A/N: Behold more people with generic Japanese names getting killed! Seriously, I just realized that all the dying-OC names are horrible, but then again, I try not to give them names because they will, well, die so… Also, a brief moment to acknowledge tsukimeushi from dA who drew Bakura's ring before I could write it, all credit to her then… Hey, do you think this needs warnings to the beginning? I mean, some people might get disturbed by this sort of things xD Oh and I think FFnet ate some of the quotation marks from the last chapter 0.o Well, anyway, on with the madness!
Shattered Crescent
Part Four
Bakura laid on the couch, his legs hanging over the other armrest, an arm over his eyes and the other hanging off the couch, a remote scrapping the floor. The TV was on and the news glared from it to the otherwise dark room. After working so hard on the exhibition, Bakura felt like he deserved some time to laze around and do nothing, which was what he had been doing for the past day or two. As much bliss as doing nothing except sleeping and eating were, it was getting boring and his mood had quickly reached a low point. He needed something to do, other than watching the news to hear how his little nocturnal escapades confused and frightened the general public. It was entertaining to hear that no one had a clue of his identity or motives, and how the police was trying to cover their incompetence, but even that got boring after a while, no matter how big of an ego booster it was. Bakura snorted; as if his ego needed boosting.
"Ah well… we don't have any big leads yet but right now we're focusing on creating a profile for the killer." Bakura wasn't really concentrating on what the man on the TV was saying but then his own name caught his attention. "Oh, Bakura, there you are. Come here for a minute."
Bakura turned his head towards the box, cracking an eye open and sitting up upon seeing a familiar face. It took a moment for him to recall how he knew the face but it all came back to him quickly, the name following not far behind. "Bakura Ryou…"
The young man was half dragged in front of the cameras and he looked like he would much rather be anywhere else. He glanced around as if looking for a way out, but finding none, succumbed to his cruel fate.
Bakura smirked, almost finding the awkward actions endearing but surprise covered the feeling. He had had no idea Ryou was a cop; he didn't look it. Bakura leaned his elbows on his knees and listened the young man speak, voice shaking a bit despite how he tried to cover it.
"…I-I mean, it's a bit sketchy but I- um, the Domino City Police has some idea what we're dealing with here," Ryou explained, giving the reporter a self-conscious smile, not quite facing the camera.
"Is there something you can tell us about the killer now?" the reporter asked and Bakura leaned farther forward, interested in hearing the answer, too. Did this Ryou know what he was doing? A small grin made its way to his lips; he doubted it but that would be the first.
Ryou fidgeted, glancing behind him with something resembling a scowl aimed at the person who forced him into this situation, before speaking clearly this time, turning his face towards the camera. "Well… I- We would advice the media not to report about this so much as it seems that this person enjoys the attention, and especially hearing how the police has no clue about how to catch him or even challenge him possibly edges the person on. Thank you." Ryou turned around to push his way out of the crowd and disappeared from view.
Bakura's eyes had widened in surprise, the rest of the news report falling on deaf ears. He noticed his hands shaking and clasped them together to steady them. An amused chuckle penetrated the darkness and he could feel his heart racing in reaction to the challenge, the exhilaration surging through his body making him shiver. A grin formed and he ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth, skimming a pronounced canine.
"Bring it on, Bakura Ryou…" he purred to the dark room, all traces of his boredom gone.
Malik was not a happy camper. The fact that he wasn't camping but staying in a hotel had nothing to do with it. He wasn't sure if he should even be this angry but he guessed the thought-numbing headache had something to do with it, along with the knowledge that the incident had been his own fault. Even after a few days he still got angry whenever it crossed his mind. No one outside his immediate family was supposed to know!
A few hours had passed since the dreadful moment he had met Bakura, and Malik was sitting on a barstool, leaning against the wooden surface in front of him, listening a conversation Bakura was having with the bartender. Malik's face wore an increasingly annoyed frown, having long ago stopped hoping the intruding man would leave and now just wished he would shut up. Malik had thought he could use Bakura as he seemed to know most of these people but so far Malik had just been introduced to the bartender who had nodded at him before starting a conversation about something useless and unimportant. The current topic seemed to be women, with loads of men thrown into the mix.
"You don't say..? But seriously, Bakura, you should find someone a bit steadier to-"
"Don't even start," Bakura interrupted the older man. "I'm beginning to think it's impossible to find a person who has something interesting in their head as well as in their pants," he grinned and Malik rolled his eyes but that went unnoticed. "Or it's very difficult at least."
The bartender smiled a bit but shook his head. "Difficult indeed… Too high standards if you ask me, and what's with the 'I want someone who's my equal' talk? I thought you'd want someone to push around and who would worship your greatness."
"If I wanted someone who fell on their knees at My command, I'd be married to dozens of people already," Bakura shot back.
Malik took a sip of his drink he had almost forgotten he had in all his boredom. He wondered if he should leave to either go talk to someone else or to come back at a later time when Bakura wasn't here but it sounded like the two males were closing their conversation. Finally! Maybe now they could talk about something that interested him.
He took another gulp while waiting and felt warm for the first time since arriving to this country, most likely because of the alcohol, and decided to take off the thicker shirt. He didn't realize it but the hem of his other shirt lifted up in the process, only noticing something off when a finger traced one of his markings. A surge of rage took over, an unpleasant haze clouding his vision, and he turned to punch the intruder, aiming for his face but hitting his shoulder. Bakura almost fell off his stool and he would have had he not moved his head out of the way.
Malik made sure his shirt was back in order before directing his hateful glare at Bakura who looked surprised for a second but it soon faded into something unnerving and knowing. He ignored any expression the other might have and a crossover between a yell and a shriek erupted from his throat. "Do not touch me!"
"Those aren't ordinary tattoos, are they?"
The question might have as well been a physical attack as Malik stumbled down from his stool, eyes telling of shock and resentment. "That's none of your goddamn business! They might be! The fuck do you know!"
Bakura rubbed his shoulder, frowning at Malik who was backing away. "I recognize knife marks when I see them."
Malik's eyes were blurry and his face twisted in anger but he wasn't stupid enough to start anything here; he just needed to get out.
Ryou jumped at the sound of his cell phone ringing. He had been sitting on his bed reading late into the night when sleep had eluded him once more. The enchanted world of fantasy and suspense was now broken and he had been brought to reality by the loud modern-day device.
He reached for the cell on his nightstand, answering it in his normal polite manner. The unnerved voice of one of his coworkers made it to his ears, making him frown in concern.
"Bakura? Come to 7th Noname Lane, the third floor, apartment twelve. You better see this one yourself. We think the same person is responsible and, well… just come and take a look." The nervousness of the other unsettled Ryou who agreed to come as soon as he could. Noname Lane wasn't far from where he lived, a good thing considering how dangerous it could be to go out alone at night. He wasn't completely helpless but he couldn't hold his own against more than one person and the little he knew about self defense was taught to him by Honda.
Ryou grabbed everything he needed and made sure to lock his door before walking in a quick pace towards his destination, keeping an eye out for potential threats. It didn't take him long to arrive to the correct location and the police cars and curious onlookers confirmed that he was in the right place.
The unsettling feeling from earlier had turned into a sick ache in his stomach by the time Ryou reached the third floor and found the apartment. The one who had called him was there to greet him and guide him in. It occurred to him that he had never actually been on a murder scene before and the tight knot in his gut got even tighter.
"I hope you have a strong stomach because this isn't pretty," the officer warned him just before they stepped into the room most of the activity seemed to revolve around. Ryou didn't feel like his stomach was strong right now but decided that it would be. He was a professional and professionals didn't hurl on crime scenes.
Once the sight greeted him, it took him a while to take it all in and for him mind to comprehend it. When he grasped what was in front of him, his hand flew to his mouth and he took a few steps back, praying that he could tear his eyes off the sight.
"Oh god…"
On the floor lay a body, back facing upwards and shirt torn open to reveal a bloody back. It wasn't all the blood around the body that made Ryou have such a strong reaction but the reason why all the blood was there made him feel sick, made him want to scream and vomit at the same time if only physically possible.
There, visible despite the blood flown, carved with deep and accurate knife cuts, was his own name, written along the spine with the last stroke of "Ryou" almost disappearing under the waistline of the victim's pants. Never before had he hated his name but now…
"Hey, you ok?" A hand landed on his shoulder, making him glance at the man standing behind him. Ryou nodded while trying to steady his breathing and calm down at least a little. Professional, he was a professional.
"Yes, thank you, just a bit… shocked." He moved out of the hand's reach, not looking at the other, still attempting to collect himself. "Are… are the wounds post mortal?" He hoped they were so the victim didn't have to suffer so much; this was horrible enough as it was.
"That hasn't been determined yet."
Ryou nodded again, his face not giving away any emotion as he stepped closer, mindful not to touch the pool of blood and trying not to be in anyone's way, crouching down to take a closer look. He didn't have a problem with blood and had seen a fair share of dead people during his life but the writing still glared at him, accusing him. Was it his fault that this person had died? Did he die just so the murderer could leave Ryou a message or would he have died anyway?
Ryou shook his head to banish the thoughts; now was not the time to blame himself. This was a challenge, a reply to his foolish comment on the news. He hadn't thought it would get such a strong reaction but the fact only proved his statement to be right. He had struck a nerve no one had managed to do so far, turning this from a battle between the Domino City Police and the murderer, to a battle between the murder and him, Bakura Ryou. Also, if he wasn't over analyzing like he sometimes did, there was another message: blurt more information about me to the public and more people will die.
"Bakura? Hey, Bakura."
Ryou almost snapped out of his thoughts, looking up at his coworker, mind somewhere between his thought world and reality.
"You need to get out of the way and let these people do their jobs. Let's go."
Ryou got up, his legs feeling a bit feeble, and followed, but his brows knitted together. What about his job? Didn't he need to do it? He thought his work was rather important but the people looking for more solid leads got more credit than he did. After all, he was only trying to figure out how the criminal mind worked.
A yell came from the door, followed by a man struggling against an officer who tried to keep him away. Ryou could guess how this would end, having dealt with victims' relatives and friends before. Somehow, that job always seemed to fall on him…
"Takuto!" the man yelled before reaching the room and ceasing all movement. More people were rushing to take him away and Ryou turned his eyes elsewhere, unable to look at the scene.
"Takuto… Who the fuck is Bakura Ryou?!"
Ryou flinched at the enraged yell but turned to look at the one yelling, his face empty, past mournful. "I am," he told quietly but somehow it was heard by what seemed to be all the people in the apartment.
The man's eyes narrowed. "You? Are you responsible?"
Ryou wanted to tell that he wasn't but the truth was that he was at fault here, indirectly but at fault all the same. "I-I…"
Ryou's stuttering seemed to provoke the other as pure hate twisted his features into something inhuman. "I'm going to kill you!" He tried to charge but was held down by the people who had hurried to help. Ryou backed away, eyes wide and horrified, just shaking his head at the obscenities the one held down yelled at him. A pair of hands grasped his shoulders and began taking him away.
"Come, I'll take you home."
Ryou let himself be escorted out, the sick feeling from earlier coming back. As soon as they got out of the building, Ryou bent over and threw up next to the sidewalk, faintly feeling the other man hold his hair up and pat his back. He felt awful and knew there would be no peaceful sleep tonight.
"You could've told me, I would've come over," Hiroto told, angry at his friend for not letting him in on things unless specifically asked. Apparently, Bakura had been shocked by a body that had his name carved on it but he hadn't told Hiroto about it, instead choosing to stay cooped up in his apartment, alone, writing some report about the killer, and so, mulling over everything by himself. Hiroto knew Ryou was prone to do things like that because of some stupid belief that he could, and should, deal with things on his own, but he could include Hiroto some more, ask for help when he evidently needed it.
Bakura sighed, further messing his hair by burying a hand in it, eyes remaining on the papers covering his living room coffee table. He continued to write something down with hurried and messy handwriting, like trying to write as fast as he thought. "Sorry…" The words were spoken so softly Hiroto almost missed them. "I didn't want to bother you. I'm fine though."
Hiroto wanted to rip his hair off and feed it to Bakura for being such a damned liar. "No, you're not 'fine'. You're never 'fine' when you say you are, I know that much."
Bakura kept writing. "You should be at work."
The other frowned, close to yelling at his friend for acting like he did. "It's my day off; I was at work on Saturday. Come on, let's do something fun."
"I have to work, maybe later."
Hiroto sighed, heavy and long, voicing his suspicions, "I bet you worked through the weekend, too."
Bakura still didn't raise his eyes to meet Hiroto's. "Only through Sunday."
"Ryou!" The yell came before he could react, frustrated by the other's behavior. The writing stopped and Bakura frowned at his papers, his voice taking a tone Hiroto didn't recognize.
"He called me by my first name, too…"
Confusion took over as Hiroto stopped to wonder if he should know this "he" Bakura was referring to. "Who?" He didn't know anyone who called Bakura by his given name except for his missing father. Bakura's voice cut his chain of thought short though.
"Mikazuki Bakura."
Hiroto's thoughtful frown increased, feeling just a bit dumb when repeating his question: "Who?"
Bakura looked at his direction, finally meeting his eyes. "The art exhibition I went to, remember? Bakura's the artist." A funny sort of smile made Bakura's face look somehow off when coupled with something disturbing in his eyes. "A strange character…" Despite how Hiroto had wished that his friend would look at him, now when he looked away and to his hands, Hiroto was grateful.
"Oh… Well…" He wasn't sure what to say. Bakura hardly ever mentioned anyone he had randomly met, and they, Bakura and this artist guy, must have talked and gotten to know each other if they were on first name basis, which was strange considering how they had just met and because Bakura hadn't tried to make more real friends in ages. Or perhaps "friends" wasn't what he had made, a thought that disturbed Hiroto for reasons that had nothing to do with how this Mikazuki Bakura was also a man.
"Really arrogant, confident, to the point of being annoying, actually," Bakura continued and laughed but it was hollow and short. "Anyway, enough about him." He turned to Hiroto again. "I can't stop blaming myself of the latest murder. That's what you came to talk about, wasn't it?"
The sudden change of subject threw Hiroto off for a second but he was more shocked about the admission. "But… why?" He sat on the couch next to Bakura, not too close but close enough to peer under the white bangs incase his friend would try to hide behind them again. "There's nothing you could've done to stop it."
Bakura smiled. "I could have kept my mouth shut. I shouldn't have challenged him like that, by saying what I did in public." He glanced at the papers. "It did give me a lot to think about though… but I think I'll need to rewrite some parts still before-" Bakura paused and the look he gave Hiroto was bordering to desperation. "Do you think it was a death threat?"
Hiroto had to blink, having difficulty with keeping up with the other's train of thought. "Are you talking about the latest victim or..?"
"Yes, yes, of course I am," Bakura told and nodded in time with his words, speaking fast. "What else? Listen; at first I thought it was a different kind of reply to my announcement but then it occurred to me that what if the body represented me? I don't want to die but I guess that would be ok if-"
"Ryou!" Hiroto grabbed the other's shoulders and shook. "You stop that right now." Bakura just stared at him but at least he was quiet now. It hurt to see his friend like this when Hiroto had hoped it would never happen again. "The first thing that came to your mind was probably right; it always is; now you're just thinking too much again. Ok?" Bakura nodded. "And no talking about dying either," he added, hoping that he sounded firm enough to force the other out of this state.
"A-alright… I'm sorry, thank you, I'm ok now." Bakura gave a small smile, removing Hiroto's hands from his shoulders and turning to search for his pen.
The reason for the strange behavior was clear as day to Hiroto who had seen it occur before. "You haven't been sleeping, have you?"
The pen had rolled under the table so Bakura had dropped on his knees on the floor and was reaching out for it. "Not since… uh… Monday, I think." He emerged from under the table, triumphant and with the pen. "Why? Does it show?" The grin that followed got no response.
"It does," Hiroto spoke. "I thought you promised to at least try and get some sleep, or was that just so you could get rid of Dr. what's-his-face?"
The grin faded as fast as it had appeared, the one it had belonged to remaining seated on the floor, finding the pen more interesting than Hiroto's accusing face. "No, I… I've been trying to but it hasn't worked too well…" he muttered to the pen, hair falling on his face. "The nightmares couldn't be much worse."
Hiroto shook his head, getting up. "You can't go on like this." He would have suggested quitting the job but he knew how Bakura would react to that and he was in no mood for an argument. "Let's go."
Bakura's head jerked up and he clutched his pen tighter. "Where are we going?"
"Away from here, come on. I won't let you stay cooped up like this; it's driving you nuts." When the other looked ready to protest, Hiroto stopped him before he could say a word. "No. You are coming with me, peacefully and without a fight because resisting an officer will only get you in more trouble."
He was relieved to finally see a smile that wasn't fake or disturbing as Bakura got off the floor. "I have no choice then. Just let me get changed first."
"Make it quick."
Bakura laughed and the atmosphere got much lighter and a gentle smile of his own tugged Hiroto's lips upwards.
You know what I would like you to do…