***I think I fixed the chapter error from yesterday. Sorry about that guys! (ff net is aweful. In A03 you just click edit and you can edit, but on here it's easier to gather the Items and summon Zorc than it is to edit something :/)***
The pallet I laid on was hard. It reminded me of those old days. Those always cold, always dark, always suffering, always locked in a tomb, old days of my childhood. Perhaps the ground would have been softer, but I wouldn't dare get on the dirt. The siafu, driver ants, usually didn't attack humans, but were capable of stripping a man to the bone if they came across one. Outside of the hut, I heard predators, a lion asserting his territory, hyenas hunting, but the noises weren't why I couldn't sleep.
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and stared at the photograph on the lock-screen. Ishizu and Rishid smiled at me from the back-lit screen. They were happy in that picture. It was on the boat as we sailed home from Battle City, and I smiled at the sight of them. After the lock-screen, my phone's background had another picture. Bakura, grainy and a little out of focus. I hacked into Kaiba's surveillance footage on his blimp and stole the image after Battle City. I was stupid, I knew, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted a memento. Whenever I struggled, whenever I felt like I couldn't win at losing and wanted to succumb to my old attitude, I'd stare at those photos. Ishizu. Rishid. Bakura. I'd stare at them and I'd remind myself that my only options in life were to succeed or to fail – quitting wasn't either of those; therefore, it wasn't an option.
After Yugi's Ceremonial Duel, I mourned. Not for the Pharaoh – for Bakura. I was sure Atem would enjoy Aaru while Bakura would be tossed to Ammit without a second thought. I prayed to Bastet, screamed, cursed, and damned Ma'at. How could she let the Pharaoh move on and let Bakura suffer oblivion? Where was the balance? The justice?
But what could I do? I didn't know what to do. Ishizu and Rishid sensed something was wrong, though I tried to hide it. Rishid suggested that I started to search for the path I needed to walk. I thought I was. I thought going back to Egypt was that path, but he shook his head 'no' at me. He insisted 'living normal' wasn't for me. But what could I do? I spent half my life worshiping the Pharaoh and the other half hating the Pharaoh and with him gone – there was nothing for me to aim for.
One day while drinking tea with my siblings, Ishizu told Rishid and I the story of Seto Kaiba, of how he took a company that created weapons and changed it into one that made games. She also mentioned the donations and charity work he did for orphans. Hearing the story I thought that, deep down, Kaiba didn't want anyone to become him – to have the kind of pain in their lives that forced him to become strong, but cold.
Like Bakura. Like me.
Then I had an epiphany. If he could help orphans, I could help villages; if he wanted to prevent another Seto, I would prevent another Kul Elna or another clan of tomb guardians; if he could convert a company created for war into one that manufactured games, I could transform a multi-billion dollar organized crime ring dealing with counterfeit trading cards into an organization focused on providing clean drinking water throughout Africa, expelling Western industry, preventing further corporate rape of indigenous resources, and above all else – educating the people in order to maintain any progress made. Not an easy task. I couldn't simply call a meeting of my former criminal constituents and announce my change of heart. No, some hedge companies needed to be bought out by others, some needed to be given up as loses (the corruption running too deep for me to salvage them), and some needed to be overtaken. More than a few "accidents" happened in the process, but I was always careful about who I dealt with and who I forfeited against because I never wanted to pay for my redemption with the blood of my siblings.
As I designed my new programs, funded them, and set my plans into action, an extraordinary phenomenon occurred.
I found myself.
My true self.
When stripped of everything – childhood and past mistakes – and left nothing but the core essence of myself, I realized that I loved digging wells and helping the farmers with irrigation ditches. I loved teaching children how to read and calculate equations. I loved learning new dialects to communicate with villagers on a personal level. I could have stayed behind a desk, managed the companies from a distance, but that part bored me. I made Rishid act as C.E.O. While I ran around with our core team to different countries. I rolled up my sleeves and participated instead of delegated. It made me happy, so happy that it hurt.
Then they came back. All of them. Pharaoh. Thief. Shadow.
And I was scared.
Not of the Pharaoh, I'd made my peace with him, and not of my shadow, I was too strong for him to influence me like before.
I was afraid to see Bakura.
I smashed my emotional walls to rubble while digging ditches and teaching children. I stripped myself of all armor and found my true strength. I was afraid because If I saw Bakura I would hold him and I wouldn't be able to let go. I would tell him the truth – that I loved him. Not stupid fairy-tale love, not let's live happily ever after love. It was different. It was more like the way certain atoms just fit together to form a molecule. I understood him, his rage, his thirst for vengeance. I understood the person he could have been if his life hadn't been tragic (like mine).
But if I explained any of that, he would laugh at me and call me a fucking retard.
It was impossible for me to pretend to be the same person I was in Battle City. I couldn't smirk at him and fuck him and help him scheme up a new plan to obtain vengeance against Atem. That Marik died when Ra attacked us. I was someone else, risen from the ashes Ra left behind after he burned us. I loved Bakura, but I knew I wasn't who he wanted anymore. He wouldn't want me. I liked helping people, and doing good things. Bakura thought helping others was nonsense. He wouldn't want me. It hurt to think of it, but ignoring it wouldn't make it less true or less painful.
Regardless, when I heard his voice – that dark, sardonic, velvety voice – I was ready to leap into the air and fly to Domino myself – fuck a plane, I could have glided all the way to Japan by willpower alone. More than anything I wanted to see him, even if to be rejected once he realized I was useless to him. And I would have done just that.
But I couldn't leave the village.
A prestigious company from Britain was trying to obtain mining rights near the village in which I slept. The aftermath would ruin the land, pollute the water, and destroy the local culture and the lives of the villagers. This wasn't digging a well. This wasn't something I could leave for a intern to deal with, or even Rishid. Bakura had the ill luck of calling me days after I'd begun a strategy game between my companies and the opposing British company – a game of lobbying, flattery, and political bribes to win the mining rights of the land. I had to win to protect the people who trusted me. No matter how badly I wanted to see Bakura – even if he would call me a fucking idiot – I couldn't.
Because quitting this fight wasn't an option.