Author's notes:
Disclaimer: FC and I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. If we did, you would see Pegasus as the
main character. *nods* Mmm hmm...
Wah! I realized how little I had in this chapter after reading FC's section (you should
give yourself a pat on the back, FC-chan! That was awesome :) ! Though, XD, I was
wondering about the name "Bison". Ahh.. the good old days of Street Fighter.
FC: -_-;; At least I have the creativity to make up names.
Zoo: Blame it all on my short-term memory ^^V.
FC: Anyway, you better start your fic - you're taking up too much space!
Zoo: YES! On to the- *stops* Waiiit a moment. What am I doing here? You're not
spying on me are you? *suspicious eyes*
FC: *sweatdrop*
Warnings: Sexual abuse, mental abuse, swearing, minor bleeding. Due to Snare-
chan's request, I have spared you mortals from (too much) Ryou-angst.
NOTE: "Former darkwolf" = "outcast", used to term Bakura's human form.
**************************
He was running in an endless plain of emerald-green grass, feeling the wind whistle
against his ears. The gentle grass tickled his paws; the fresh morning scent stimulated
his every senses.
At long last, the sloped grass came to an abrupt end, edging into a crest overlooking a
sea of sparkling-white sand and fathomless water.
Now, he gazed at the sight, breathing in exhilarated breaths as he simply took
in all the beauty around him. Such wonder, such magnificence - it was nothing he had
seen before.
But dreams are meaningless and false, and they themselves represent nothing
but unattainable desire.
********************************
"In darkness and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart -"
- "Tintern Abbey", William Wordsworth
*********************************
Chapter 6 - Regression and Transferral
At first, he could only hear a low, vibrating buzzing in his ears. It was a faint
sound, often fluctuating and receding, but always constant. Then, the hum began to
sharpen into soft, distinguishable scrapes, and finally a full symphony of sound.
A symphony of silence.
Bakura's eyes snapped open. He was momentarily blinded by the sudden rush
of images all yammering simultaneous bits of information to his mind. And then,
everything once again dulled down and came to a standstill.
He was in a strange type of shelter, a boxed, flat room of luridly white walls
and oddly contorted pieces of furniture. He himself was situated on an unnaturally
soft bed, covered in a layer of foreign pale blue fabric. Gingerly, he placed a
trembling hand on the fabric, stroking it softly with the back of his hand to admire the
delicate texture. It was cool to the touch and oddly calming to gaze at.
But now, his past emotions were returning to him, mind no longer lost in a rut
of vacancy. Bakura narrowed his dark-brown eyes, once again radiating his in-born
bristling, defensive air. Where the hell was he?
There was a flat, wooden panel some meters away from him that could have
been a possible exit, had it not been so plainly blocked. A golden knob protruded
curiously from the left center of the panel, which Bakura deducted to be either a
contraption or a decoration of sorts.
The golden knob on the panel suddenly began to turn on its own. Startled,
Bakura shot from his bed, wincing slightly at the pain from his protesting muscles. He
assumed an offensive stance close to the panel, ready to attack the strange, moving
knob.
That was, he would have attacked, if the large panel hadn't suddenly swept
open. Bakura momentarily blinked in confusion, senses reeling just slightly. The
panel had opened - there was an exit!
At least, Bakura thought it was an exit. For, seated right between the open
panel and the exit was his own reflection.
Bakura was confused. It was impossible! He was staring at a living, breathing
reflection of himself! He could feel the breath of the other person rising and falling
slightly, and could see the eyes rapidly dilating in panic.
And then, the former darkwolf's confusion melded into anger. How dare this-
this _human_ mock him by assuming his form! He turned his angry, livid eyes
towards the doppelganger, addressing the other for the first time, in a gruff,
demanding voice.
"Who are you?" Bakura's fixated his eyes on the single figure, boring down
with a fierce, almost livid ferocity. His breathing felt tight and constricted, chest
heaving in laborious gasps. And then, there was the pain. Most of it was centered
around his legs and torso, though there were still the etched scars running down his
back and arms. Strangely enough, there was an absence of pain on his back - Bakura
knew that it was not because his wound had healed but rather, because the damage
was beyond any comprehendible pain, even beyond his brain's ability to register.
The doppelganger was finally beginning to stir from his shocked and visibly
frightened strength, stuttering a few incoherent gasps before finally speaking. "I-I-I s-
saw that y-you were h-hurt and..." He began, face drained of colour.
-"I asked for your name, human!" Bakura shouted, breaking into a snarl. He
spat the last word in livid disgust, staring at the other with a mixture of contempt and
hatred. How dare this weak, puny, vile, pathetic human assume his guise? What irony
was this that stripped him of his last piece of dignity?
The doppelganger boy cringed under Bakura's command, expression falling
hastily to the ground as if he could will away the former darkwolf by simply not
looking at them. His soft white bangs curled around his face and shrouded his once-
bright eyes as his lip began to tremble softly. "I-I'm..." He paused, daring to look up
once more, as if confirming that Bakura was not only a momentary nightmare. "My
name is Ryou."
Ryou.
Darkwolf ears are incredibly acute, able to pick up even the slightest
difference in sound texture and frequency. Even in their human forms, Darkwolves
had superior hearing, far better than the average human.
And yet, there is a great difference between hearing in your ears and hearing
in your mind. For, Bakura's ears clearly heard the whimper expressed as a foreign
name, but his mind translated it to be something else. Something that his pained
emotions screamed and clawed at, wishing to devour it and ease their pitiless comfort.
"Ryou" Bakura's mouth repeated, though it felt detached from his thoughts.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Ryou... Ryou..... Ryu!"
Finally, his logic and reasoning faltered, making way for his blind,
unexplainable emotion. A wave of grief, hatred, and agony washed over his features,
moulding them into a demonic grimace of insanity. His mind had finally snapped,
unable to bridge the gap between present reality and past failures. The grudges and
desire for revenge flooded his every thought.
A split second later, Bakura had Ryou pinned against the wall, clenching the
boy's shirt by the collar and forcing the other to stare at him face to face. The former
Darkwolf bore his cold brown eyes into the other's pale chestnut ones.
Ryou didn't even have time to whimper before Bakura moved, the former
Darkwolf wrapping his hands against the other's pale neck, tilting the boy's soft chin.
Bakura then pressed his lips firmly against the other's, pinching Ryou's chin with his
fingers to forcefully squeeze open the mouth. He felt the boy's lips part in a shocked
gasp and roughly thrust his tongue into Ryou's mouth, purposely tracing every
groove, every mark, every tooth with each harsh stroke. Now, Bakura could feel the
other belatedly react, trying to push the former darkwolf away, body thrashing feebly.
Bakura could feel the other's mouth try to repel the foreign feeling, trying to force
away the violation of intimacy. But most of all, the former Darkwolf could feel the
other trying to block away the pain and growing despair.
And Bakura loved every single moment of it.
At last, the former Darkwolf pulled away, hands never leaving the other's
neck. He was close enough to literally touch Ryou's nose with his tongue; to smell the
taste of his own saliva left staining the shocked boy's lips.
And before Ryou could begin to protest, Bakura was on the boy again, lips
hungrily enveloping the others, tasting the tension and growing fear with livid
pleasure. His hands began moving towards the boy's shirt, pulling the buttons apart
with an unceremonious flick of his wrist, listening in satisfaction as the beads of
buttons scattered and swirled on the floor.
Now, Ryou was growing desperate, redoubling his efforts, even trying to
scream. That proved to be a fatal mistake as Bakura choked the boy's voice with his
tongue, cutting off the other's supply for oxygen and purposely constricting the
needed gasps of air. The former Darkwolf let his hands linger on the boy's soft body,
feeling the fragile, gentle bones yield under him like lamb's skin.
Slowly, Bakura parted, letting Ryou struggle and work for each moment of
freedom, enjoying the power and control from the movement. It was exhilarating,
how a single moment of pleasure could fulfill his gaping maw of pain and bridge his
agony of self-failure. The stains and tarnishes still filled his mind, his battered and
abused body still evident. But now, he was no longer was the victim. He was in
control.
Ryou whimpered softly, gazing at Bakura with overflowing tear-brimmed
eyes. They trickled down his pale white skin, splashing down his cheeks and
collecting in dark droplets on his clothing.
The boy looked pathetic. That much Bakura had to admit. A twinge of pain
and then guilt shot through the former Darkwolf's thoughts. The boy was an exact
puppet of Bakura's own agony, the expression a mirror to the former darkwolf's
pained conflict. It was a sad face, vainly trying to appear confident and controlled
while breaking apart ever so surely inside, bit by bit.
There was no mistaking it. It wasn't just the face, nor the hair and physical
appearance. Ryou was Bakura. The spiritual part of Bakura that the former darkwolf
refused to harness. It was the part that Bakura denied himself, forcing himself to rise
on top of the pain instead of yielding in quite, pained, acquiescence like he should.
Ryou was Bakura's pain. The boy was Bakura's internal conflict, the tattered
remains of his ragged, abused soul.
And Bakura laughed. He threw his head back and laughed in a throaty roar,
full of contempt, anger, and disgust. Yes, he was angry at himself, for being so weak,
for being so vulnerable to those who tortured him. He hated himself for who he had
become, for what had happened to him, and most of all, for allowing such events to
occur.
The former darkwolf sneered, mouth curving into a contemptuous smile. He
never left his darkened gaze off Ryou, instead, glaring accusedly down at the other.
He was staring at to himself.
He was staring at his failure, his agonized past.
**********************************
Why?
Of all the frightened, trembling, confused, terrified questions whirling in his
mind, only this one remained consistent.
Why was this person so angry at him? What had he done?
Ryou shivered as he felt the other's cold fingers travel possessively down his
spine. He was paralysed; unable to move or speak from sheer, unadulterated fear. And
even through that blinding fear, that question still rang clear in his mind.
Why?
Ryou remembered treading down the alleyway, almost stepping into a messy,
bloody pool housing the strange person's tattered body. The white-haired boy had felt
sympathy for this injured person, taking him home to nurse the wounds. A part of
Ryou wondered how anyone could recover so fast, and another at why this person
looked an uncanny amount like him.
It was past the time for wondering. The other had him in a firm grip, forcing
Ryou down to his knees. The boy could feel the other's breath tremble over him, misty
steam trailing down his neck and sending shivers along his spine. The other was over
him now, towering above the boy, face plastered in an enraged, maniacal snarl.
A cold hand shot downwards, toying at Ryou's jeans before forcefully
unzipping it apart. Fingers, clawed together, clenched the boy's, daring the other to
protest.
Ryou gasped, choking out another muffled cry. The hand squeezed harder,
applying a painful pressure. It was a violating, horrible feeling, to be stripped of all
dignity and used as a pleasure toy. And Ryou had thought that he was doing the other
a favour by bringing him in.
Now, the pain was climaxing, surging to an unbearable point. The other had
his lips firmly pressed against Ryou's neck, tasting the soft white skin with utter
delight. A low, predatorial growl escaped the other's throat, causing Ryou to shiver
and then recoil. The white-haired boy was immediately restrained with a single glare
from the other.
"P-please. S-stop it." Ryou moaned, even as the other flexed his finger so
firmly wrapped around his. He could also feel the other's teeth bite softly into his skin,
drawing blood with their incredibly sharp, serrated edges. A trickle of crimson liquid
seeped slowly down boy's neck, mixing with his long, snowy-white hair.
The other grinned. "Make me." It was a sadistic, demonic smile, a smile
robbed of true pleasure, hiding a strange, hidden emotion underneath.
"Make me." The other repeated again, before biting his teeth down harder into
the nape of Ryou's neck. A rough tongue brushed against the exposed cuts, causing
Ryou to gasp from the stinging pain.
And then, Ryou screamed.
Or at least, he tried to. He tried to shout, to call for help, to save himself from
this threat. Two seconds of fresh air, and he found himself choking, the other's
calloused hand now cupped tightly around his mouth, allowing only the faintest
muffled retort. The other was practically on top of the kneeling boy, wrapping his
arms possessively around Ryou.
The hand in his jeans had withdrawn some, seeking satisfaction in digging its
sharp nails into Ryou's soft, exposed, underbelly. More points of blood began pooling
around the fingertips, five identical bruises spreading from each point.
Sudden, blinding, pain.
The feeling struck Ryou even before he recognized it. The other had sunk his
teeth hard into Ryou's flesh. It burned intensely along his neck and collarbone like
liquid fire, stinging with sharp precision. A dark-crimson pool of blood and soft
tissue became exposed underneath, allowing the other to lap up the excess blood with
his coarse, rough, tongue.
There was no denying it. The other was enjoying every moment that Ryou
struggled and tried to scream, the other was enjoying every tear forced from the boy's
eyes.
And still, even in this state of blind pain and agony, Ryou could only ask one
question. He could only come up with one question.
Why?
****************************************
Blood had never tasted so good before. It was the sweet, virgin blood of the
untainted, and because of that, Bakura loved it more. Yet, he was no vampire. It was
not the blood he lusted for. It was the fear created by the blood, the fear the other so
clearly radiated.
The fear was intoxicating. Especially when Bakura created it. He, for once,
was _creating_ the fear, not receiving it. He had power. He had control.
At long last, the former darkwolf withdrew his position, removing his mouth
from the mess of skin and dying blood. He heard the other involuntarily hiss as the
wound became exposed to the stinging, stagnant air, and he enjoyed it.
But, there was something else disturbing him. The Millennium Ring - it was
tugging as his chest, filling it was a strange sense of heaviness. He could feel the
restraining power of the Ring begin to manifest itself once again into his body, trying
to render his mind into submission.
No! He couldn't let the Ring control him! He was in control!
With an angry cry, he grabbed the Millennium Ring, trying to wrench it off
his chest. The item wouldn't budge, string firmly contracted, sticking against his
body as if it were a part of his skin.
Again and again he tried, to no success. Enraged, he thrashed, hurling his body
against the wall, trying to detach his Ring through blind, unreasonable force. He was
now battering his own body, once again opening the newly-healed wounds, some of
the new skin along his back splitting to spread a fine, crimson trail along his clothing.
Clothing that he would never realize was not his.
Hands pulling the cord, the former Darkwolf yanked heavily, half-choking
himself, though he seemed not to notice. A demonic scowl was still plastered on his
once-beautiful face. He shifted positions, snarling, hurling himself against any barrier-
-and was stopped.
Someone, other than the Millennium Ring, was restraining him.
It had been more of shock than power that had stopped Bakura. Slowly, the
former darkwolf turned his incredulous gaze towards the source. Ryou - the pathetic,
helpless, mortal boy _Ryou_ - had stopped him.
And for a single, impulsive moment, Ryou dared himself to stare back into
those deathly accusing eyes.
"Stop it." Ryou said, putting as much emphasis as possible into his trembling
words. "Stop hurting yourself."
Bakura snarled, breaking from the grasp. He turned to Ryou, bleeding
profusely, heaving in exhausted, half-enraged gasps. "How _dare_ you." The former
darkwolf began, hand extended to deliver the other a stinging blow. Yet, even as he
struck the boy across the cheek, he could feel the difference in response. There was a
stiff, defiant rebuke in the other's frame, so unlike before. And those soft eyes - there
was something in them, something that made Bakura involuntarily shudder and recoil
his hand.
"Something went wrong for you, didn't it?" Ryou asked, in the same tone
someone would whisper to a broken-winged bird.
"Fuck you." Bakura responded, lashing out with another blow. He hit Ryou
again and again, each angry blow rebounding and calling for the next.
The other barely winced.
Face sadly bruised, body pitifully trickling with blood, Ryou looked back at
the other, unmoving. The boy brought a pale hand to the other's damaged, pain-
wracked face, soothing the tense muscles with soft fingers.
And now, the former darkwolf found that he was the one who was absolutely
paralysed. He couldn't move as Ryou continued to stroke his face softly, bringing a
hand to touch Bakura's wounds. The soothing fingers were replaced by a pair of soft
lips, gingerly brushing against the cuts. They soon met the former darkwolf's own
mouth, interlocking just briefly for one abashed moment before quickly retreating
away.
Ryou broke the touch, doleful brown eyes staring at the others. The soft white
hair surrounding his face made him seem angelic, almost cherub-like.
"What's your name?" He finally whispered, voice gentler still.
Bakura stared. Half of him wanted to scream out again, but the other half had
been subdued to a point of confusion. This boy - what was he doing? It hurt - it hurt
so badly, but-
"Bakura." The word escaped his lips, as if someone else had said it. And then,
the moment was shattered, the former darkwolf breaking the gaze to look, almost
ashamedly down at the ground.
But not before he noticed an identical Millennium Ring hanging by Ryou's
chest. It shone and glittered some, but seemed rather subdued and peaceful. His own
Ring shone back.
******************************************
Bakura watched dully as the other bustled back and forth, the boy occasionally
grabbing random items from shelves or hidden doors in a rather agitated state.
Frankly, the darkwolf couldn't care less; he was an outcast, alone and stranded in this
strange environment. It didn't really matter what happened to him now. Even as Ryou
stumbled on the large wad of bloodied sheets he was carrying, falling to the ground
with an ungainly thump, Bakura failed to notice. The former darkwolf continued his
blank, listless gaze.
Ryou muttered a few distilled versions of what would be profane words,
rubbing his rump while glowering at the swathes of sheets. He then stood up, picking
each sprawled sheet from the floor once again to rush downstairs.
Seconds later, the boy re-emerged into the bathroom, glancing momentarily at
the sulking Bakura sitting on the floor. Hesitantly, he offered a newly-obtained set of
towels to the other, slightly afraid, as if offering food to a tiger.
The former darkwolf did not notice, not even when the towels were waved up
and down his blank line of vision. It wasn't until Ryou prodded Bakura that the former
darkwolf broke from his reverie, glaring slightly at the boy before grabbing the
blankets rather brusquely.
Ryou shrugged, ignoring the action. The white-haired boy then slowly closed
the bathroom door, slipping behind Bakura to turn on the shower. A rush of water
escaped the nozzle, shooting out in a spurt of liquid heat and steam.
Bakura started at the sound. He turned towards the source, and found himself
staring at a highly unusual contraption. It was a chrome mouth, and it was spurting
what seemed like an endless supply of _hot_ water.
"What is that?" The former darkwolf suddenly said, staring at the showerhead
with an expression bordering confusion and awe.
For a moment, Ryou didn't respond, his mind not registering the fact that the
other was actually talking to him. At last, the white-haired boy meekly answered. "It's
called a shower. You turn up the knobs on the sides, and it can release either hot or
cold water."
Bakura snorted. "I can see that. But what is it for?"
Ryou goggled. What type of person didn't know what a shower was or did?
Then again, Bakura seemed barely human, always surrounded by a strange
supernatural feeling, as if the other was something _else_. "Showers help clean your
body. You step under the shower and the water will wash all the dirt from your skin."
"Why would I need one?" Bakura curled his lip in disdain. "Water only
washes away the external wounds. It does nothing to heal the internal ones."
The white-haired boy raised a questioning eyebrow at the last comment,
though he was hesitant to ask. Deciding that the other had been friendly
enough, Ryou bit his tongue, walking towards the shower to test the water with his
hand. It was slightly hot, but soothing to the touch.
"Just try it." Ryou suggested. "The shower might not be able to do much for
all your... wounds, but it does help subdue them."
For a moment, it looked like Bakura was about to lose his temper then and
there. There was a strangled look on the former darkwolf's face, hinting any emotion
bordering irritation and anger. Fortunately, Bakura simply growled, glaring at the
fountain of water before suddenly plunging into the midst of it. The warm water hit
his back immediately, causing the former darkwolf to hiss in surprise and pain.
As much as he had gone through and endured, Bakura was still Bakura, the
same impatient, stubborn, and reckless individual he had been before his ordeal.
Instead of backing away from the stunning sensation of pain and shock, the darkwolf
stood firm, stubbornly embracing the feeling and letting the water pummel his back.
Only moments later, the throbbing pain died to a slow ache, the hot water wrapping
around Bakura's body and soothing his skin. Bakura closed his eyes, tense muscles
gradually relaxing from the pummelling sensation. It was as if he was covered in a
blanket of warmth, now blissfully oblivious to the world around him.
The former darkwolf, arched his back, sliding his face into the trajectory of
water, letting the liquid slide down his neck and chest. Even fully clothed, the water
was able to cleanse and transfer its warmth to every part of his body. Brown and
scarlet stains dribbled from his wet fabric and hair, slowly clearing a trail of pure
colour against the splotches of ochre.
Ryou smiled softly, watching the other literally purr under the shower. He still
had his head of dry towels in his arms. He would need them soon. The hot water
would not last forever.
*************************************
"So," Ryou began, breaking the long moment of silence, "Where did you
come from?"
Bakura started slightly in reaction to the sound. He had changed into a new set
of clothing again, a pristine navy-blue shirt complete with matching jeans, somewhat
too tight for comfort. The former darkwolf seemed to have a problem with buttons, so
the shirt was parted in the front, exposing his lithe and slightly-muscular chest. Some
of the scars on the skin were still evident, though the hot water had washed away the
stains and grime.
The former darkwolf grunted slightly before answering. "Don't know."
Silence again.
"Did you come from another country?" Ryou persisted, still trying to be
friendly.
Bakura glared at the other. What the hell was a 'country'? "I told you, I'm not
from-" He stopped suddenly. How did he get here anyway?
"I see." Ryou finally said. An impulsive question was playing in his mind,
burning with curiousity. At first, it had seemed inappropriate, but soon, it became the
only explanation. The white-haired boy finally decided to bite the bullet. "You're not
human, are you?"
The former darkwolf stared. He literally goggled at the boy, trying to figure
out if there was something in his own appearance that gave away his identity. Not that
it mattered. He was an exile; he was a darkwolf no longer. "No, I'm not human."
The inevitable question came. "Then, what are you?"
It was an innocent enough question, but Bakura immediately snarled, eyes
flashing angrily. His mussed-up hair bristled in a threatening stance. "Fuck off."
Ryou's eyes widened. Perhaps it was better not to ask. The white-haired boy
quickly held his tongue, deciding that he would be safer spending the remainder of the
day in silence.
Therefore, it surprised the boy yet again when Bakura started speaking.
"Where did you get your Millennium Ring?"
A puzzled expression crossed Ryou's features, finally dawning to
understanding. The Millennium Ring had to be the medallion that Bakura had been
trying to remove, though the boy's own "Ring" was easily detachable.
"Ah," Ryou faltered, choosing his words carefully lest he unwittingly offend
the other. "My father gave it to me, as a present."
Bakura's eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't lie to me. He couldn't have just
found it." No, the Millennium Ring was far more powerful than that; even its replica
had to have a reason for existing.
"I-it's the truth." Ryou stuttered, voice faltering under the other's glare.
The anger in Bakura's eyes was replaced by a look of defeat. Why not? Why
couldn't the Millennium Ring just be found? Maybe, in this world, the Ring had a
different purpose, just like how Ryou, an almost identical replica of Bakura, was an entirely different individual underneath.
And then, Bakura hit sudden inspiration. "Ryou," He began slowly, "Did you
notice anything _special_ about your Millennium Ring?" A plan was working in his
mind, far from innocent, almost unnaturally unorthodox. If his Ring had negative
Power, then Ryou's Ring, being an exact opposite, must have positive Magick. And
with Magick came a whole new chapter of possibilities. In fact, combine the Magick
with his Darkwolf capabilities...
"N-no." Ryou stuttered, disliking Bakura's suddenly smug expression. "Not
any that I know of."
Bakura nearly growled with impatience. Of course the boy wouldn't know!
Humans, especially mortal humans, were blind to the uses of Magick. He shouldn't
have been surprised.
But now, as Bakura glanced once more at the other Millennium Ring, hanging
from Ryou's neck, glistening like a gold-pleated rainbow, a strange feeling of both
hope and excitement overwhelmed his thoughts.
He could see it now, with his sharp darkwolf senses. Ryou's Ring didn't have
just Magick. It had the ability of creating a portal between the Human and Darkwolf
realms.
The former darkwolf brushed an experimental tongue over his teeth in
anticipation. Yes, revenge would be sweet.
************************************
It had taken Bakura a while to adjust to his strange surroundings.
He once again surveyed his surroundings, glancing at everything with a rather
distilled version of awe.
Large, block like structures, which Ryou had dubbed "skyscrapers" shot
upwards at a magnificent height, until they seemed to be touching the sky. The entire
area was covered in hard, rock-like substances, save a few patches of grass, usually
seen in front of squat, square structures, apparently where each human lived. Bakura
felt like he had stuck his face into a geometric assemble. Everything was rectangular,
square, circular, or arched with perfected symmetry. On occasion, a few trees
protruded from the unyielding ground (sidewalk, Ryou said), though they were a
motley collection; leaves a sickly yellow-green.
It was imprinted upon Darkwolf instinct to survey or investigate one's
surroundings before adjusting to them. Bakura would rather freeze in Hell than live in
this damned place, though he didn't want to put himself at a disadvantage doing
otherwise. Besides, the humans might have information about his task at hand.
Bakura paced around aimlessly, though he could have sworn that he had
passed that same lamp twice already. He furrowed his brows, thinking hard about the
connection between the two Millennium Rings. Ryou's Ring had the ability to
command powerful Magick, but the boy himself possessed no Magick to trigger the
command. Which meant that Bakura was at a stalemate.
The more Bakura thought of it, the angrier he got. He wanted power. He
wanted to be able to shift back into his natural Darkwolf form, freed from his
Millennium Ring's Power-draining spell, freed from his weakness. And most of all, he
wanted revenge.
"Excuse me."
Bakura whirled around to challenge the voice. He met the foreign face of some
human stranger, a harried female trailing a pestering human-cub behind her. The
small child was jumping up and down in a frenzy of energy, screaming in an
unnaturally shrill voice.
"WHAT?" Bakura snarled, annoyed by his interruption. He was tempted to
strangle the screaming child then and there, though he carefully restrained himself,
lest he fall out of Ryou's "favour". After all, the former Darkwolf needed the boy to
cooperate in order to carry out his plans.
The woman huffed. "How rude, you insolent cur! I just wanted to ask you
directions." And with that, she stormed away, still holding the child in one hand.
"Bitch." Bakura muttered, glaring at the pair of humans. It was
amazing how loudly human-cubs could scream; really, such a waste of energy.
Wait!
Bakura's Millennium Ring absorbed Power. And there was nothing special
about power - it was just a concentrated form of energy. The former darkwolf's mind
began racing again. If he could provide his own Ring with enough energy - Power - to
be momentarily satiated, then he could override its curse! Of course, the curse would
only be lifted until his Ring ran out of Power again. Yet, it was better than nothing.
Bakura licked his lips in anticipation, running his tongue experimentally
against his canines. Yes, he would start here. And once he had triggered the full use of
both Millennium Rings, feeding his own Ring enough Power while fuelling the other
with his Magick, then, he would pay a nice visit back to the Shadow World. Of
course, there would still be some technical problems about Ryou, since the other Ring
wouldn't even budge without its host. It sickened Bakura to think about a _human_
meaning that much to him. The boy was a walking weakness for the former Darkwolf.
He would sort that out later. Right now, what really mattered was driving
away the negative Power of his Millennium Ring - to satiate its demand. Bakura
grinned.
Yes, humans _indeed_ had a lot of energy, more than they could ever need. Tonight,
he would go soul-stealing....
**********************************
"W-where are we going?" Ryou stuttered. The boy couldn't believe that
Bakura had dragged him all the way here. It was a good thing that his father had gone
out on an expedition in Egypt, or else, he would have been severely punished. Then
again, if his father were here, none of this would have ever happened.
"Somewhere." Again, Bakura had a smug reply to his voice. The former
darkwolf wouldn't let the boy spoil his mood; he had spent most of the trek ignoring
the protests of the boy.
Bakura had discovered something quite unusual about the two Millennium
Rings. He could sense Ryou's presence through his own Ring, and had a good feeling
that Ryou could do the same. As pathetic as it sounded, it was almost like the Rings
had forced a bond or connection between the two.
The sky was pitch-black, a familiar shadowy layer that spread across the entire
area. Strange, artificial lights glimmered slightly overhead, illuminating the streets in
a random assortment of pale orange-yellow. A full moon hung in the sky,
accompanied by dotted specks of stars.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Bakura's keen senses heard it before Ryou could even guess. The former
Darkwolf broke into a sadistic grin, baring his teeth just slightly. Now, the hunt
began.
"Bakura." Ryou persisted, voice meek and subdued. "I-I think we should go
back. It's dangerous here."
'Yes', Bakura thought to himself, careful to conceal his expression. 'It _is_
dangerous. For them.' The boy looked so helpless, that the former Darkwolf was
tempted for a moment to try and reassure him. No- he could not think like that. Ryou
was carrion, only an extra piece of luggage.
Yet, Bakura had another reason for bringing Ryou, one entirely unrelated to
the Magick of the boy's Ring. Ryou was weak, pathetic, and most of all, he was a
_human_. A human in the Shadow Realm was a dead one.
Bakura glanced slightly at the full moon overhead. It could only be done once
per full Moon, and by only the most desperate, power-hungry Darkwolves. Now, the
former Darkwolf's eyes trailed back onto Ryou's figure. Once he had stopped his
curse, once he regained his Darkwolf self, then, he would carry it out. Bakura's grin
grew wider as Ryou looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.
"Stay here, Ryou." Bakura commanded, amusing himself with the fear
prevalent in the boy's expression. "I'm going to get...something."
"Y-you'll come back, won't you?" Ryou whispered, slightly terrified.
Pathetic. Such a clinging dependency. Yet, Bakura thought with a slightly
pained twinge, it was all that he had. "Of course." The former Darkwolf tried his best
to hide the contempt soaking into his voice. "And then, we can go back." Right. After
something else.
Ryou gave a meek nod of consent, watching the former Darkwolf slink, and
then disappear, into the dark shadows. The boy gulped slightly, feeling exposed in his
lone state. He closed his eyes, and tried to make himself as inconspicious as possible.
***************************************
Kazuhiro Ishizuka was a busy man. He had spent the entire day phoning
people, attending conferences, making sure that things simply got done. The man
groaned slightly, stretching his back. He had refused a ride from his colleague simply
for the simple fact: he was getting fat.
Now, Kazuhiro re-adjusted his tie in mid-step, shifting the position of his
briefcase just slightly. His mind pondered over the day's events, and he suddenly
realized that he had forgotten to phone his wife. Immediately, the middle-aged man's
chubby fingers strayed to his cell phone.
He was about to dial the number, when a chilling shudder shot through his
body, stopping him dead in his tracks. It was as if a pair of lethal, venomous eyes
were watching him from the darkness. Slowly, the businessman turned around,
gulping loudly to face the source.
It was a youth, leaning against a lamppost. The light reflected at an odd angle,
so that everything but the youth was cast in a flickering orange glow. Only the eyes of
this strange person reflected under the light, a startling amber-brown, gleaming
predatorily.
Kazuhiro shook his head. It was just another one of those teenage punks, and
probably a drug addict, to be out this late at night. The businessman ignored the figure
and continued to walk.
That is, until the figure approached him.
Kazuhiro put down his cell phone. "What do you want?" The man exclaimed
rather irritatedly. There was something about this teen's eyes that slightly unnerved
the man.
The teen was getting startlingly close, now intruding into Kazuhiro's self-
conscious bubble of privacy. The businessman noted with startled eyes that this teen
had demonic _silver_ hair. What type of punk would dye his hair silver? Kazuhiro
started to back away as the teen neared him until they were literally face-to-face.
Without warning, the white-haired youth grabbed Kazuhiro by the shirt. The
businessman shuddered, suddenly paralysed on the spot. Those eyes...
"What do I want?" The silver-haired youth repeated, tone perfectly smooth.
His controlled, placid face suddenly broke into a sadistic grin. "Your soul."
Bakura's Millennium Ring flashed erratically as it fed on the energies of this
hapless man. There was a chaotic whirl of light surrounding both figures before
finally coming to a silent standstill.
Bakura dropped the figure of the lifeless man to the ground, a satisfied smile
playing on his lips.
************************************************
Life was about power. It was about those who controlled, and those who were
controlled. Bakura rested his hand on the cord of his ring, fingers brushing over its
slightly warm surface.
And he was in control. For now.
The former Darkwolf retraced his steps back towards the other. Now, Bakura
could feel his Darkwolf Magick returning back into his body, coursing through his
veins, no longer confined by his Millennium Ring. Yes, his plan had gone well.
He could see Ryou, still looking around aimlessly. The boy jumped as he felt
Bakura's presence, giving a faint sigh of relief.
"C-can we leave now?" Ryou whispered softly.
Bakura could have laughed long and hard. The boy thought he was going home.
The former Darkwolf would have fun shattering Ryou's misconception. Delightful.
"Come here." Bakura commanded. He was amused by the boy's obedience.
Gently, Bakura placed his hand around Ryou's neck, sliding it slightly so that it
caressed the boy's cheek. "I want to show you something."
Ryou was petrified. The look on Bakura's eyes was hypnotic; he was frozen on
the spot. It was as if nothing else mattered save the other's commands. The white-haired
boy tried to struggle, to back away, but his body would not obey.
The former Darkwolf chuckled, seeing the fear in the boy's eyes. "You can't
stop yourself, can you?" He murmured, mind tingling in delight. "You are mine."
It was a possessive statement, said with perfect furiousity. Ryou knew what
was coming next. He mentally shuddered as Bakura neared him, and could feel the
other's elated breath pressing against his skin.
Slowly at first, Bakura leaned over, locking contact with the boy's lips. There
was no resistance; they had done this before, and it felt right. Yet, this time, instead of
slipping his tongue in to demand the other's access, Bakura let his lips slowly slide
from Ryou's mouth to his chin. The former Darkwolf brushed his tongue along the
boy's neck, hand holding the boy in a tight grip to prevent the other from even
thinking of escaping.
Ryou moaned slightly. He couldn't help it. There was a taste of perfect,
sensual pleasure in every stroke of the other's tongue, a fiery feeling of lust radiating
around the other's presence. The white-haired boy felt himself unconsciously leaning
towards the other's touch, unable to resist.
Bakura was careful not to lose his concentration, continuing to slide his mouth
down Ryou's soft, perfect skin until it was at the base of the boy's neck. He hungrily
unbuttoned the top portion of Ryou's shirt, exposing part of the boy's chest and
shoulders. The Darkwolf could felt the slight aberration in the skin; this was the first
cut, the first scar he had inflicted on the boy. Bakura's tongue pinpointed the exact
spot before he acted, suddenly digging his sharpened canines into the boy's flesh. He
could feel the other gasp in pain, trying to shrink away, but the former Darkwolf's
firm hands prevented such actions. He sunk his teeth down harder until they touched
part of Ryou's collarbone, allowing the blood to dribble and cascade down the boy's
gleaming-white chest. Some of the liquid trickled into Bakura' mouth, and he tasted it
with an experimental tongue. Ryou was jerking convulsively now, gasping in pure
agony. Sweat collected around the boy's eyes, and his shirt clung on to his skin,
slightly damp.
Finally, Bakura withdrew his teeth, cleaning them with a brush of his tongue.
He watched the Ryou relax slightly, still holding onto the boy's arms in restraint.
The full moon glistened overhead, resting its gaze over the two figures.
Bakura could feel the aroused excitement within his Darkwolf senses, seeking to roam
free in the night under its influence. He suppressed the urge - there was still this ritual
to complete.
Bakura raised his arm, looking at his scarred skin. And then, he brought his
forearm towards his mouth, sinking his teeth down into his own flesh. Crimson blood
swirled around the new wound, some escaping to drip onto the ground. With a
satisfied smirk, the former Darkwolf examined his bloodied forearm, bringing it
towards Ryou's neck. In a sudden flex of movement, Bakura pressed his cut against
Ryou's bleeding one, so that both exposed wounds collided in a splurge of scarlet. For
a moment, the two foreign bloods swirled around each other tentatively before finally
creeping into the other's, mixing and then entering the other's body.
Human blood meant nothing to Bakura. It was a harmless, useless substance,
like drinking water, or breathing air. Yet, the properties of Darkwolf blood were
infamous. Darkwolves lived incredibly long lifespans, undergoing a consistent pattern
of death and rebirth. Darkwolf blood also had amazing curative properties, if exposed
in the right conditions, explaining the immediate healing rate Darkwolves experienced
when shifting from their wolf forms to their human counterparts.
Yet, most of all, Darkwolf blood contained the shape-shifting Magick. It did
not mean anything to other Darkwolves, or Vampires, the latter having their own
specific genes. Yet, to humans, who had no exposure to the supernatural, it was
exceedingly powerful. A drop of Darkwolf blood had the potential to change them
forever.
A full moon, and the Darkwolf's will. Bakura had both of these to ensure the
ritual. Ryou was now unnaturally calm in Bakura's arms, the boy's eyes glazed over,
face expressionless. The silver-haired outcast removed his forearm, hissing slightly
from the slight pain. Bakura then licked off the scattered blood from his wound, and,
after some reluctant debate, did the same to Ryou's. The other was unconscious now,
limp form resting against Bakura's chest so that his chin was propped on the
Darkwolf's shoulder. The Millennium Ring around Ryou's neck began to flicker, and
suddenly flare up in light, as if awoken from a deep sleep.
Which could be true, in a sense. A pity Ryou was unconscious - Bakura would
have liked to test his theory now. The former Darkwolf could already see some subtle
changes taking place: slightly sharpened teeth in the mimicry of canines, sleek white
fur running just slightly along Ryou's arms. Most of all, he could feel the Darkwolf
Magick running along in the boy's blood, Magick that would strengthen Ryou's
physical strength beyond any human's capability.
Bakura's Millennium Ring prevented Ryou from becoming a complete Darkwolf, since
Bakura himself could only infest his Magick intermittently. Thus, Ryou would only be
able to shift during certain intervals; still pathetically human most of the time.
Bakura would be patient. Give or take a few more days, the silver-haired
outcast would return back to the Shadow Realm. There was plenty of Power and Magick
in the Shadow Realm - definately more than needed. Then, Ryou would no longer be a problem, and then, he would finally extract his revenge.
The silver-haired outcast closed his eyes, calling within his once-forgotten
Magick. He allowed it once more to come alive, mingling with his body, becoming
part of him. Slowly at first, skin sprouted fur, hind legs readjusting, backbone
lengthening into a plumed tail. Ryou was still slung over his back, in a half-lying
position, head pressed against one of Bakura's pointed ears.
Now fully in wolven form, Bakura trotted off, careful not to let his "luggage"
fall. This strange city smelt like metal and acid, rotting with putrid scents that wanted
to make the silver-furred Darkwolf gag. Bakura lifted his muzzle, looking around the
abandoned streets with a slight grin of satisfaction. He could feel the influence of the
moon against his figure, the soft beams bathing his fur a glistening shade of platinum-
silver.
A single, wavering cry shot through the once-silent city. There was no sorrow
nor pity in its tone.
This time, it was a cry of tribute. And even when the tone died away, its echo
of vengeful promise remained.
***************************************
End notes:
Zoo: YEAH! I'm done! This chapter only took me... about a month!
Eevee muse: *rolls eyes* Good thing that you only do the even chapters.
FC: Well, good news everybody! It looks like people actually like our fic!
*A moment of silence ensues, followed by katakana rolling in the background
spelling out "HWOOOOOOOOOO~~~"*
Zoo: *blink blink* FC, what have you been drinking?
FC: I'm serious! We actually have reviews!
Flareon muse: You haven't been reviewing under different pen names have you, FC?
*suspicious eyes*
FC: *sobs* Why are you so mean to me? There are actually people who enjoy this fic!
And I would like to thank them all for reviewing. *hands reviewers various
Yuugi/Yami vampire and Ryou/Y.Bakura darkwolf plushies.*
Zoo: *stares* I'm in awe.
Eevee muse: Yes, me too. Where does FC get those plushies anyway?
Zoo: *facefault* Not that! I mean, I actually have fans? *big teary eyes* I feel so
loved! I'm actually recognized for my hard work!
Flareon muse: *aside to the Eevee muse* I think they're just here for the vampires.
Eevee muse: *aside to Flareon muse* Oh well. At least it'll keep her preoccupied.
FC: *oblivious to it all* ^_^ Well, read and review, and I'll promise a nice chappy
next time!
Disclaimer: FC and I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. If we did, you would see Pegasus as the
main character. *nods* Mmm hmm...
Wah! I realized how little I had in this chapter after reading FC's section (you should
give yourself a pat on the back, FC-chan! That was awesome :) ! Though, XD, I was
wondering about the name "Bison". Ahh.. the good old days of Street Fighter.
FC: -_-;; At least I have the creativity to make up names.
Zoo: Blame it all on my short-term memory ^^V.
FC: Anyway, you better start your fic - you're taking up too much space!
Zoo: YES! On to the- *stops* Waiiit a moment. What am I doing here? You're not
spying on me are you? *suspicious eyes*
FC: *sweatdrop*
Warnings: Sexual abuse, mental abuse, swearing, minor bleeding. Due to Snare-
chan's request, I have spared you mortals from (too much) Ryou-angst.
NOTE: "Former darkwolf" = "outcast", used to term Bakura's human form.
**************************
He was running in an endless plain of emerald-green grass, feeling the wind whistle
against his ears. The gentle grass tickled his paws; the fresh morning scent stimulated
his every senses.
At long last, the sloped grass came to an abrupt end, edging into a crest overlooking a
sea of sparkling-white sand and fathomless water.
Now, he gazed at the sight, breathing in exhilarated breaths as he simply took
in all the beauty around him. Such wonder, such magnificence - it was nothing he had
seen before.
But dreams are meaningless and false, and they themselves represent nothing
but unattainable desire.
********************************
"In darkness and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart -"
- "Tintern Abbey", William Wordsworth
*********************************
Chapter 6 - Regression and Transferral
At first, he could only hear a low, vibrating buzzing in his ears. It was a faint
sound, often fluctuating and receding, but always constant. Then, the hum began to
sharpen into soft, distinguishable scrapes, and finally a full symphony of sound.
A symphony of silence.
Bakura's eyes snapped open. He was momentarily blinded by the sudden rush
of images all yammering simultaneous bits of information to his mind. And then,
everything once again dulled down and came to a standstill.
He was in a strange type of shelter, a boxed, flat room of luridly white walls
and oddly contorted pieces of furniture. He himself was situated on an unnaturally
soft bed, covered in a layer of foreign pale blue fabric. Gingerly, he placed a
trembling hand on the fabric, stroking it softly with the back of his hand to admire the
delicate texture. It was cool to the touch and oddly calming to gaze at.
But now, his past emotions were returning to him, mind no longer lost in a rut
of vacancy. Bakura narrowed his dark-brown eyes, once again radiating his in-born
bristling, defensive air. Where the hell was he?
There was a flat, wooden panel some meters away from him that could have
been a possible exit, had it not been so plainly blocked. A golden knob protruded
curiously from the left center of the panel, which Bakura deducted to be either a
contraption or a decoration of sorts.
The golden knob on the panel suddenly began to turn on its own. Startled,
Bakura shot from his bed, wincing slightly at the pain from his protesting muscles. He
assumed an offensive stance close to the panel, ready to attack the strange, moving
knob.
That was, he would have attacked, if the large panel hadn't suddenly swept
open. Bakura momentarily blinked in confusion, senses reeling just slightly. The
panel had opened - there was an exit!
At least, Bakura thought it was an exit. For, seated right between the open
panel and the exit was his own reflection.
Bakura was confused. It was impossible! He was staring at a living, breathing
reflection of himself! He could feel the breath of the other person rising and falling
slightly, and could see the eyes rapidly dilating in panic.
And then, the former darkwolf's confusion melded into anger. How dare this-
this _human_ mock him by assuming his form! He turned his angry, livid eyes
towards the doppelganger, addressing the other for the first time, in a gruff,
demanding voice.
"Who are you?" Bakura's fixated his eyes on the single figure, boring down
with a fierce, almost livid ferocity. His breathing felt tight and constricted, chest
heaving in laborious gasps. And then, there was the pain. Most of it was centered
around his legs and torso, though there were still the etched scars running down his
back and arms. Strangely enough, there was an absence of pain on his back - Bakura
knew that it was not because his wound had healed but rather, because the damage
was beyond any comprehendible pain, even beyond his brain's ability to register.
The doppelganger was finally beginning to stir from his shocked and visibly
frightened strength, stuttering a few incoherent gasps before finally speaking. "I-I-I s-
saw that y-you were h-hurt and..." He began, face drained of colour.
-"I asked for your name, human!" Bakura shouted, breaking into a snarl. He
spat the last word in livid disgust, staring at the other with a mixture of contempt and
hatred. How dare this weak, puny, vile, pathetic human assume his guise? What irony
was this that stripped him of his last piece of dignity?
The doppelganger boy cringed under Bakura's command, expression falling
hastily to the ground as if he could will away the former darkwolf by simply not
looking at them. His soft white bangs curled around his face and shrouded his once-
bright eyes as his lip began to tremble softly. "I-I'm..." He paused, daring to look up
once more, as if confirming that Bakura was not only a momentary nightmare. "My
name is Ryou."
Ryou.
Darkwolf ears are incredibly acute, able to pick up even the slightest
difference in sound texture and frequency. Even in their human forms, Darkwolves
had superior hearing, far better than the average human.
And yet, there is a great difference between hearing in your ears and hearing
in your mind. For, Bakura's ears clearly heard the whimper expressed as a foreign
name, but his mind translated it to be something else. Something that his pained
emotions screamed and clawed at, wishing to devour it and ease their pitiless comfort.
"Ryou" Bakura's mouth repeated, though it felt detached from his thoughts.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Ryou... Ryou..... Ryu!"
Finally, his logic and reasoning faltered, making way for his blind,
unexplainable emotion. A wave of grief, hatred, and agony washed over his features,
moulding them into a demonic grimace of insanity. His mind had finally snapped,
unable to bridge the gap between present reality and past failures. The grudges and
desire for revenge flooded his every thought.
A split second later, Bakura had Ryou pinned against the wall, clenching the
boy's shirt by the collar and forcing the other to stare at him face to face. The former
Darkwolf bore his cold brown eyes into the other's pale chestnut ones.
Ryou didn't even have time to whimper before Bakura moved, the former
Darkwolf wrapping his hands against the other's pale neck, tilting the boy's soft chin.
Bakura then pressed his lips firmly against the other's, pinching Ryou's chin with his
fingers to forcefully squeeze open the mouth. He felt the boy's lips part in a shocked
gasp and roughly thrust his tongue into Ryou's mouth, purposely tracing every
groove, every mark, every tooth with each harsh stroke. Now, Bakura could feel the
other belatedly react, trying to push the former darkwolf away, body thrashing feebly.
Bakura could feel the other's mouth try to repel the foreign feeling, trying to force
away the violation of intimacy. But most of all, the former Darkwolf could feel the
other trying to block away the pain and growing despair.
And Bakura loved every single moment of it.
At last, the former Darkwolf pulled away, hands never leaving the other's
neck. He was close enough to literally touch Ryou's nose with his tongue; to smell the
taste of his own saliva left staining the shocked boy's lips.
And before Ryou could begin to protest, Bakura was on the boy again, lips
hungrily enveloping the others, tasting the tension and growing fear with livid
pleasure. His hands began moving towards the boy's shirt, pulling the buttons apart
with an unceremonious flick of his wrist, listening in satisfaction as the beads of
buttons scattered and swirled on the floor.
Now, Ryou was growing desperate, redoubling his efforts, even trying to
scream. That proved to be a fatal mistake as Bakura choked the boy's voice with his
tongue, cutting off the other's supply for oxygen and purposely constricting the
needed gasps of air. The former Darkwolf let his hands linger on the boy's soft body,
feeling the fragile, gentle bones yield under him like lamb's skin.
Slowly, Bakura parted, letting Ryou struggle and work for each moment of
freedom, enjoying the power and control from the movement. It was exhilarating,
how a single moment of pleasure could fulfill his gaping maw of pain and bridge his
agony of self-failure. The stains and tarnishes still filled his mind, his battered and
abused body still evident. But now, he was no longer was the victim. He was in
control.
Ryou whimpered softly, gazing at Bakura with overflowing tear-brimmed
eyes. They trickled down his pale white skin, splashing down his cheeks and
collecting in dark droplets on his clothing.
The boy looked pathetic. That much Bakura had to admit. A twinge of pain
and then guilt shot through the former Darkwolf's thoughts. The boy was an exact
puppet of Bakura's own agony, the expression a mirror to the former darkwolf's
pained conflict. It was a sad face, vainly trying to appear confident and controlled
while breaking apart ever so surely inside, bit by bit.
There was no mistaking it. It wasn't just the face, nor the hair and physical
appearance. Ryou was Bakura. The spiritual part of Bakura that the former darkwolf
refused to harness. It was the part that Bakura denied himself, forcing himself to rise
on top of the pain instead of yielding in quite, pained, acquiescence like he should.
Ryou was Bakura's pain. The boy was Bakura's internal conflict, the tattered
remains of his ragged, abused soul.
And Bakura laughed. He threw his head back and laughed in a throaty roar,
full of contempt, anger, and disgust. Yes, he was angry at himself, for being so weak,
for being so vulnerable to those who tortured him. He hated himself for who he had
become, for what had happened to him, and most of all, for allowing such events to
occur.
The former darkwolf sneered, mouth curving into a contemptuous smile. He
never left his darkened gaze off Ryou, instead, glaring accusedly down at the other.
He was staring at to himself.
He was staring at his failure, his agonized past.
**********************************
Why?
Of all the frightened, trembling, confused, terrified questions whirling in his
mind, only this one remained consistent.
Why was this person so angry at him? What had he done?
Ryou shivered as he felt the other's cold fingers travel possessively down his
spine. He was paralysed; unable to move or speak from sheer, unadulterated fear. And
even through that blinding fear, that question still rang clear in his mind.
Why?
Ryou remembered treading down the alleyway, almost stepping into a messy,
bloody pool housing the strange person's tattered body. The white-haired boy had felt
sympathy for this injured person, taking him home to nurse the wounds. A part of
Ryou wondered how anyone could recover so fast, and another at why this person
looked an uncanny amount like him.
It was past the time for wondering. The other had him in a firm grip, forcing
Ryou down to his knees. The boy could feel the other's breath tremble over him, misty
steam trailing down his neck and sending shivers along his spine. The other was over
him now, towering above the boy, face plastered in an enraged, maniacal snarl.
A cold hand shot downwards, toying at Ryou's jeans before forcefully
unzipping it apart. Fingers, clawed together, clenched the boy's, daring the other to
protest.
Ryou gasped, choking out another muffled cry. The hand squeezed harder,
applying a painful pressure. It was a violating, horrible feeling, to be stripped of all
dignity and used as a pleasure toy. And Ryou had thought that he was doing the other
a favour by bringing him in.
Now, the pain was climaxing, surging to an unbearable point. The other had
his lips firmly pressed against Ryou's neck, tasting the soft white skin with utter
delight. A low, predatorial growl escaped the other's throat, causing Ryou to shiver
and then recoil. The white-haired boy was immediately restrained with a single glare
from the other.
"P-please. S-stop it." Ryou moaned, even as the other flexed his finger so
firmly wrapped around his. He could also feel the other's teeth bite softly into his skin,
drawing blood with their incredibly sharp, serrated edges. A trickle of crimson liquid
seeped slowly down boy's neck, mixing with his long, snowy-white hair.
The other grinned. "Make me." It was a sadistic, demonic smile, a smile
robbed of true pleasure, hiding a strange, hidden emotion underneath.
"Make me." The other repeated again, before biting his teeth down harder into
the nape of Ryou's neck. A rough tongue brushed against the exposed cuts, causing
Ryou to gasp from the stinging pain.
And then, Ryou screamed.
Or at least, he tried to. He tried to shout, to call for help, to save himself from
this threat. Two seconds of fresh air, and he found himself choking, the other's
calloused hand now cupped tightly around his mouth, allowing only the faintest
muffled retort. The other was practically on top of the kneeling boy, wrapping his
arms possessively around Ryou.
The hand in his jeans had withdrawn some, seeking satisfaction in digging its
sharp nails into Ryou's soft, exposed, underbelly. More points of blood began pooling
around the fingertips, five identical bruises spreading from each point.
Sudden, blinding, pain.
The feeling struck Ryou even before he recognized it. The other had sunk his
teeth hard into Ryou's flesh. It burned intensely along his neck and collarbone like
liquid fire, stinging with sharp precision. A dark-crimson pool of blood and soft
tissue became exposed underneath, allowing the other to lap up the excess blood with
his coarse, rough, tongue.
There was no denying it. The other was enjoying every moment that Ryou
struggled and tried to scream, the other was enjoying every tear forced from the boy's
eyes.
And still, even in this state of blind pain and agony, Ryou could only ask one
question. He could only come up with one question.
Why?
****************************************
Blood had never tasted so good before. It was the sweet, virgin blood of the
untainted, and because of that, Bakura loved it more. Yet, he was no vampire. It was
not the blood he lusted for. It was the fear created by the blood, the fear the other so
clearly radiated.
The fear was intoxicating. Especially when Bakura created it. He, for once,
was _creating_ the fear, not receiving it. He had power. He had control.
At long last, the former darkwolf withdrew his position, removing his mouth
from the mess of skin and dying blood. He heard the other involuntarily hiss as the
wound became exposed to the stinging, stagnant air, and he enjoyed it.
But, there was something else disturbing him. The Millennium Ring - it was
tugging as his chest, filling it was a strange sense of heaviness. He could feel the
restraining power of the Ring begin to manifest itself once again into his body, trying
to render his mind into submission.
No! He couldn't let the Ring control him! He was in control!
With an angry cry, he grabbed the Millennium Ring, trying to wrench it off
his chest. The item wouldn't budge, string firmly contracted, sticking against his
body as if it were a part of his skin.
Again and again he tried, to no success. Enraged, he thrashed, hurling his body
against the wall, trying to detach his Ring through blind, unreasonable force. He was
now battering his own body, once again opening the newly-healed wounds, some of
the new skin along his back splitting to spread a fine, crimson trail along his clothing.
Clothing that he would never realize was not his.
Hands pulling the cord, the former Darkwolf yanked heavily, half-choking
himself, though he seemed not to notice. A demonic scowl was still plastered on his
once-beautiful face. He shifted positions, snarling, hurling himself against any barrier-
-and was stopped.
Someone, other than the Millennium Ring, was restraining him.
It had been more of shock than power that had stopped Bakura. Slowly, the
former darkwolf turned his incredulous gaze towards the source. Ryou - the pathetic,
helpless, mortal boy _Ryou_ - had stopped him.
And for a single, impulsive moment, Ryou dared himself to stare back into
those deathly accusing eyes.
"Stop it." Ryou said, putting as much emphasis as possible into his trembling
words. "Stop hurting yourself."
Bakura snarled, breaking from the grasp. He turned to Ryou, bleeding
profusely, heaving in exhausted, half-enraged gasps. "How _dare_ you." The former
darkwolf began, hand extended to deliver the other a stinging blow. Yet, even as he
struck the boy across the cheek, he could feel the difference in response. There was a
stiff, defiant rebuke in the other's frame, so unlike before. And those soft eyes - there
was something in them, something that made Bakura involuntarily shudder and recoil
his hand.
"Something went wrong for you, didn't it?" Ryou asked, in the same tone
someone would whisper to a broken-winged bird.
"Fuck you." Bakura responded, lashing out with another blow. He hit Ryou
again and again, each angry blow rebounding and calling for the next.
The other barely winced.
Face sadly bruised, body pitifully trickling with blood, Ryou looked back at
the other, unmoving. The boy brought a pale hand to the other's damaged, pain-
wracked face, soothing the tense muscles with soft fingers.
And now, the former darkwolf found that he was the one who was absolutely
paralysed. He couldn't move as Ryou continued to stroke his face softly, bringing a
hand to touch Bakura's wounds. The soothing fingers were replaced by a pair of soft
lips, gingerly brushing against the cuts. They soon met the former darkwolf's own
mouth, interlocking just briefly for one abashed moment before quickly retreating
away.
Ryou broke the touch, doleful brown eyes staring at the others. The soft white
hair surrounding his face made him seem angelic, almost cherub-like.
"What's your name?" He finally whispered, voice gentler still.
Bakura stared. Half of him wanted to scream out again, but the other half had
been subdued to a point of confusion. This boy - what was he doing? It hurt - it hurt
so badly, but-
"Bakura." The word escaped his lips, as if someone else had said it. And then,
the moment was shattered, the former darkwolf breaking the gaze to look, almost
ashamedly down at the ground.
But not before he noticed an identical Millennium Ring hanging by Ryou's
chest. It shone and glittered some, but seemed rather subdued and peaceful. His own
Ring shone back.
******************************************
Bakura watched dully as the other bustled back and forth, the boy occasionally
grabbing random items from shelves or hidden doors in a rather agitated state.
Frankly, the darkwolf couldn't care less; he was an outcast, alone and stranded in this
strange environment. It didn't really matter what happened to him now. Even as Ryou
stumbled on the large wad of bloodied sheets he was carrying, falling to the ground
with an ungainly thump, Bakura failed to notice. The former darkwolf continued his
blank, listless gaze.
Ryou muttered a few distilled versions of what would be profane words,
rubbing his rump while glowering at the swathes of sheets. He then stood up, picking
each sprawled sheet from the floor once again to rush downstairs.
Seconds later, the boy re-emerged into the bathroom, glancing momentarily at
the sulking Bakura sitting on the floor. Hesitantly, he offered a newly-obtained set of
towels to the other, slightly afraid, as if offering food to a tiger.
The former darkwolf did not notice, not even when the towels were waved up
and down his blank line of vision. It wasn't until Ryou prodded Bakura that the former
darkwolf broke from his reverie, glaring slightly at the boy before grabbing the
blankets rather brusquely.
Ryou shrugged, ignoring the action. The white-haired boy then slowly closed
the bathroom door, slipping behind Bakura to turn on the shower. A rush of water
escaped the nozzle, shooting out in a spurt of liquid heat and steam.
Bakura started at the sound. He turned towards the source, and found himself
staring at a highly unusual contraption. It was a chrome mouth, and it was spurting
what seemed like an endless supply of _hot_ water.
"What is that?" The former darkwolf suddenly said, staring at the showerhead
with an expression bordering confusion and awe.
For a moment, Ryou didn't respond, his mind not registering the fact that the
other was actually talking to him. At last, the white-haired boy meekly answered. "It's
called a shower. You turn up the knobs on the sides, and it can release either hot or
cold water."
Bakura snorted. "I can see that. But what is it for?"
Ryou goggled. What type of person didn't know what a shower was or did?
Then again, Bakura seemed barely human, always surrounded by a strange
supernatural feeling, as if the other was something _else_. "Showers help clean your
body. You step under the shower and the water will wash all the dirt from your skin."
"Why would I need one?" Bakura curled his lip in disdain. "Water only
washes away the external wounds. It does nothing to heal the internal ones."
The white-haired boy raised a questioning eyebrow at the last comment,
though he was hesitant to ask. Deciding that the other had been friendly
enough, Ryou bit his tongue, walking towards the shower to test the water with his
hand. It was slightly hot, but soothing to the touch.
"Just try it." Ryou suggested. "The shower might not be able to do much for
all your... wounds, but it does help subdue them."
For a moment, it looked like Bakura was about to lose his temper then and
there. There was a strangled look on the former darkwolf's face, hinting any emotion
bordering irritation and anger. Fortunately, Bakura simply growled, glaring at the
fountain of water before suddenly plunging into the midst of it. The warm water hit
his back immediately, causing the former darkwolf to hiss in surprise and pain.
As much as he had gone through and endured, Bakura was still Bakura, the
same impatient, stubborn, and reckless individual he had been before his ordeal.
Instead of backing away from the stunning sensation of pain and shock, the darkwolf
stood firm, stubbornly embracing the feeling and letting the water pummel his back.
Only moments later, the throbbing pain died to a slow ache, the hot water wrapping
around Bakura's body and soothing his skin. Bakura closed his eyes, tense muscles
gradually relaxing from the pummelling sensation. It was as if he was covered in a
blanket of warmth, now blissfully oblivious to the world around him.
The former darkwolf, arched his back, sliding his face into the trajectory of
water, letting the liquid slide down his neck and chest. Even fully clothed, the water
was able to cleanse and transfer its warmth to every part of his body. Brown and
scarlet stains dribbled from his wet fabric and hair, slowly clearing a trail of pure
colour against the splotches of ochre.
Ryou smiled softly, watching the other literally purr under the shower. He still
had his head of dry towels in his arms. He would need them soon. The hot water
would not last forever.
*************************************
"So," Ryou began, breaking the long moment of silence, "Where did you
come from?"
Bakura started slightly in reaction to the sound. He had changed into a new set
of clothing again, a pristine navy-blue shirt complete with matching jeans, somewhat
too tight for comfort. The former darkwolf seemed to have a problem with buttons, so
the shirt was parted in the front, exposing his lithe and slightly-muscular chest. Some
of the scars on the skin were still evident, though the hot water had washed away the
stains and grime.
The former darkwolf grunted slightly before answering. "Don't know."
Silence again.
"Did you come from another country?" Ryou persisted, still trying to be
friendly.
Bakura glared at the other. What the hell was a 'country'? "I told you, I'm not
from-" He stopped suddenly. How did he get here anyway?
"I see." Ryou finally said. An impulsive question was playing in his mind,
burning with curiousity. At first, it had seemed inappropriate, but soon, it became the
only explanation. The white-haired boy finally decided to bite the bullet. "You're not
human, are you?"
The former darkwolf stared. He literally goggled at the boy, trying to figure
out if there was something in his own appearance that gave away his identity. Not that
it mattered. He was an exile; he was a darkwolf no longer. "No, I'm not human."
The inevitable question came. "Then, what are you?"
It was an innocent enough question, but Bakura immediately snarled, eyes
flashing angrily. His mussed-up hair bristled in a threatening stance. "Fuck off."
Ryou's eyes widened. Perhaps it was better not to ask. The white-haired boy
quickly held his tongue, deciding that he would be safer spending the remainder of the
day in silence.
Therefore, it surprised the boy yet again when Bakura started speaking.
"Where did you get your Millennium Ring?"
A puzzled expression crossed Ryou's features, finally dawning to
understanding. The Millennium Ring had to be the medallion that Bakura had been
trying to remove, though the boy's own "Ring" was easily detachable.
"Ah," Ryou faltered, choosing his words carefully lest he unwittingly offend
the other. "My father gave it to me, as a present."
Bakura's eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't lie to me. He couldn't have just
found it." No, the Millennium Ring was far more powerful than that; even its replica
had to have a reason for existing.
"I-it's the truth." Ryou stuttered, voice faltering under the other's glare.
The anger in Bakura's eyes was replaced by a look of defeat. Why not? Why
couldn't the Millennium Ring just be found? Maybe, in this world, the Ring had a
different purpose, just like how Ryou, an almost identical replica of Bakura, was an entirely different individual underneath.
And then, Bakura hit sudden inspiration. "Ryou," He began slowly, "Did you
notice anything _special_ about your Millennium Ring?" A plan was working in his
mind, far from innocent, almost unnaturally unorthodox. If his Ring had negative
Power, then Ryou's Ring, being an exact opposite, must have positive Magick. And
with Magick came a whole new chapter of possibilities. In fact, combine the Magick
with his Darkwolf capabilities...
"N-no." Ryou stuttered, disliking Bakura's suddenly smug expression. "Not
any that I know of."
Bakura nearly growled with impatience. Of course the boy wouldn't know!
Humans, especially mortal humans, were blind to the uses of Magick. He shouldn't
have been surprised.
But now, as Bakura glanced once more at the other Millennium Ring, hanging
from Ryou's neck, glistening like a gold-pleated rainbow, a strange feeling of both
hope and excitement overwhelmed his thoughts.
He could see it now, with his sharp darkwolf senses. Ryou's Ring didn't have
just Magick. It had the ability of creating a portal between the Human and Darkwolf
realms.
The former darkwolf brushed an experimental tongue over his teeth in
anticipation. Yes, revenge would be sweet.
************************************
It had taken Bakura a while to adjust to his strange surroundings.
He once again surveyed his surroundings, glancing at everything with a rather
distilled version of awe.
Large, block like structures, which Ryou had dubbed "skyscrapers" shot
upwards at a magnificent height, until they seemed to be touching the sky. The entire
area was covered in hard, rock-like substances, save a few patches of grass, usually
seen in front of squat, square structures, apparently where each human lived. Bakura
felt like he had stuck his face into a geometric assemble. Everything was rectangular,
square, circular, or arched with perfected symmetry. On occasion, a few trees
protruded from the unyielding ground (sidewalk, Ryou said), though they were a
motley collection; leaves a sickly yellow-green.
It was imprinted upon Darkwolf instinct to survey or investigate one's
surroundings before adjusting to them. Bakura would rather freeze in Hell than live in
this damned place, though he didn't want to put himself at a disadvantage doing
otherwise. Besides, the humans might have information about his task at hand.
Bakura paced around aimlessly, though he could have sworn that he had
passed that same lamp twice already. He furrowed his brows, thinking hard about the
connection between the two Millennium Rings. Ryou's Ring had the ability to
command powerful Magick, but the boy himself possessed no Magick to trigger the
command. Which meant that Bakura was at a stalemate.
The more Bakura thought of it, the angrier he got. He wanted power. He
wanted to be able to shift back into his natural Darkwolf form, freed from his
Millennium Ring's Power-draining spell, freed from his weakness. And most of all, he
wanted revenge.
"Excuse me."
Bakura whirled around to challenge the voice. He met the foreign face of some
human stranger, a harried female trailing a pestering human-cub behind her. The
small child was jumping up and down in a frenzy of energy, screaming in an
unnaturally shrill voice.
"WHAT?" Bakura snarled, annoyed by his interruption. He was tempted to
strangle the screaming child then and there, though he carefully restrained himself,
lest he fall out of Ryou's "favour". After all, the former Darkwolf needed the boy to
cooperate in order to carry out his plans.
The woman huffed. "How rude, you insolent cur! I just wanted to ask you
directions." And with that, she stormed away, still holding the child in one hand.
"Bitch." Bakura muttered, glaring at the pair of humans. It was
amazing how loudly human-cubs could scream; really, such a waste of energy.
Wait!
Bakura's Millennium Ring absorbed Power. And there was nothing special
about power - it was just a concentrated form of energy. The former darkwolf's mind
began racing again. If he could provide his own Ring with enough energy - Power - to
be momentarily satiated, then he could override its curse! Of course, the curse would
only be lifted until his Ring ran out of Power again. Yet, it was better than nothing.
Bakura licked his lips in anticipation, running his tongue experimentally
against his canines. Yes, he would start here. And once he had triggered the full use of
both Millennium Rings, feeding his own Ring enough Power while fuelling the other
with his Magick, then, he would pay a nice visit back to the Shadow World. Of
course, there would still be some technical problems about Ryou, since the other Ring
wouldn't even budge without its host. It sickened Bakura to think about a _human_
meaning that much to him. The boy was a walking weakness for the former Darkwolf.
He would sort that out later. Right now, what really mattered was driving
away the negative Power of his Millennium Ring - to satiate its demand. Bakura
grinned.
Yes, humans _indeed_ had a lot of energy, more than they could ever need. Tonight,
he would go soul-stealing....
**********************************
"W-where are we going?" Ryou stuttered. The boy couldn't believe that
Bakura had dragged him all the way here. It was a good thing that his father had gone
out on an expedition in Egypt, or else, he would have been severely punished. Then
again, if his father were here, none of this would have ever happened.
"Somewhere." Again, Bakura had a smug reply to his voice. The former
darkwolf wouldn't let the boy spoil his mood; he had spent most of the trek ignoring
the protests of the boy.
Bakura had discovered something quite unusual about the two Millennium
Rings. He could sense Ryou's presence through his own Ring, and had a good feeling
that Ryou could do the same. As pathetic as it sounded, it was almost like the Rings
had forced a bond or connection between the two.
The sky was pitch-black, a familiar shadowy layer that spread across the entire
area. Strange, artificial lights glimmered slightly overhead, illuminating the streets in
a random assortment of pale orange-yellow. A full moon hung in the sky,
accompanied by dotted specks of stars.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Bakura's keen senses heard it before Ryou could even guess. The former
Darkwolf broke into a sadistic grin, baring his teeth just slightly. Now, the hunt
began.
"Bakura." Ryou persisted, voice meek and subdued. "I-I think we should go
back. It's dangerous here."
'Yes', Bakura thought to himself, careful to conceal his expression. 'It _is_
dangerous. For them.' The boy looked so helpless, that the former Darkwolf was
tempted for a moment to try and reassure him. No- he could not think like that. Ryou
was carrion, only an extra piece of luggage.
Yet, Bakura had another reason for bringing Ryou, one entirely unrelated to
the Magick of the boy's Ring. Ryou was weak, pathetic, and most of all, he was a
_human_. A human in the Shadow Realm was a dead one.
Bakura glanced slightly at the full moon overhead. It could only be done once
per full Moon, and by only the most desperate, power-hungry Darkwolves. Now, the
former Darkwolf's eyes trailed back onto Ryou's figure. Once he had stopped his
curse, once he regained his Darkwolf self, then, he would carry it out. Bakura's grin
grew wider as Ryou looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.
"Stay here, Ryou." Bakura commanded, amusing himself with the fear
prevalent in the boy's expression. "I'm going to get...something."
"Y-you'll come back, won't you?" Ryou whispered, slightly terrified.
Pathetic. Such a clinging dependency. Yet, Bakura thought with a slightly
pained twinge, it was all that he had. "Of course." The former Darkwolf tried his best
to hide the contempt soaking into his voice. "And then, we can go back." Right. After
something else.
Ryou gave a meek nod of consent, watching the former Darkwolf slink, and
then disappear, into the dark shadows. The boy gulped slightly, feeling exposed in his
lone state. He closed his eyes, and tried to make himself as inconspicious as possible.
***************************************
Kazuhiro Ishizuka was a busy man. He had spent the entire day phoning
people, attending conferences, making sure that things simply got done. The man
groaned slightly, stretching his back. He had refused a ride from his colleague simply
for the simple fact: he was getting fat.
Now, Kazuhiro re-adjusted his tie in mid-step, shifting the position of his
briefcase just slightly. His mind pondered over the day's events, and he suddenly
realized that he had forgotten to phone his wife. Immediately, the middle-aged man's
chubby fingers strayed to his cell phone.
He was about to dial the number, when a chilling shudder shot through his
body, stopping him dead in his tracks. It was as if a pair of lethal, venomous eyes
were watching him from the darkness. Slowly, the businessman turned around,
gulping loudly to face the source.
It was a youth, leaning against a lamppost. The light reflected at an odd angle,
so that everything but the youth was cast in a flickering orange glow. Only the eyes of
this strange person reflected under the light, a startling amber-brown, gleaming
predatorily.
Kazuhiro shook his head. It was just another one of those teenage punks, and
probably a drug addict, to be out this late at night. The businessman ignored the figure
and continued to walk.
That is, until the figure approached him.
Kazuhiro put down his cell phone. "What do you want?" The man exclaimed
rather irritatedly. There was something about this teen's eyes that slightly unnerved
the man.
The teen was getting startlingly close, now intruding into Kazuhiro's self-
conscious bubble of privacy. The businessman noted with startled eyes that this teen
had demonic _silver_ hair. What type of punk would dye his hair silver? Kazuhiro
started to back away as the teen neared him until they were literally face-to-face.
Without warning, the white-haired youth grabbed Kazuhiro by the shirt. The
businessman shuddered, suddenly paralysed on the spot. Those eyes...
"What do I want?" The silver-haired youth repeated, tone perfectly smooth.
His controlled, placid face suddenly broke into a sadistic grin. "Your soul."
Bakura's Millennium Ring flashed erratically as it fed on the energies of this
hapless man. There was a chaotic whirl of light surrounding both figures before
finally coming to a silent standstill.
Bakura dropped the figure of the lifeless man to the ground, a satisfied smile
playing on his lips.
************************************************
Life was about power. It was about those who controlled, and those who were
controlled. Bakura rested his hand on the cord of his ring, fingers brushing over its
slightly warm surface.
And he was in control. For now.
The former Darkwolf retraced his steps back towards the other. Now, Bakura
could feel his Darkwolf Magick returning back into his body, coursing through his
veins, no longer confined by his Millennium Ring. Yes, his plan had gone well.
He could see Ryou, still looking around aimlessly. The boy jumped as he felt
Bakura's presence, giving a faint sigh of relief.
"C-can we leave now?" Ryou whispered softly.
Bakura could have laughed long and hard. The boy thought he was going home.
The former Darkwolf would have fun shattering Ryou's misconception. Delightful.
"Come here." Bakura commanded. He was amused by the boy's obedience.
Gently, Bakura placed his hand around Ryou's neck, sliding it slightly so that it
caressed the boy's cheek. "I want to show you something."
Ryou was petrified. The look on Bakura's eyes was hypnotic; he was frozen on
the spot. It was as if nothing else mattered save the other's commands. The white-haired
boy tried to struggle, to back away, but his body would not obey.
The former Darkwolf chuckled, seeing the fear in the boy's eyes. "You can't
stop yourself, can you?" He murmured, mind tingling in delight. "You are mine."
It was a possessive statement, said with perfect furiousity. Ryou knew what
was coming next. He mentally shuddered as Bakura neared him, and could feel the
other's elated breath pressing against his skin.
Slowly at first, Bakura leaned over, locking contact with the boy's lips. There
was no resistance; they had done this before, and it felt right. Yet, this time, instead of
slipping his tongue in to demand the other's access, Bakura let his lips slowly slide
from Ryou's mouth to his chin. The former Darkwolf brushed his tongue along the
boy's neck, hand holding the boy in a tight grip to prevent the other from even
thinking of escaping.
Ryou moaned slightly. He couldn't help it. There was a taste of perfect,
sensual pleasure in every stroke of the other's tongue, a fiery feeling of lust radiating
around the other's presence. The white-haired boy felt himself unconsciously leaning
towards the other's touch, unable to resist.
Bakura was careful not to lose his concentration, continuing to slide his mouth
down Ryou's soft, perfect skin until it was at the base of the boy's neck. He hungrily
unbuttoned the top portion of Ryou's shirt, exposing part of the boy's chest and
shoulders. The Darkwolf could felt the slight aberration in the skin; this was the first
cut, the first scar he had inflicted on the boy. Bakura's tongue pinpointed the exact
spot before he acted, suddenly digging his sharpened canines into the boy's flesh. He
could feel the other gasp in pain, trying to shrink away, but the former Darkwolf's
firm hands prevented such actions. He sunk his teeth down harder until they touched
part of Ryou's collarbone, allowing the blood to dribble and cascade down the boy's
gleaming-white chest. Some of the liquid trickled into Bakura' mouth, and he tasted it
with an experimental tongue. Ryou was jerking convulsively now, gasping in pure
agony. Sweat collected around the boy's eyes, and his shirt clung on to his skin,
slightly damp.
Finally, Bakura withdrew his teeth, cleaning them with a brush of his tongue.
He watched the Ryou relax slightly, still holding onto the boy's arms in restraint.
The full moon glistened overhead, resting its gaze over the two figures.
Bakura could feel the aroused excitement within his Darkwolf senses, seeking to roam
free in the night under its influence. He suppressed the urge - there was still this ritual
to complete.
Bakura raised his arm, looking at his scarred skin. And then, he brought his
forearm towards his mouth, sinking his teeth down into his own flesh. Crimson blood
swirled around the new wound, some escaping to drip onto the ground. With a
satisfied smirk, the former Darkwolf examined his bloodied forearm, bringing it
towards Ryou's neck. In a sudden flex of movement, Bakura pressed his cut against
Ryou's bleeding one, so that both exposed wounds collided in a splurge of scarlet. For
a moment, the two foreign bloods swirled around each other tentatively before finally
creeping into the other's, mixing and then entering the other's body.
Human blood meant nothing to Bakura. It was a harmless, useless substance,
like drinking water, or breathing air. Yet, the properties of Darkwolf blood were
infamous. Darkwolves lived incredibly long lifespans, undergoing a consistent pattern
of death and rebirth. Darkwolf blood also had amazing curative properties, if exposed
in the right conditions, explaining the immediate healing rate Darkwolves experienced
when shifting from their wolf forms to their human counterparts.
Yet, most of all, Darkwolf blood contained the shape-shifting Magick. It did
not mean anything to other Darkwolves, or Vampires, the latter having their own
specific genes. Yet, to humans, who had no exposure to the supernatural, it was
exceedingly powerful. A drop of Darkwolf blood had the potential to change them
forever.
A full moon, and the Darkwolf's will. Bakura had both of these to ensure the
ritual. Ryou was now unnaturally calm in Bakura's arms, the boy's eyes glazed over,
face expressionless. The silver-haired outcast removed his forearm, hissing slightly
from the slight pain. Bakura then licked off the scattered blood from his wound, and,
after some reluctant debate, did the same to Ryou's. The other was unconscious now,
limp form resting against Bakura's chest so that his chin was propped on the
Darkwolf's shoulder. The Millennium Ring around Ryou's neck began to flicker, and
suddenly flare up in light, as if awoken from a deep sleep.
Which could be true, in a sense. A pity Ryou was unconscious - Bakura would
have liked to test his theory now. The former Darkwolf could already see some subtle
changes taking place: slightly sharpened teeth in the mimicry of canines, sleek white
fur running just slightly along Ryou's arms. Most of all, he could feel the Darkwolf
Magick running along in the boy's blood, Magick that would strengthen Ryou's
physical strength beyond any human's capability.
Bakura's Millennium Ring prevented Ryou from becoming a complete Darkwolf, since
Bakura himself could only infest his Magick intermittently. Thus, Ryou would only be
able to shift during certain intervals; still pathetically human most of the time.
Bakura would be patient. Give or take a few more days, the silver-haired
outcast would return back to the Shadow Realm. There was plenty of Power and Magick
in the Shadow Realm - definately more than needed. Then, Ryou would no longer be a problem, and then, he would finally extract his revenge.
The silver-haired outcast closed his eyes, calling within his once-forgotten
Magick. He allowed it once more to come alive, mingling with his body, becoming
part of him. Slowly at first, skin sprouted fur, hind legs readjusting, backbone
lengthening into a plumed tail. Ryou was still slung over his back, in a half-lying
position, head pressed against one of Bakura's pointed ears.
Now fully in wolven form, Bakura trotted off, careful not to let his "luggage"
fall. This strange city smelt like metal and acid, rotting with putrid scents that wanted
to make the silver-furred Darkwolf gag. Bakura lifted his muzzle, looking around the
abandoned streets with a slight grin of satisfaction. He could feel the influence of the
moon against his figure, the soft beams bathing his fur a glistening shade of platinum-
silver.
A single, wavering cry shot through the once-silent city. There was no sorrow
nor pity in its tone.
This time, it was a cry of tribute. And even when the tone died away, its echo
of vengeful promise remained.
***************************************
End notes:
Zoo: YEAH! I'm done! This chapter only took me... about a month!
Eevee muse: *rolls eyes* Good thing that you only do the even chapters.
FC: Well, good news everybody! It looks like people actually like our fic!
*A moment of silence ensues, followed by katakana rolling in the background
spelling out "HWOOOOOOOOOO~~~"*
Zoo: *blink blink* FC, what have you been drinking?
FC: I'm serious! We actually have reviews!
Flareon muse: You haven't been reviewing under different pen names have you, FC?
*suspicious eyes*
FC: *sobs* Why are you so mean to me? There are actually people who enjoy this fic!
And I would like to thank them all for reviewing. *hands reviewers various
Yuugi/Yami vampire and Ryou/Y.Bakura darkwolf plushies.*
Zoo: *stares* I'm in awe.
Eevee muse: Yes, me too. Where does FC get those plushies anyway?
Zoo: *facefault* Not that! I mean, I actually have fans? *big teary eyes* I feel so
loved! I'm actually recognized for my hard work!
Flareon muse: *aside to the Eevee muse* I think they're just here for the vampires.
Eevee muse: *aside to Flareon muse* Oh well. At least it'll keep her preoccupied.
FC: *oblivious to it all* ^_^ Well, read and review, and I'll promise a nice chappy
next time!