Chapter 5 "Bonded by blood."
Author's notes: OK, my Yami and me have worked out a deal. We'll work together on this chapter. Only because I kinda bribed her with pictures of Malik…those two are too much alike; it's really scary. Um, to Talia Ali, yes it is weird that they all moved in together, and um … how about we just say that Ryou's dad off on a long business trip? ^_^; I don't know. I'm praying everyone will just roll with the punches…that and I'm amazed no one's asked about what happened to Yugi's grandfather. I said he was living there, but not once did the guy show up! Heh…oh well, please review! This begins in 3rd person, because it's just easier that way to advance the plot. Please don't kill me for the ending of this chapter…
* * *
Bakura looked around un-surely as he entered the house behind Yami Malik. The house was sparsely furnished, and he wondered idly if he was going to sleep on some newspaper in the basement. Knowing Yami Malik's tendencies, it wasn't that far of a stretch. The house smelled of spices, and Bakura closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the smell of exotic flavours. 'Someone remind me why I did this again,' Bakura thought regretfully. "I suppose I should say thanks for inviting me."
"Think nothing of it, Bakura," Yami Malik's tone had softened, and Bakura raised an eyebrow. "And before you say it, yes you do have a room, not the floor." Yami Malik walked up the steps, followed closely by Bakura, who was still unsure of this entire situation. Yami Malik soon stopped at a room and opened it. "Here."
"No shackles? I'm surprised," Bakura said dryly, peering inside.
"The invitation was sincere, Bakura," Yami Malik replied, the soft tone still present. Suddenly, his light took over, and the harsh look that was in Yami Malik's eyes vanished, but still held a slight glimpse of determination. "I'll leave you for a moment. One of the help will come and get you for dinner." Malik turned around and left Bakura alone in the room.
Bakura took off his shoulder-pack, and glanced around, seeing a computer. He sat down, and turned it on. After waiting for everything to load, Ryou's yami, after learning all the technical stuff from his Aibou, checked his hotmail. He was surprised and angered to see an email from Yami. Curiously though, he clicked on it and read it.
Bakura,
I don't know where you are, so I figured I'd try this confounded contraption, and email you. Where are you? I don't remember what happened to cause you to not come home, but it's been past a reasonable time if you had gone out… I wouldn't have minded if you had gone out for a little with your friends, (that is, if you hadn't killed them already) but you didn't even tell your Aibou where you were going. Bakura, please come back.
You're mad at me, I can tell. But what did I do? Joey told me that he saw you leave with some guy with blonde hair. Why haven't you phoned, Bakura? I'm worried about you…I suppose I should stop rambling now. Please email me back…I want to know where you are…
Yami
Frowning, Bakura's fingers hovered over the 'reply' command. Something suddenly stopped him, and an old glint of bitterness flashed in his eyes. 'Why should I email him back? I don't have to respond to him like a little child. This is just like him, being a Pharaoh. But…I shouldn't have just left without telling someone where I was going. That's it I'm going to—' Just as Bakura's finger was about to press the 'reply' command, Malik entered.
"I want you to meet someone," Malik said, keeping his left hand on the doorknob. Bakura raised an eyebrow, but got up, turning off the computer, and walking over to Malik. "I figure it's best for you to meet him now then tomorrow and risk having him die by your lovely morning behaviour."
"And just how the hell do you know what I act like in the morning?" Bakura demanded, raising his eyebrow yet again.
Malik gave him a rare smile, "Because you act like me." Bakura's eyes narrowed a little at the mere thought of being compared to someone as off-kilter as Malik Ishtar. As he walked through the door, Malik said, "you're more like me than you know." His voice lowered, to a tone that Bakura was surprised to hear pain and suffering filter through, "we both were hurt and betrayed by that Pharaoh."
Bakura blinked a few times, his hazel eyes clouding with confusion. He studied the older boy's features; they were now creased with pain, and anger. For a brief moment, Bakura got a glimpse into the inner turmoil that racked the Ishtar heir. "Pull yourself together," Bakura found himself saying, trying to keep his tone normal. "God, you're falling apart, Ishtar." A smirk rose to his lips, a cross between a smile and a smirk, as Malik turned to him, giving Ryou's yami a scoff.
"He's waiting," Malik said finally, and led Bakura down to the living room, where a tall figure stood, wearing a dark purple cloak. The clothes, Bakura realised were Egyptian, and the presence felt like Malik's. "Rishid, this is the one I told you about." Bakura blinked. He'd been talked about? Uneasiness washed over the silver-haired tomb robber. "Bakura, this is…my most trusted henchmen, and my best friend—Rishid."
The man turned around and Bakura was slightly startled at the stunning calmness in Rishid's eyes. They had the same type of design as Malik's, but they held a fierce loyalty inside, and Bakura knew he wasn't dealing with just anyone. "So, you're Bakura," Rishid's tenor voice said, and Bakura nodded once. "Malik was right about you."
"Right about me in what context? Did he tell you I was a psychopath? Did he tell you that my life is now in shambles? Did he tell you that a Pharaoh is the focal point of it all?" Bakura suddenly blurted out, the anger suddenly rushing out of him. Malik blinked for a moment, not expecting such a violent reaction from Bakura. Rishid nodded to his master, and Malik left the room, whilst Bakura was forcing himself to calm down.
"You must calm yourself first of all," Rishid advised his voice still deep and powerful, but now a tone lighter. "I just want to converse with you, Bakura."
"Well then, converse away," Bakura said flippantly, folding his arms. Rishid pushed the hood of his cloak off, and Bakura stood steadfast, noting the many Egyptian hieroglyphics on Rishid's face, which mirrored the ones on Malik's back. "Are you in on this little conspiracy too?"
"What gives you the idea that there's a conspiracy?" Rishid asked, raising an eyebrow. "You tomb-robbers are a temperamental sort. Don't trust anyone, that had been your motto, correct Bakura?" Taking Bakura's silence as a sign to continue, Rishid said, "I sense a deep turmoil inside of you, Bakura. Not just what you're going through now, but what's been tormenting you all along."
"And just what would that b—" Bakura was abruptly cut off by a blunt object on a collision course with his head. A sick 'thud' was heard as Bakura's body hit the floor. Rishid silently picked up the inert form, and carried him to the basement. There, he lay the boy on a golden table, the room illuminated solely by candles. Rishid looked over at the table beside Bakura's, where Malik lay, his arm laying over a basin-like structure. Malik's arm was bleeding into a silver chalice. Working quickly, Rishid took off Bakura's shirts, and put his arm over his chest. Picking up a sharp dagger, Rishid held it up to the light, letting the blade glisten. The first henchman injected anaesthetic into Bakura, so he would stay unconscious.
Walking over to Bakura's right side, where his right arm was the one laying across his chest, Rishid turned the silver haired boy on his side, whilst two henchmen held him steady. Swiftly, Rishid slid the blade of the dagger across Bakura's previously flawless skin. With deadly precision, he carved a strange Egyptian hieroglyph that translated stood for 'bound for eternity'. He turned to a third henchman. "Hand me the chalice." The henchman nodded, and handed Rishid a silver chalice that held Malik's blood. Using a modified funnel, Rishid poured Malik's blood into the grove of the scar he had given Bakura. Reciting a chant in ancient Egyptian, Rishid said, "The ceremony is complete. They are bonded by blood. Get Master Ishtar and Bakura to their respective rooms."
* * *
As Bakura regained consciousness, he felt a sharp and searing pain in his right arm. He groaned and tried to sit up, only to have something push him back down. Bakura grunted in protest, but was too weak from the anaesthesia to do much about it. After a bit, Bakura managed to open his eyes, and when he did, he was surprised to see Malik, not his yami, tending to him. Malik took Bakura's hand and checked the bandage, gently putting the arm back at Bakura's side. "Why are you doing this?" Bakura managed, his voice sounding full of pain and fatigue.
"Because Yami won't," was Malik's swift reply. It was a sharp jab to Bakura's heart, but deep inside, like a trapped animal waiting to be freed; his soul was beginning to agree. Bakura noticed that there was a bandage on Malik's arm.
"What happened to you? Couldn't handle a kitchen knife?" Bakura teased, his hoarse tone giving the verbal jab no punch.
"It's no concern what happened to me. How do you feel?" Malik asked, noticing the blood seeping through Bakura's bandage in the pattern of the hieroglyph. Bakura gave a slight groan, sinking further into the bed. "I guess that answers my question." There was a long silence before Malik began to talk. "My father was killed when I was young, a few days after I had gone through the ceremony that put the markings on my back, which serve as the Pharaoh's memory. I was told that his death was the Pharaoh's wish. The Pharaoh had been trapped inside the Millennium Puzzle.
"Ever since that point in time, I felt an intense hatred of Yami Yugi. It was because of him that my father had to die, and for what?" Malik clenched his fist, ignoring the pain that shot through his body because of his sore arm. "Since then, I've wanted to make Yami feel the pain, feel the pain of losing someone close to him." He turned to Bakura. "He's done the same to you, hasn't he? He's hurt you badly, because in his mind he believes that everything centres around him."
"Shut up," Bakura protested weakly, "Yami isn't like that a—"
"Anymore?" Malik finished for Bakura, his eyebrow raised. "Are you so sure? He's taken away the most important thing anyone could ever take from you Bakura—he took your heart, and for a while, it may have seemed like all was well, but he's a Pharaoh. He still looks down upon you, and you know it."
Bakura was silenced for a moment; Malik's words hitting home. He thought about what had occurred between he and Yami earlier that day after school. It was almost a déjà vu of what happened all those millennia ago. 'Yami did mean all those things,' Bakura thought, clenching his left fist. 'Every single word was the truth! And you foolishly believed him. Did you honestly think that everything would be peachy keen because you thought he actually changed? He…'
"Hasn't changed one little bit," Malik's voice cut through Bakura's thoughts. "He hasn't changed at all, Bakura. If he had changed, he's quickly reverting back to the way he was before. Your love doesn't mean anything to him."
Bakura growled, his mind clearly believing everything Malik was telling him. Everything was making sense now. Everything now had a reason, if it didn't before, of why it occurred, especially Yami's change in behaviour. "I want nothing to do with that bastard anymore," Bakura said, his voice strong with conviction. "Absolutely nothing." Malik stood up and put a hand to Bakura's left arm. Giving a small assuring nod, he left the room, to leave the silver-haired yami alone with his thoughts.
* * *
It was a long weekend, and Malik, on the second day of this long weekend, was glad to see that Bakura was reverting quickly back to his old self. He had succeeded, and looked at his arm, where the same hieroglyph was carved, mixed with Bakura's blood. 'The ceremony was a success. Bakura and I are bonded by blood. We share emotions now, and my hatred for that Pharaoh will no doubt transfer to Bakura. But it won't be for a day more until the transfusion is complete.'
The doorbell rang, and Malik raised an eyebrow. Who would come here at this hour? He walked to the door and opened it, his eyes widening at who he found at the door. "Is Bakura here?" Yami demanded, his deep voice filled with worry. "You! You are…"
"Malik Ishtar," Malik said, nodding. "What do you want, Yami?"
"I have already told you what I want. Where is Bakura?" Yami repeated, clenching his fists. "I finally figured that you were the one that left with him. Where is he?!"
Malik was beginning to panic inside. This was not what he was expecting, or what he wanted. If Bakura saw Yami here, and put two and two together, with Yami's confusion and his sudden kindness to him, all was lost. He gritted his teeth and kept his hand gripped tightly on the doorknob. "Is it any of your business if he is here, Pharaoh? You seemed a little too eager to get one of your followers back."
"He's not my follower!" Yami burst out, "I love him!"
"Oh, really," Malik sneered, snorting a little. He put a hand on his hip and looked sceptically at the King of Games. Yami looked a cross between frantic and now angry at the mockery he was receiving at the hands of the Ishtar heir. "If you really loved him that much, why is he here instead of with you?"
Yami looked caught at that question. "I…I do not know! But that's why I'm here! I'm here to get some answers, and I don't trust you, Ishtar! Where is Bakura?" he demanded, the Millennium Puzzle glowing brightly. "Answer me!"
"I'm right here, Pharaoh," Bakura's voice, dripping with evil replied, as he stepped past a surprised Malik to stand on the second step, in front of Yami. Yami's eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly—this was a completely different Bakura. He was as Yami remembered in the Duellist Kingdom. "So you want to know where I was, eh? Couldn't handle the fact I wasn't right in your sight…that I was going to run off and misbehave? Is that it?" He folded his arm, careful of his bandaged right arm.
The King of Games' mouth opened and closed for a moment, not knowing how to answer the accusation. "I would never think of you that way Bakura! Who's been planting these seeds of suspicion in your head?"
"No one's planted any suspicion in my head but you, Yami," Bakura snapped, surprising the young Duellist. "I've been thinking these past few days. And I've come to one conclusion: it's about time you felt some pain." He flicked a card at Yami.
"Change of Heart…this is Ryou's favourite card," Yami said, peering at the duel monsters card. He looked up at Bakura confusedly. "What does this have to do with anything? Are you challenging me to a duel?"
Bakura's eyes narrowed. "I didn't think it was possible for someone to be so stupid! I've had a change of heart, so to speak, Yami. I've realised the one thing that you've been hiding from me. You still look down on me. And no one looks down on me. Not anymore."
Yami looked to be on the verge of tears, the emotional frustration was that high. "Bakura, after all we've been through, do you love me?" he asked, as if the entire world, and in his mind, it did, depended on Bakura's answer.
Bakura looked at Yami with a cold, murderous gaze. "I never did." Yami stepped back, his face showing how Bakura's words crushed him in an instant. Yami was about to turn and leave, when he noticed a strange pattern that the blood was seeping through on Bakura's right arm. Making a mental note to check it later, Yami turned his back. As Yami left in the shadows of the night, Bakura turned to Malik, who looked surprised still. "Isn't the way you wanted me, Malik?" he questioned.
Malik's lips curled into a smirk. "This is the way you were meant to be." Bakura moved up one step, and put his hand on the warm skin of Malik's shoulder. Moving closer still, Bakura pressed his lips to Malik's, the kiss intensifying quickly. Malik was drowning in the passion and fury of the kiss, and knew inside that all his work had paid off. 'We are bonded now…and forever. Blood does not fade. It seems I have the final laugh, Pharaoh.'
-TBC-
Author's notes: Um…not much to say but 'please don't kill me!'. Please review with your feedback, but no death-threats, okay? ^^; Chapter 3's revision will be done soon. But Bio's evil and my teacher's a moron. Until next time…same angst channel, same angst fic!