Sunday morning.
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The Landlord opened the door with perfect stealth, and stood on the threshold.
It was years since he'd come into that apartment, pretty much since Bakura had moved in, because there was something other than a physical boundary between one side of the door and the next one. Really, Ryou did not like to pry into the privacy of any of his tenants, but he also guessed that with Bakura there was another reason. For all the magic that he knew, the Landlord could not explain it… why the grim Coroner had always felt… different. Particular. It may have had to do with the fact that Ryou knew the man could sense the spirits in the place to some extent, and he was always sympathetic to people with some degree of spiritual power. It may have also had to do with that, amusingly enough, Bakura reminded Ryou of his own father, Dr. Ysbryd, whom he had very much loved until he was killed in an expedition in sub-SaharanAfrica. Something in the eyes and the color of his hair, he guessed, or perhaps the aura he gave off. Whatever the reason, Ryou had not once violated that boundary between his merry world of spirits, voodoo, and plantlife, and the shadowy realm of the Coroner's room, where the blinds were never opened.
Yet, Dark Malik roving down the corridor behind him, Ryou stood on the threshold.
Nothing stirred inside, but a smell that reminded him of mould oozed lazily towards him; and, seeing the Coroner's keys and the wallet discarded on the desk by the entrance, the voodoo doctor felt a strange pang of something in his stomach. Like of guilt, but not… maybe pity.
"Hesitating, dear Landlord?" Dark Malik's deep voice whispered in his ear from behind. Ryou shivered, but he wasn't taken by surprise.
"He keeps this place hideous," the young man of the skull earring observed in a whisper.
"It's only dirty, no big deal. I've seen 'em worse," the fiendish teen said, "vendettas, or places of junkies, swarming with vermin and stench." He sounded cool and nonchalant, and honest. "You got it easy."
The Landlord frowned. That was a peculiar confidence boost, but it somehow did the trick.
"Bakura…?" he called tentatively.
The silence didn't answer him, but the Coroner's sleeping presence was easy to pick out. Everything was so… quiet.
Ryou sighed and shifted his weight. "To intrude… or not to intrude," he mumbled.
"You already did," Dark Malik observed.
"Right," the Landlord quickly said, and quickly added, "If I didn't have a conscience, I'd be in deep trouble having you around."
The teen mock-bowed. "You flatter me, Landlord."
Ryou tsk-ed, something he didn't normally do, and ventured further into Bakura's apartment, past the living room and into his bedroom. In some way, Dark Malik seemed to respect the great shift in the odd power-relationship thing going on between the two men, (or maybe simply didn't give a damn) because rather than follow the Landlord, he smirked at God knows what evil thought and left. Once out in the corridor, he leaned against the wall and slouched to the ground; where, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his stomach, he closed his eyes and took a nap.
A shift of a power relationship was mentioned, am I correct? What was changing was really their bond, in the raw. Ryou had, and he knew it, not only come in uninvited, he was also going as far as to invade the privacy of his room. And who does that? Family, or friends, certainly not your landlord, and most certainly not a stranger.
"…Bakura?" the younger man called tentatively, and a groan came from somewhere in the deep darkness of the Coroner's room.
Ryou felt around in the darkness that grew dimmer as his eyes got used to it, until he touched the edge of his bed and, eventually, Bakura's pant leg under the covers. Smiling to himself in amused resignation, he shook it. "Wake up, I have to show you something," he said.
The groan of annoyance he got in response was louder than the previous and more definite, it distinctly sounded like fuck off.
The Landlord felt Malik snickering somewhere behind him, but he royally ignored the ghost, and tried again: "Bakura, it's me, Ryou, and you want to-"
But he'd said the magic word, and the Coroner sat up abruptly, teeth gritting in (not horror, but) dread, and, though sleepily, clearly said under his breath "Landlord…!"
Ryou laughed at how needlessly strangled he sounded. "Relax… good morning, by the way."
Bakura let himself fall back again on the pillow, as if the world was falling on him too.
"They complained, about you coming late last night… (or early this morning), but don't pay any attention to them really," Ryou said too conversationally.
Bakura groaned.
"But I never meant to wake you up to spite you," the Landlord spoke in complete honesty, "I found something in the ink… Something… relevant. So drop by my place when you can, you must see it."
The Coroner's maroon eyes followed the young man as he silently made his way out of his lair of a room, and sighed. He was underslept and hungover, the shadows did well to hide the dark halos round his eyes and his mud-smudged toes (don't ask, never ask) and his tobacco-stained fingers from when he picked apart the ends of his cigarettes and toyed with the health-impairing contents.
He sighed, because he needed to sleep, but he saw ahead of himself a menacing shadow looming over his presumably idle Sunday: work.
You can always take a nap later, his mind sarcastically announced him. Yeah, right, he answered himself, right after I win an all-inclusive trip to the Caribbean.
.
.
.
Dark Malik, arms crossed as he leaned against his doorframe down the corridor, laughed at him. And his unsettling laughter followed him all the way back to his Landlord's apartment.
.
.
.
Why wasn't he surprised when the door opened on its own accord even before he had time to knock?
He didn't bother announcing he was there because, evidently, the Landlord knew already. He made a sight apt for compassion, what with his tired eyes and faded jeans, and the black jacket he'd thrown over a grey shirt he really needed to get washed. He looked homeless or unemployed, absolutely not like 'His Majesty's Coroner'.
Which he was, and would be for a long time.
"I'm in the kitchen, Bakura," Ryou's voice called, "Take a seat… somewhere… make yourself at home."
Weird invitation, Bakura thought. He knew the dining room (it also functioned as a living room, since it was a rather large room) from the last time he'd been there, still, he had a hard time telling it was the same place: now, it looked unexpectedly like a mad scientist's working place… and he was very inclined to think he was not too far from the truth. Countless open books lay scattered all around the place, on the arms of the sofas, on the floor, on the chairs, and the table had been taken over by chemistry implements and strange-looking potion-like pots. And feathers, twigs, amulets, chunks of bone and ritual symbols that gave Bakura the ultimate creeps.
The Coroner couldn't help asking, "What's all this stuff, Landlord?"
Quiet snickering came as a response from the kitchen. Bakura sulked, leaning against the entrance door, because there was really nowhere for him to sit down.
Well, he'd always despised Sunday mornings anyway.
"I was making you some coffee," Ryou said when he came back into the room, barefoot, wearing black slacks and a simple khaki shirt although it was not warm enough for him to be wearing that. Bakura had never paid much attention to the little tattoos Ryou had on his hands, but, as the younger man handed him a smoking mug (that smelled heavenly, by the by), he couldn't help looking at them. Because it seemed as if they were… fresh. Newly made. Whatever.
"I've picked up information, from here and there," Ryou said as he cleared a sofa for Bakura to sit down, scooping up three thick volumes from the arms, and a couple of tables with scientific-looking information on them. "…and I must say reading Sherlock Holmes is the best inspiration source," he chuckled, at an inner joke perhaps, the Coroner failed to follow a thread of coherence.
So he just drank in silence.
"It's Colombian coffee, it's really good, isn't it?"
Ryou seemed to be on excellent spirits. Well, good for him, Bakura thought moodily. But he nodded. Superb coffee.
The Landlord hummed as he set up something under a microscope, presumably for Bakura to see. "I've been vague, sorry," he said when he was done, "I know where this ink came from."
Bakura blinked, slowly. "Wait. . . what?"
"This ink- I can tell you where they made it. Take a look here, if you want."
Bakura obliged, but all he saw under the microscope was a puzzling picture that resembled bad modern art.
"I isolated the components, too… it's almost completely herbal." Oh, then Bakura remembered- Ryou wasn't just a crazed voodoo doctor, he was a botanist too. He'd not been paying that much attention to the young man when he'd told him… who would have thought he could actually…
"It's a lead, isn't it?"
Ryou grinned, and Bakura couldn't help noticing there was something that ran innately creepy in the way he grinned.
"But I'd like to talk to the anthropologist… to Dr. Atem, if it's possible. Before we jump to conclusions."
"You already did that, didn't you," the Coroner asked slightly sly.
The young man answered with a small smile. "Yes, but I'm not telling you anything."
"Right. Of course…" the Coroner sighed, he felt so tired. "I'll get you that prick's number."
.
.
.
"You look less mortified than you should," a mocking voice observed as Bakura opened the door.
The Coroner groaned. "Fuck off, Ishtar"
"I'm doing just that."
Bakura ignored him best he could as he went into his apartment and fetched Atem's phone number for Ryou. Maybe they were getting lucky. Maybe the investigation… or whatever it was… was going somewhere.
"The Landlord just found something, you know. In the ink. Maybe we can finally get some evidence to get you hanged. "
Dark Malik chuckled in his deep voice and smirked. "Try it, please. I'll be right here… it's always a pleasure to laugh at you, Bakura."
Bakura was wishing the punk had chosen to run away instead. Whyever did he stay around for, anyway?
Maybe he could leave it all to the Landlord: ink, Ishtar, investigation, everything, and crawl back into bed and die.
.
.
.
Malik had popped out of nowhere while Ryou was on the phone, and Bakura flipped through the pages of a book on voodoo in creolized French he didn't understand. Exactly his idea of a quiet Sunday.
"Answer me something, Bakura," The ghost said when he finally tired of reading over the Coroner's shoulder (unlike Bakura, Malik did understand French, and it annoyed him that the man passed the pages so fast he didn't get to finish the sentences), "Why doesn't the Yard open a murder investigation? It's high time. And a houngan is doing their work."
Bakura effectively shut the book (and did the damned thing just wail just now?... he didn't want to know) and snickered quietly. "Kaiba doesn't want the press bitching their noses…. It is really better when murderers don't know you're after them," he conceded, with some wry sort of humor. "See, it's a shame to the department if it leaks to the public that they've absolutely no clue what to do now…. A-and last, but never least, he hates Crawford, the Prosecutor, with a passion." He paused, remembered some scenes. "It's quite funny," he added, although the ghost was looking at him with eyes that hinted at 'what a poor excuse'.
Bakura shrugged a 'can't do much', and picked up another book. A guide to Welsh baking. Oh well. At least, this one appeared to be… harmless.
Meanwhile, on the phone, the following conversation took place:
"Someone that knows Coptic will usually know Hieratic as well, probably also Arabic and Latin," Dr. Atem explained, "This person chose, however, to use Coptic. My educated guess, because so far I have only theorized about this, is that the Coptic language is subconsciously linked to a religious behavior… a 'pagan', so to speak, religious behavior. Otherwise, the choice of language would be different."
The Landlord, pen and paper within reach, nodded. "Right. I have been told Ms. Ishtar knew Coptic… but she couldn't have written that on herself, it'd be too difficult."
"Yes…"
"I'd say, it was her father, then. He is an educated man with a thing for the occult, I've learned."
"It works in my scenario," Atem agreed, "But bear in mind you never know if a third person may be around."
Ryou sighed. "Yes, that would make things more complicated. But for the sake of the… scenario…"
"Right," Atem agreed again, "If the father wrote that, it is most likely he made the dye himself. If one could speak of modern-day priests, they would definitely syncresize ancient rituals with a more… actual means of expression -Coptic, in my opinion, would be ideal, for the strength of the words…"
The conversation went silent as both men organized their thoughts. Atem, Ryou noted, was excited about the language choice, but that was not what had made the young houngan call the anthropologist.
"But updating the language doesn't mean they've to change their traditional… ink recipes -to call them some way- right?"
"Not at all," Atem said, getting an inking as to where the voodoo doctor might be pointing. He turned on his laptop, since he felt they might need the comprehensive databases he had access to. "In fact, (but please, do remember I am theorizing) it would make sense they did not- magical beliefs are closely linked to sacred materials… although telling you this might be redundant."
Ryou chuckled quietly. Yes, it was rather redundant- it was what had made him conceive the idea that, once developed, had led him to calling Dr. Atem. "I am going to read to you the components of the ink," the young man said, "If we're lucky, and this spell was documented, we may find out what its purpose was."
Dr. Atem was getting that thrill he knew so well; the thrill of the pursuit and eventual discovery. It was just as looking for ancient burial sites in the middle of the desert. "I'll be needing some time to run the equivalence in the database, but think of it as found, Mr. Ysbryd."
Ryou made sure the anthropologist had his number, wished him good luck and hung. Bakura had dozed off in a very uncomfortable position on the sofa, and Malik had apparently got bored and disappeared.
The Landlord looked at the Coroner and let him sleep, he knew he needed it. Rather than remain in the dining room, he walked in silence to the kitchen where he brew himself some of his strong-scented tea, he sat on the counter and thought. Summarily, if he and Dr. Atem made things connect, it would be possible for them to know not only where Mr. Ishtar was, but also whether he was implicated in the murder of his daughter. It was an appealing prospect, and he smiled in anticipation.
He knew what motivated Dr. Atem to help him- he'd sensed it in his voice. The thrill of the hunt. It excited Ryou as well, because he too was, in a way, a predator. Well, he'd always frowned at that word. But he liked to do good, and hated it when the bad guys got away. And he'd made Malik a promise. And he really did believe Dark Malik was innocent (he'd taken him in… had he not?).
And Bakura needed help, badly.
And he would've never dreamed, back when he was still an eager ginger-haired teenager who dreamed big, that he'd be helping out in a criminal investigation. That was a novelty.
And it thrilled him.
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Author's Note:
I'm so sorry for the late update. Writer's block... you know. And I've been painting, too, and that's so time-consuming.
And I've been writing 'shadow realms' (check my account ;) ;) it's a great story about what would happen if the Yamis came back after the series' end)
Well. Enough of excuses.
This isn't the longest chapter, but I felt that adding more scenes to it would make it off-topic. It's very important that Ryou's gone into Bakura's apartment because a boundary of formality was broken... with all that's happening, they can't go back to their former landlord/tenant relationship. Well, that's kind of an obvious thing to say at the moment, isn't it?
Anyway. Now we're actually going somewhere... well... the investigation I mean. Stay around for the next chapter! Stuff HAPPENS!
(omg... it really does =D)
Read you soon!
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To the awesome people deemed as "reviewers" by the site, whom I'd rather call Internet friends =D :
Hana-Liatris: yeah, Bakura's so human he gets to be hungover XD perhaps Ryou should brew him something voodoo to make him feel better XDD
RiverTear: brief Kisara in the last chapter but there shall be more! I like the character too much :P But I guess excited!Ryou kinda compensates XD he can be so creepy, hahaha
mari marz: I loved your review so much there went the Sherlock Holmes reference, dedicated to you :P Seriously, Sherlock is my oldest platonic love I think, it's the highest honor ever to be told this humble story makes you think of him *blush* I'm sorry for the slow development of the Ryou/Bakura thing, but I'm thinking of adding a chapter once the story is done to see how they interact... To round up the characters' evolution I guess :)
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To people who add the story to favorites or alerts: Guys, I appreciate the silent support, I really do. Each reader means the world, and I'm thrilled you like the story enough to want to keep on reading it :)
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Next chapter: Phonecalls are made, the plot thickens, and there be dragons. Of the fictional kind. Ye beware.
(...where did the serious/grave element in this story go, anyway?)