6.23.13

One-shot/Drabble #11: Pawn

Wrote this like six months ago whilst stressing over the fanfiction contest. AUish as it assumes that Yami B beat the friendship brigade in Season Zero. o w o


"Let me go!"

"No, no, me!"

"Please, please, please, please—"

The tiny shrieks grate against Bakura's brain, causing his teeth to clench and his temper to flare. It is not long before he's snarling for them all to shut up.

When that fails he grabs one of the figurines at random. It's a merchant, female, and she pleads to be released in the few seconds before he throws her to the floor. The object hits the wood with a small crash, not incredibly spectacular but succeeding in breaking the thing into several pieces. Just for good measure Bakura steps on top of the remains, grinding his sneaker back and forth as if killing an insect instead of a soul. He cackles a bit as he does so, loving the feeling of extinguishing the little life with such ease.

The pieces from his final game, of course, had been the first he crushed in such a manner.

After the miniature is little more than dust most of his toys go silent, save for one or two whimpering cries, and he's free to peruse them at his leisure.

Many different kinds have been crammed along the shelves; arranged according to level, type, et cetera. In the light they appear a variety of bright, cheery colors, but Bakura much prefers to keep the lights off, and so they look to be in dull shades of gray.

The entirety needs a good dusting, Bakura observes as he runs a fingertip over one grimy face, but he really can't be bothered. He rubs his forefinger and thumb together to rid them of the filth before moving on.

A short while later he finds what he's looking for. As Bakura picks up a particular figurine a smile creeps onto his face. It's a sterile expression, all lips and no teeth, but the manic gleam in his eyes more than compensates.

He leaves the room without a backward glance, paying no attention to the small number that once more dared to beg for his mercy.

Saying that the apartment is trashed seems a bit of a stretch, but the dwelling certainly has fallen into bad maintenance. Just as he cannot be bothered to clean the figurines that hold the souls of his victims, the very idea of doing housework makes Bakura scoff.

The only thing he cleaned so far consisted of the refrigerator… clearing out a large percentage of the contents counts for something, at least in his mind. The ancient spirit forgot the appetites of pubertal males and felt a certain degree of surprise that his near obsession with eating was not as a result of his own greedy nature but his body's insatiable need for food. No matter. After thousands of years of not tasting anything he was bound to turn into a glutton anyway.

Speaking of which, his gaping pit of a stomach craves sustenance at this very moment. But that can wait.

Bakura settles onto the couch in the living room with the small handmade sculpture still in hand. He probes the figure with surprising gentleness, running his fingers over the smooth finish on the white cloak and tracing the symbol in the center with a thumbnail.

Bakura leans down to loom over the figurine until he knows that all it can see is his visage and smiles again, but this time the expression looks borderline vicious, a grin that tears jaggedly across his face.

"Hello," he whispers like a child sharing a secret. "Did you have fun with your friends?"

This one remains quiet where the others did not, face staying frozen into the expression that had originally been painted on: a plain but cheerful smile further accented by huge green eyes.

"No, I didn't think so. After all, they hate you, don't they? It's your fault this happened to them." The idea that the others would recognize this soul and despise him amuses the spirit of the Ring greatly.

Pointed silence, but Bakura swears he can see the smile turn downwards a little bit and the eyes narrow a fraction.

He snickers and leans back into the couch cushions, idly reaching under his shirt to scratch his belly with his free hand. The Ring shifts with the movement, pendulums hitting against the torn flesh where Bakura embedded them when his host did not cooperate. The wounds sting a bit when the cold metal touches, but he relishes the pain.

What other buttons to push..?

"I should probably mention that your father called today."

Now he knows for certain the figurine holding Ryou Bakura's soul listens because the sweet little smile turns to a definite frown and the green eyes are glaring daggers. The statement is an absolute lie, his father has not called for months and probably won't do so any time soon, but of course the little fool completely takes the bait. Giddy malice pools in Bakura's insides.

"I suppose he's my father now." The spirit softens his violet gaze and forces his voice into a mocking imitation of Ryou's timbre. "Don't worry, he'll never know the difference." He reverts back to his natural tone to sneer, "Not like the bastard ever loved you anyway."

Ryou gapes at him for a moment, stung, before his expression contorts and in a sudden he bites down on Bakura's thumb. The pain feels like the equivalent of being pricked with a sewing needle, tingling and unpleasant but miniscule. Bakura raises an eyebrow as the figurine bites down again before he proceeds to flick him in the side of the head. Ryou's movements are limited by the lack of dice or a game board, so he can't do much to react aside from let out a pained cry.

"Touched a nerve, did I? You like your father. I'm so, so, sorry." Bakura says it with melting tenderness as cradles the figure in his hand, but his voice grows icy with the next part. "I didn't realize that a loving father could leave his son alone after the death of his mother and sister."

Silence, but the little green eyes are squinted closed.

A chuckle rumbles from deep in Bakura's throat. "Oh, that's right. He didn't leave you all alone, did he? He gave you a cursed artifact to keep you company. And look where we are now. Maybe he wasn't such a horrible father after all."

Little hiccuping noises—no doubt made in an effort to hold back sobs—could be heard. Had he been able to the figurine would undoubtedly wriggle in his grasp. Bakura finds it adorable.

"Sh, sh, it's all right. I know it hurts. If it makes you feel any better, my father didn't love me either, but I turned out fine."


I was informed that there was something wonky going on with the review system... I think it should be fixed now..?

With that in mind, would you guys be willing to review~? x w x

~Albino Shadowz