I don't like this chapter at all. Not at all. It's a completely different idea than what I'd originally had planned for it, and when I first got it in my head and started typing it, it was horribly sad and I felt like it had wonderful potential, but I don't know where that went to. It's a great idea, but I just could have done it a lot better. So I apologize for that, but hopefully it will still be somewhat good.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or the song "Friday." Both are owned by their respective owners, and both owners are not me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: And Sunday Comes After… Wards
Bakura hated growing old. He hated feeling the way his host's body would gradually lose its strength until eventually it lost the will to live completely. All that was left after that stage was death, and Bakura hated to die. Dying was yet another reminder that he'd lost. It wasn't losing to the Pharaoh, which he hated more than anything, but it was losing another host, losing more years, losing another chance to finally take the revenge he'd waited so long for.
He'd willingly let himself grow old and die only once. As his life had been cut rather short when he'd had a body of his own, he'd wanted to know what happened to a being that had lived all its years. So Bakura had reminded in the body of one of his first hosts instead of leaving it as he usually did, and experienced firsthand all the joys of growing old. He hated it. It wasn't something that he wanted to ever do again. He could deal with inhabiting a host who accidentally killed him or herself, but growing old was the worst.
The body of his current host was reaching seventy. It disgusted Bakura. Every day he woke up and felt how weak his body had become and longed to just retreat into his ring and force his host to cast the item aside so he could remain in peace. Every day he was tempted but did not do so. He had made a promise, and while he was a liar and a thief and had never been so concerned with keeping his word before, this time it counted. This time he was needed.
It was disgusting to watch another person grow old. It was loathesome to watch their body shrivel and their mind slowly rot. It was even more so when he could remember how that person used to be. When he stopped and watched the body decay in his mind. It made him sick. It made him want to leave even more than the thought of his own body's slow death, but it was also the same thing that kept him right where he was. Marik could hardly take care of himself anymore.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise, when the man's once-healthy mind started to go. After all, Marik came from a line of family with mental problems and had suffered his own at a fairly young age. He'd gotten better, but had only stayed better until he'd reached the age of fifty or so. Then the delusions had crept in. They'd been small things at first, or minor confusions, and Bakura had hardly cared. It might have disturbed him if he'd been a normal human, but he was not. What did it matter to him if Marik thought every now and then that he was being watched? If it had just been that, Bakura might have left this body a long time ago.
Marik meant something to him. Marik had always meant something to him. Bakura had never figured out what exactly that something was, because he had never cared enough to define it. He didn't want it to be the "love" that humans cherished so much. He had tried to fight against it once, but had failed spectacularly and since then concentrated his efforts on other areas. If this something meant that Marik would constantly be by his side, then fine, there were worse things in life. He did not mind Marik's company, and though the male had never quite returned to his previous evil ways, he was still just as cunning and manipulative, and Bakura found his mind useful. When that mind started to deteriorate, Bakura should have fled as quickly as he could have.
If it had happened about ten years earlier, he might have.
While he acknowledged that he did feel something for Marik, at the age of forty, that something still hadn't been all that important to Bakura. He'd been in Ryou's body for a little over twenty years by then, and had known Marik and had the other by his side for the same amount of time. To a human, it was a long time. To Bakura, it was the blink of an eye. He was not too proud to admit that he enjoyed the companionship. However, if Marik had begun to lose his mind at that age, Bakura would have left easily enough. He liked Marik because he was useful. While he couldn't be called useless when his memory started going, he certainly wasn't ever as helpful as he'd been at a younger age. But before Bakura could know what would happen to Marik's mind, he died.
He wasn't quite sure what killed Ryou. He didn't like dying. He never had. He didn't like to remember dying, and so he didn't bother to retain the information. It had been a cold winter and his pathetic former host's body had caught pneumonia. That may or may not have been the cause, but when Ryou died, Bakura was locked away again in his Ring. A person at the hospital Ryou was treated at had stolen the Ring when Ryou died, and for six years Bakura had to search for a new host.
He'd been irritated that someone had not only dared to steal the Ring, but that he had no idea where he'd been taken to. The Pharaoh was in Domino, and Marik was in Domino, and that something had been strong enough that Bakura had not wanted to be separated from Marik. Had he been in possession of a body, he would have destroyed the amateur thief and sent his soul to the Shadow Realm for what he'd done. But Bakura hadn't had a body, and so he'd been rather limited in what he was able to accomplish. He hadn't been able to accomplish much of anything at all. Without a host whose mind was accessible to him, there was very little he could do as just a spirit.
So he'd remained in his Ring and planned. Bakura had never been hopeful of anything. He'd always known that his path would be difficult, so he hadn't thought that the possibility for him to return to Domino in time for the city to still matter would exist. He planned different ways of killing the Pharaoh. But it had been difficult that time, because the something he had with Marik had kept him from forgetting the blonde. He spent more time thinking about Marik than he did the Pharaoh during his first four years locked in the Ring.
After those years, he didn't need to think about Marik any more. Marik found him. That something had been strong enough that, after the Ring had been stolen, Marik had trailed the thief who'd taken it and followed him and the Ring for four years until he'd held the gold in his hands. Bakura could remember that the warmth of Marik holding his ring was different from the warth of anyone else who'd held it. That warmth made the something grow before he was even aware of it. He realized that he didn't want to be separated from Marik. He realized that he didn't think he could be separated from Marik. Marik had become something that mattered to him as much as his revenge did, and the fact that the other male had spent four years tracking him down meant that Bakura mattered as well.
The next two years had been spent searching for a new host. He needed one around the same age as Marik. He did not want there to be a huge age gap between them. That made things difficult. In the end, he was not sure how appropriate his new host was, but Marik assured him that it did not matter. Bakura was Bakura regardless of the body he was in. That had made Bakura feel nice in a way he hadn't ever before.
After that, there had been no chance that he would leave Marik's side. The something bound them together strongly. He didn't even try to break it, and he couldn't forget about it either. Even though Marik's mind separated itself from reality more and more with each passing day, even though Bakura hated the way his host's bones protested every time he stood after sitting too long, Bakura wasn't going anywhere. He couldn't anymore. But that didn't mean he had to like it.
He despised it more than anything. He had never made any kind of promise to Marik that he would not leave his side, and he knew that on a good day the other male would understand if he did. Bakura was not human. Bakura had not been human for a very long time. He hated to see the weakness of human bodies and of human minds that broke so easily, and there could be no situation more abhorrent to him than the one he found himself in now. He wished that he could just leave, but Marik had somehow wormed his way into Bakura's mind and the spirit could not get him out.
He hated seeing what Marik had become of late. He hated that the man really didn't have the motivation to do anything on his own anymore. Bakura was no longer a lover so much as a caretaker. It would have been easier to do if he'd had a younger body, but he would not leave in search of one. Doing so might take time, and Marik could hurt himself while Bakura was gone.
But it wasn't just that. The something that kept him here exhibited a moronic sense of sentimentality and wished to remain in the same body. Marik had known it the longest, and they were close to the same age. There was a practical reason behind the decision as well, but it wasn't the foremost reason for not switching over to a new host. On his worst days, Marik couldn't even recognize him anymore. Bakura did not want to switch hosts and scare the other too much. The something told him that he did not want to risk the chance of Marik never again recognizing him.
It all would have been so much easier if Marik were like him. If Marik were like him, then none of this would have to matter, because they both could just find new hosts, and Marik's mind would have never had the chance to decay as it had now. Marik would have been just as perfect as he was when Bakura had first met him. It would be so easy if it were able to happen, but a part of Bakura thought that if things were like that and Marik was just the same as he, this something would never have happened. The only other person who was able to understand anything close to Bakura's life was the very man he wanted to kill. He didn't want Marik to have to die, but he didn't want to hate Marik either.
So he was stuck. He was stuck in this body, stuck taking care of Marik like he were a child, stuck being the only one of the two of them with a clear memory of how things used to be, stuck doing nothing with his time but waiting to die until Marik died first. He hoped that Marik died first. He didn't want to think about it, but the thought of dying before Marik unsettled him. The other male couldn't take care of himself without assistance anymore; he lacked the ability to do so. He had to be the first to die.
But Bakura didn't want that either. He didn't want to see Marik die. Marik was a part of his life and had been for over fifty years now. Marik was important to him. Even now, when Marik no longer knew what he was doing, or where he was half the time, Marik was still important. Marik would always be important. Hundreds of years after his body had decayed completely and only his bones were left, Bakura did not doubt that Marik would still be important to him. He didn't want to leave before the other, but he didn't want him to leave either.
It would have been better, Bakura thought, if they had just never met. He hated the days where Marik could not remember him, but even worse were the days that he could. The days when Bakura thought he could see a little bit of the old Marik in those lilac eyes. They had lost the majority of their shine and were glazed with daydreams way too much now, but they were still easily the most beautiful part of Marik, even now. He blinked himself when he realized those eyes were on him.
"Bakura," Marik said. He smiled. He was always smiling in that vague sort of unrealizing way. He smiled when he drifted. He smiled when he looked out the window. He smiled when he thought Bakura was the electrician. "You look different."
"Ryou's body died, remember?"
"Oh yes."
Except he didn't remember, not completely. He smiled and nodded like he did, but Bakura could see the near permanent confusion that resided in those eyes. Marik didn't remember anything anymore. On days like this he could remember a lot, but there were always parts that he couldn't. He hardly ever remembered that Bakura had found a new body a long time ago. It struck the spirit as the cruelest part of everything, because it was Marik's very insistence on helping him to find that new body that had made the something grow and kept Bakura here even now. Were he a human, he might have cried. All that did happen was for his scowl to deepen slightly.
"It's nice out today. We should go outside," Marik said. He was looking out the window again. Bakura did not respond. It was a stupid suggestion. He hated to move around in this old body more than he needed to, and the troubles Marik could get into out there were limitless. But more than that, Bakura did not know if Marik was talking to him or not. He had used the plural "we", but it meant nothing. More often than not Marik used the plural when talking to himself. Sometimes Bakura overheard him talking to the yami he had not had in years.
"Bakura," Marik said.
"Yes, Marik," Bakura said.
"Sometimes we think…" Bakura waited. He didn't think the sentence would be finished. It often wasn't. Sometimes the other just forgot his train of thought. Other times, like now, it was likely because something else had caught his attention.
He wished Marik would just die. He didn't like to see this any more than Marik would have liked to live it. Bakura knew what it was like to be locked inside your own mind. He found himself in that state more than he was ever really alive. When he'd first been sealed into the Ring, it had almost driven him crazy. But he'd had his revenge to cling to, and he'd grown used to the solitutde. He knew what it was like for Marik now, and he knew that Marik would have rather he be dead as well.
Sometimes he thought about killing Marik himself, but… he was never able to do it. He wanted to, and he knew that Marik would have wanted him to, but whenever he tried, the area where his heart may have been hurt, and the something tightened around him and he would always fall to his knees beside the bed and gasp and shudder. Marik would wake up then and either scream because he'd somehow gotten it into his mind that Bakura was his father, or he would carefully gather Bakura up in his arms and comfort him. It might have been nice if Marik knew who he was when he did it, but he usually did not. It left a bitter taste in Bakura's mouth and taunted him that he could not do what he should have been able to do.
"Bakura?" Marik asked.
"Yes, Marik."
"It's nice, isn't it?" Marik looked at him again and he smiled. His face was wrinkled and old and perpetually confused, but for a moment that smile was almost the grin he'd worn when he'd been young. It hurt.
"Yes, Marik. It's nice," Bakura said. He didn't know if Marik was talking about something outside, or the thought had had tried to complete and failed to. He didn't have the slightest clue what was going on inside Marik's head right now. He hadn't known for several years now. He hated this. There was nothing nice about it at all. There was only pain and hurt and rot, and he hated it. He hated to be human. He hated humans. He wanted his simple existence as a spirit back, but he did not know how many more years he would have to suffer through until he reached it. He wondered if this was a punishment for something. It was bullshit if it was, and bullshit if it wasn't. He didn't know a single thing, but he knew that this was not nice.
Okay. So. Important stuffs here about the last chapter. First, it will not be posted next week! You'll have to wait an extra week to see it. This is for a reason! Basically I want to thank/reward my constant readers/reviewers. So this is what we're going to do! You (my reviewers) are going to send me an idea of what you'd like to see in the next chapter! And then, no matter what it is and how crazy it may be, it will happen! I'm thinking it should be fun if a lot of people send ideas! Of course if you don't want to, you don't have to, but more is better!
Now before you all go crazy with ideas and stuff, first there are some restrictions on who is allowed to send ideas in. I appreciate all of my reviewers because you guys are the ones who make me keep updating even though I might get bored with a story and want to move on to something new, but I really appreciate the ones who week after week send me reviews and give me feedback, and these are the people I want to thank. So, you can only send me an idea if you've been a constant reviewer. This does not mean that you had to have reviewed like, every single chapter, because honestly, I don't think a single person has done that. If you've reviewed a few of them, then you are eligible! Now, if you feel like that isn't quite fair because hey, maybe you've only reviewed like two chapters, but they were really good reviews, then you are eligible as well! Basically I'm accepting ideas from people who haven't just reviewed saying "I like your story please update." Because I like hearing that, I do, but actual feedback is more important to me. So I don't mean any offense to anyone, but some people just will not be able to send in ideas. Sorry!
The period for sending ideas in will end next Friday. After that, I won't be accepting anything else because I'll need time to start actually writing the chapter. Unless your idea is like really super awesome, and then I may be able to find a spot to fit it in. So that's it then, please send your ideas! All ideas will be credited! Really though, I don't have anything actually planned for the next chapter besides this, so if I don't get anything I'm kind of screwed, and no one wants that. Feel pressured! But anyways, as always, please remember to review, and thank you!
