him standing at the corner next to his entire life. Both of them discarded to the streets by their family. His hands curled into fists as he released the tears he had been holding back. Shoulders shook with the sobs.