Author's Notes:
Disclaimer: FC and Zoo-chan don't own Yu-gi-oh!
Zoo: Yay! You updated, FC-chan! I was looking forward to your chapter ^_^
Eevee muse: -_-;; Speak for yourself – you took a while to update too!
Zoo: Erm.. ^^;;; I was still recovering from that lovely graphic scene FC painted.
Even days after, I couldn't go near one of those spiky dog collars.
Eevee muse: Oh yeah? What about the dream where you stored people's dissected
organs in alphabetical order?
Flareon muse: … Or the dream where you shaved people's skin with a potato shaver?
FC: o.O;;; *scoots away from Zoo*
Zoo: ^^;;; *covers up Eevee and Flareon muse's mouths* You guys and your weird
imaginations! *nervous laughter* Uhmm.. anyway, just ignore them and go on to the
fic ^_^()…
NOTE: For the sake of retaining certain characters' dignity, Darkwolves shift back
into human forms _with_ the clothes they shifted from. Bonded Darkwolves can only
shape-shift when their masters do. Easy, simple.
WARNING: This is a R-rated fic. Suggestions of rape, shounen-ai, and Darkwolf yaoi
@.@
*******************************
"…Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,
Now due to be crowned again…"
- DH Lawrence, "Snake"
*****************************
Chapter 8 – Outcast's Honour
Ryou woke up in a frenzy of fear and panic. He sat on his bed, eyes fully
dilated, sweat trickling down the sides of his face and collecting along his damp white
hair. For a few seconds, the white-haired boy simply breathed in and out, trying to
control his gasps and soothe his beating heart.
It had all been a dream. The demon, the abuse, the pain, was all a single dream
created by some fantastic part of his imagination.
After heaving a sigh of relief, Ryou felt for his clothes in the half-light, sliding
his feet onto the carpeted ground as quietly as possible. He turned around to retrieve a
pair of socks from the drawer…
…. And came face to face with a pair of glowing red eyes.
Ryou could have run away screaming at the top of his lungs. He was tempted
to do so. But now, the demon in his nightmare had grabbed his arm, holding the
white-haired boy in an iron grip.
"Ryou." The demon sneered, a mocking smile lighting up on its mirrored lips.
"You're finally.. awake."
"I-I-I," Ryou stuttered, opening his mouth and closing it a few times. There
was a long pause of silence as both figures simply stared at each other. Finally, Ryou
broke the eye contact, sliding his gaze submissively to the floor and making a move
towards the door. "I have to go to school."
Bakura immediately stopped the other, roughly jerking Ryou's arm. "You're
not going anywhere." Oddly enough, Bakura suddenly smiled, advancing towards the
boy. He slid his head against Ryou's shoulders, bracing his form possessively against
the younger boy's body. "You're mine. Every bit of your pathetic self is mine; mind,
soul, and body."
"I-I'm s-sorry, b-b-but I c-cant." Ryou stuttered, flinching slightly under the
former Darkwolf's touch. A pounding headache was throbbing at the back of his
head, obscuring his thoughts. Timidly, Ryou pushed his hands against Bakura's chest
in an attempt to pull away.
Much to Ryou's surprise, Bakura let go, allowing Ryou to distance himself.
The former Darkwolf never took his burning eyes off the other, a superior grin still
playing on his face. "You have no clue, do you?"
It was Ryou's turn to feel slightly agitated. The continuous pounding pain in
his head was not helping his normally docile temper. "A clue on what?"
"I _own_ you Ryou. You are one of mine now."
Confusion still clouded the white-haired boy's eyes. That was when he spotted
it – a half-healed scar running along his shoulder blade, previously hidden by his
loose pyjama collar. Ryou instinctively put his hand towards the wound, tracing it
gently with his fingers.
… And suddenly recoiled in shock.
There was _fur_ running along the back of his hand. Silently, Ryou held up a
trembling hand, brushing his other thumb along the white-hued fuzz. It was soft,
slightly coarse to the touch, bristling when he rubbed it backwards. Yet most of all,
Ryou could feel ever fibre, every point of the fur as he traced it absentmindedly a few
times up and down with his finger.
Without warning, the white-haired boy collapsed the ground, face utterly
appalled. His wide eyes stared accusingly Bakura, and suddenly, his headache seemed
not that important. "Bakura… what did you do?" His voice was low; the tone of
someone defeated.
"You asked me before what I was." Bakura grinned, gleefully facing Ryou's
shocked face. " I was once a Darkwolf, but became exiled and condemned by the
powers of my Millennium Ring. But now, I am a new species, human-mind and wolf-
spirit. A changeling, you could say."
Ryou recoiled under the other's alluring smile, a knot of fear growing in his
stomach. He stared at Bakura, trying edge himself further from the clearly-insane
demon's presence. This wasn't true! It had to be some fantastical nightmare. Yes,
he'll wake up, and then-
"-But after I return to my world, I'll be Darkwolf once more. Or perhaps,
something stronger, a _spell casting_ Darkwolf." Bakura continued to smile, eyes
flashing wildly. "And you know how they say miserly loves company…"
******************************************
Humans adapted poorly to change. A single cut or sore, and it took days, even
weeks to heal. Ryou was no exception.
The boy's human blood had tried to reject the changes at first, resulting in
Ryou's slightly odd appearance. The former Darkwolf snorted to himself. Hell, Ryou
looked more like a demon than he himself did!
Yet, humans thrived on change. Give or take a few weeks, and Ryou would
heal. Then, the boy would be his soul-slave for eternity, a pitiful shadow walking in
Bakura's wake.
The former Darkwolf peered through his serrated white bangs to catch a
glimpse of Ryou staring vacantly out the window.
The white-haired boy was curled on the bed, arms gently wrapped around his
knees. His face was oddly beautiful, ears gently pointed, irises glowing slightly in
their deep brown flecks.
Bakura chuckled silently. Ryou was his! The former Darkwolf slid his eyes
towards the darkening sky outside the window. It would be night time soon.
Time for another game of cat and mouse.
Or should he say, wolf and human?
************************************
It seemed like hours now. Ryou quickly glanced at his alarm clock. 11:07 pm.
Only seven minutes had passed since Bakura had left the room without a single word.
Well, perhaps a warning look, but the white-haired boy was in no mood to test the
extent of Bakura's patience when the other got back.
Silently Ryou shuffled towards his bookstand, reaching a hand towards the top
shelf. It was slightly dusty, and his fingers trailed over several mothballs before
stopping. With a slight grunt, Ryou grabbed the object he could only feel, jerking it
just enough to pull it off its well-rested position.
A book now rested in the white-haired boy's hands. It was thick and slightly
worn, the fine gold print on the cover faded from years of use. Gently, Ryou blew the
dust off the book, fingers lifting the cover and experimentally flicking through several
yellowed pages.
At last he made a stop on one page. Ryou traced his index finger along the fine
black print, reading it aloud as if to reassure himself.
"Werewolves, See: Lycanthrope, wolf-man."
"Considered a mythical creation dating back to early medieval times, werewolves
were viewed as humans who had sold their souls to the devil in exchange for the
power of a demon. The condemned humans took the form of the wolf at night to
disguise themselves, carrying out bloodthirsty rampages."
Ryou paused, frowning slightly. Was this the reason for the sudden rash of
violent murders in the past few weeks? Yet, it didn't make sense: Bakura hadn't
arrived until a week ago. Even if the other did, the white-haired demon barely seemed
to be the same pitiful creature he was on the day they first met.
"In modern times, the werewolf is still considered a terrible icon. Often, those
doomed under the curse of the werewolf would undergo the changes into a wolf-like
beast once every full moon, becoming a mindless killing machine. The werewolf can
only transfer its curse during the full moon, if its victims survive its attacks."
Survive. That was hardly the word that Ryou would use. What Bakura had
done, it was more intimate; possessively sensuous than sadistic.
Ryou snorted, closing the volume with a defeated sigh. Then again, no one
else had met a werewolf so what was there to blame? And hadn't Bakura mentioned
another name?
_Darkwolf_
Bakura was a Darkwolf, barely a bestial, horrendous beast of children's
nightmares. The white-haired demon was simply a wolf reborn in human form. A
wolf robbed of kin, spirit damned and restless.
Ryou's headache was working up again.
Years of watching grossly distorted horror flicks had made the white-haired
boy edgy and frightened. He could visualize in graphic detail the victims scream in
pitiful cries and pleas as their bodies shaped and distorted, bones crunching, voices
changing into demonic growls under the curse.
That was it, wasn't it? The difference between truth and lies. An orange could
be vocalized as tangy and sweet, but the garble of words meant nothing. In order to
understand an orange, one had to hold the fruit in their hands, taste the simmering,
juicy pulp and lick the stingy spray off from the rind.
Nothing happened.
Darkwolf Magick simply did not work that way. It was a subtle feeling
crawling beneath his skin, aware but not intrusive. He could feel this promise of
strength, this proud, reassuring aura within him, watching in dignified silence.
Tentatively, the white-haired boy closed his eyes, reaching out towards this
newly found channel of support. Immediately, the Darkwolf Magick coiled around his
touch. It danced around his hesitation, aura vibrating in eager, waiting for any
command.
Ryou hesitated, eyes clouding over in confusion. It was right at his fingertips,
all but beckoning him, but did he dare? Then again, what was there to lose?
At last the boy broke the final restraints against this strange, ancient Magick, letting it
flow freely within him, through his veins, enveloping his mind with a numbing power.
The white-haired boy closed his eyes, lips slightly parted in awe. He could feel
his already-long hair rippling, spreading across his skin like wildgrass, enveloping
him in a sudden blanket of warmth. Almost too suddenly, he dropped on all fours,
forearms strengthening and fingers tapering into blunt claws. His face elongated to
form an ivory-white muzzle, teeth growing and sharpening into visible canines. Last
came the plumed tail, stretching out behind him like a soft regal banner, billowing
under an invisible breeze.
The boy – no Darkwolf – shook his pure-white coat, stretching his forepaws
out in front of him to grab a corner of his jacket and pull it off. The fabric got caught
against one of his pointed ears, and Ryou paused in momentary confusion before
flicking his ear and detaching the offending object.
A wolf as white as a swan's wing, deemed impossible as a survivor against
Japan's unnaturally warm terrain. And yet, Ryou was no wolf. He was the exact
opposite of Bakura, a human hiding under a wolf's powerful form.
As quietly as possible, Ryou leapt onto his bed, paws caving slightly under the
mattress. He spent a few moments grappling with the latch of the window. In a burst
of cold air and rustle of windowpanes, Ryou jumped into the darkness, free from his
confines for the first time.
He landed with a soft thud on the leaf-swathed ground, digging his paws
experimentally into the soil before taking off, tongue lolling eagerly to one side of his
mouth. It was bliss, such dignity and grace, such euphoria of strength supporting him
like a towering pillar.
There was still his Millennium Ring dangling by his chest. Yet it did nothing
to bother Ryou. He trotted towards the woods imprinted already in his human mind,
wolf-instincts overpowering his normally conservative rationale.
After all, in order to understand a Darkwolf, Ryou had to be one.
*****************************************
Bakura snorted, lifting his head up from his now-motionless prey. So the boy
came to him.
The silver-furred Darkwolf continued to feast greedily into the dead deer's
warm flesh, canines biting rhythmically through the skin and muscles. True, there
were plenty humans around, breeding faster than flies, but Bakura could never acquire
a taste for their flesh. For starters, it smelt awful, somewhat akin to decayed carrion
mixed in sweaty mildew and urine. It tasted worse; dry and stringy in his mouth
without any essence of strength or nutrition.
Ryou was coming soon. And Bakura had no intention of sharing.
Not, the silver-furred Darkwolf thought to himself, that the other would dare,
but it was amusing to imagine.
There was a rustle in the nearby bushes, and Bakura immediately jerked to full
awareness, fur bristling just slightly in apprehension.
A pure white muzzle parted from the darkened leaves, extending into a face of
glistening ivory fur and gentle chestnut eyes.
Even without those strikingly familiar eyes, Bakura was able to sense Ryou's
presence. It was as if their Millennium Rings had tied their two completely separate
souls together like it tied their Power and Magick.
Ryou too recognized Bakura almost immediately. The snow-white wolf
recoiled backwards, a small whimper escaping his long lupine snout. One icy glare
from Bakura and Ryou was frozen on the spot.
The silver Darkwolf bared his jaws in a gesture of dominance. He neared the
smaller white-furred wolf, circling around the other to scrutinize Ryou under his sharp
Darkwolf eyes. Even in Darkwolf form, there was something about Ryou that set
Bakura off; something that immediately told his senses that Ryou was more than he
seemed. Bakura initially passed it as the vile human essence, repudiating it
completely. How wrong he had been.
Ryou was a Seer. The boy's hidden Magick was incredible; it all but vibrated
with power inside his body. True, Darkwolves had a naturally resource of Magick, but
rarely as strong or concentrated.
Bakura could have laughed aloud at his sheer stroke of luck. This boy – not
only could he store Magick, but he could command it! This boy was his key to
overcoming the other helpless Darkwolves. And most of all, Ryou had no clue.
::You're mine:: The Darkwolf voiced those words in his mind, forcing them
down the link he and Ryou now shared. It was the link of creator and follower, of
dominant to submissive. The silver Darkwolf prowled closer to Ryou's glistening-
white body. He rested his muzzled head against the smaller Darkwolf's back, sinking
his canines deep into the base of Ryou's neck. Ryou yelped slightly, but Bakura
silenced the other with a single look. Finally the silver Darkwolf let go, licking the
droplets of blood stunning his teeth. Bakura let his muzzle slide up along the other's
neck, tongue trailing over the soft white fur until it reached Ryou's own muzzle.
Without waiting for the other's permission, Bakura pried Ryou's sharp
incisors apart with a single jerk of his tongue, twisting his elongated head sideways to
allow room for the muzzle. The silver Darkwolf leaned his head aggressively
forwards, opening and closing his mouth to taste the sides of Ryou's muzzle. The
smaller Darkwolf's mouth was open slightly in submission, allowing Bakura's tongue
to run experimentally against Ryou's. Several times, Bakura traced his tongue
dangerously close against the smaller Darkwolf's canines, but Ryou did not move his
jaw an inch.
Bakura grinned, opening his mouth one more time to lock jaw-to-jaw with
_his_ possession. This was more than loyalty; it was obedience. Even in control of
power, Ryou dared not disobey.
:: You are chained to me for eternity. By accepting your Darkwolf gifts, you
have sold your soul under my command.:: At last Bakura parted, letting his words
sink deeply into Ryou's consciousness.
Ryou replied with a barely audible whine, a pathetic glimmer of denial
crossing his beautiful Darkwolf features. His pure-white fur glistened like snow under
the moonlight, making him appear more a ghostly apparition than a phantasic spirit of
the night.
Bakura could feel the turbulent emotions roiling in Ryou's mind wanting to
flee and rebel. He could sense the Magick within Ryou, stirred into uneasiness,
pooling into Ryou's Millennium Ring to calm its owner's apprehension.
Seconds later, Ryou bowed his head, bending his forepaws to collapse onto the
ground. The white-furred Darkwolf rested his muzzle on the cold dirt, paws extended
forwards, eyes gazing upwards in a gesture of submission.
{P-please. Just let me do one more thing.} Ryou hesitated upon feeling
Bakura's sudden flare of anger. {One more thing, and then… I'm yours. Only yours.}
A twinge of guilt travelled across Bakura's mind. True, he wanted dominance
over the other, but not to the point where Ryou was absolutely helpless without him.
Yet the promise of absolute power in controlling a Darkwolf Seer – it was a
temptation Bakura could not resist. A sneer played on his chiselled Darkwolf muzzle.
::Take your day. In fact, _enjoy_ your last days in this pathetic human world. But
after that, you are mine, just like you promised.::
The smaller, white Darkwolf closed his eyes giving a deep sigh bordering
relief and defeat. He continued to stay in his prostrate position until Bakura slid
beside him and showed him intimate… things… deemed impossible for humans to
perform.
*****************************************
Ever since the first Ritual when Bakura had marked Ryou as his own, the
former Darkwolf felt himself getting more and more possessive about the boy. He
knew that he had promised Ryou just one more day of freedom, but his possessive
Darkwolf instincts were firmly rooted against letting the other leave. What if Ryou
got into trouble, or got hurt? The former Darkwolf bristled at that thought. Ryou was
_his_ and his to touch only!
Which was the reason to why Bakura was walking along Ryou. The boy had
mentioned a need to visit some strange institution called a 'school', but the former
Darkwolf failed to listen beyond those words. It was just one more day within this
damned world, so Bakura wouldn't even care if Ryou was going to a purgatory. That
was, as long as Ryou didn't get harmed in the process.
Why did Bakura cling to the other so much? Was it because Ryou was his
_only_ companion? The former Darkwolf's eyes clouded over in pain. After all his
allies and followers, he was left with this cub, a boy more human than Darkwolf.
So, Bakura walked beside Ryou, mimicking the other's actions to blend into
this environment with only one conviction in his mind. He could not loose Ryou
because the boy was all that Bakura had.
**************************************
A shrill ringing sound jolted Bakura from his half-trance. Immediately the
former Darkwolf snared, baring his teeth, though they didn't look nearly as
impressive in his human state.
He then realized that he was still sitting on one of those damned
uncomfortable chairs, head resting on this rectangular 'table' while waiting for
Ryou's lesson to finish. Some of the other humans inside this confined room were
staring oddly at him. Bakura quickly wilted their amusement with a livid glare.
The former Darkwolf pushed himself up from the chair, Millennium Ring
jangling slightly around his chest. Ryou had given him a 'uniform' consisting of a set
of clothing, mainly a blue jacket, pants, and white shirt. Unfortunately, Bakura was a
bit larger than Ryou, so that the jacket strained against his figure, flaunting his lithe,
muscular frame.
A gaggle of girls passed by the former Darkwolf, suddenly breaking into
giggles as they approached him, winking and clutching their schoolbooks shyly.
Bakura was completely confused. He blatantly ignored the girls, arrogantly pushing
them out of the way before walking towards Ryou, who was still sitting on his desk
long after the bell, arms sprawled over a massive pile of sheets, hand scribbling
madly.
"Ryou." Bakura shook the boy's arm irately. "Why are you still here?"
The shorter white-haired boy looked up. "Homework." Ryou grunted, as if it
was the meaning to life.
The former Darkwolf snorted, forcefully pulling the other by the arm. The
desk trembled under the sudden movement, papers and pencils alike scattering onto
the ground. "I don't have the time for this." Bakura gritted his teeth, a painfully false
smile plastered on his face. "Don't make me wait."
The white-haired boy nodded. Ryou himself couldn't understand why he was
so loyal or obedient to Bakura, but it felt right, as if he was destined to this menial
task. As if this obligation meant everything to him.
Bakura grinned, nuzzling his face against Ryou's neck. The boy had taken
painstaking means to hide his unusual features and even went as far as to wear
fingerless gloves to school. Yet Bakura had yet to see how the boy could conceal
those haunting amber eyes or slightly pointed eyeteeth. No, there was no hiding the
appearance of those marked by a Darkwolf.
"Don't Bakura." Ryou timidly pushed the other away, wincing under the
former Darkwolf's indignant frown. "L-later, okay? Just let me finish school today."
Bakura decided to hold his tongue, though his temper flared and raged
erratically. He crossed his arms, making his jacket strain even more, unaware of the
looks that he was attracting from the few female stragglers still left within the room.
"Fine. I'll wait." The Darkwolf was used to waiting. Revenge was based on waiting.
Ryou mentally sighed in relief. Bakura was known to have temperamental fits
of anger. "Let's go have lunch then. I'll show you around in the cafeteria."
********************************
Bakura hated crowds. If there was anything he learned from being jammed in
a room with thousands of shrieking, yelling, jumbled-up voices, it was that they all
deserved to die. Painfully.
It didn't help that the cafeteria was drenched in an absolutely putrid scent. It
reminded the former Darkwolf of a human carcass he had once found in the Shadow
World, half rotting and oozing with maggots.
Ryou urged Bakura to continue walking. The boy seemed to be weaving
through and endless column of humans, much to the former Darkwolf's despair. Was
there no escape from these vile, pathetic, weak creatures?
Then Bakura caught it. It was a faint scent almost indiscernible among the
reek of spoiled food and human sweat. It was a dangerous scent, supernatural in aura,
tinged with confidence and power. It was the scent of one not from this world. But
there was not way – there couldn't be-
"Bakura!" Ryou called to the former Darkwolf who had suddenly stopped
walking. "Keep on moving! You're holding up the line-up."
Line-up? Bakura looked around him, clearing his mind of the previous
thought. It was probably just a figment of his imagination, a misleading scent
triggered by nostalgia. Ryou called this repugnant sea of humans cluttered randomly
in the small, enclosed space a line-up? More stunned than indignant, Bakura followed
Ryou, senses slightly overwhelmed by the noise and sheer amount of humans.
At last, after handling a pudgy human some wrinkled pieces of paper, Ryou
neared a somewhat spacious table and sat down. The white-haired boy then took a
wrapped object, neatly unfolding it to reveal a rectangular object inside. Ryou
grabbed a slice of the rectangle and took an experimental bite, chewing it a few times
before wrinkling his mouth in disgust.
"Ugh." The boy neatly folded the remainder of the edible, soft rectangle back
into the paper wrapping. "I've forgotten how gross cafeteria food tastes."
Bakura snorted, spreading his frame on the table bench, arms cushioning his
head. He half-closed his eyes in attempt to filter out the scents and noises. After he
returned to the Shadow World, he would finally drop his meaningless pretence and
seek the revenge he wanted. The former Darkwolf brushed and experimental tongue
over his teeth. First he would go after Isis, the very Darkwolf who condemned him,
and then the Council. Bakura was no longer afraid of the Seer because he too, had his
own secret weapon. That is, once Ryou got the experience…
A chorus of giggles broke the former Darkwolf from his train of thought.
Bakura irately snapped his deep chestnut eyes open, catching the figures of three girls
standing right by - or above, for that matter - him. The former Darkwolf forced down
a snarl and smiled blankly at the girls. "May I help you?" He nearly gagged at his
words, but it was necessary – he had to retain Ryou's favour as part of his grandiose
scheme.
The girls began to giggle and fidget harder. "Can we sit beside you?" The
human-girl speaking pointed to the empty space beside Bakura's sprawled frame.
Bakura sat back up, turning around to cast a pleading look at Ryou.
Unfortunately the white-haired boy was absorbed in talking to someone else, and had
strayed to another bench. Which left Bakura with these girls. Before the former
Darkwolf could even state a reply, the girls had seated themselves around him, taking
out their lunches and to prattle about the most menial things.
Never in his life had Bakura experienced such disgust for a sentient species.
Darkwolf females were strong and independent, able to hunt and fend for themselves
at will. These girls, these _human_ girls, barely seemed able to walk on their own.
They continued to talk endlessly, storming the former Darkwolf with questions and
terms Bakura could only guess at. Though he grunted and made discouraging replies,
they never seemed to give up, continuing their relentless pursuit for who-knows-what.
"So." One of the girls was continuing her own self-contrived interview. "Do
you have a girlfriend yet?"
Bakura frowned at that statement. "No."
"Did you ever have a girlfriend?" Another girl interrupted, rephrasing the
statement just slightly.
The former Darkwolf found his long-gone patience sprawling even further.
"Do I look like I have one?" He snapped, bristling his frame to try and appear as
menacing as possible.
This only made the girls 'aww' and giggle further. Sounds of 'he's free' and
'he's mine' escaped from the random noises the girls made. If Bakura was in his
Darkwolf form, he would have flattened his ears against his head in absolute defeat.
Did these humans never give up?
Like some music descended from the heavens, a sudden shrill shriek echoed
throughout the entire room. Immediately the girls 'eeped' and muttered some
goodbye's and 'here's my phone number' (in which case, Bakura was handed some
random slips of paper) and left the infinitely damned room. Almost everyone else had
left too.
He was free! Trying to restrain his excitement, the former Darkwolf stood up,
stretching his cramped muscles. He then turned to where Ryou was seated. "All right
Ryou, you better be-"
Bakura stopped as he realized that he was talking to an empty space. In fact,
the entire table where Ryou had been was empty. The former Darkwolf looked
around, spotting no sign of the white-haired boy.
He then growled, teeth clenched in frustration. Ryou had abandoned him! The
former Darkwolf stormed out of the room, pacing down the hallway in a furious blur
of speed, angrily shoving humans left and right of him. Ryou would pay for this!
*********************************************
"I said I was sorry!"
Ryou continued to chase after the furious Darkwolf. He had accidentally
forgotten about Bakura in his furious dash to class, resulting in a not-very-happy
Bakura. As in an absolutely livid Bakura.
The former Darkwolf suddenly whipped his head around, grabbing Ryou by
the arms. His fingers gripped painfully into Ryou's skin like iron clamps. "Sorry?"
Bakura was all but frothing now. "You _leave_ me, and you say you're fucking
sorry?!"
Ryou winced under the other's glare. This was Not Good. "I-I-" The boy
stuttered, trying to explain his situation. Not that he expected Bakura to understand,
but at least the other could have the patience to try.
"Yes, _you_!" Bakura spat the word out like acid. "The world is all about
_you_. It's all about how _you_ feel, and how _you_ want it to be. I take no part in
your world."
Ryou was at a loss of words. The boy looked down, biting his lip to stop a
retort he knew would only further anger the other.
The former Darkwolf seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. He stood there
for a few moments, fists clenched in anger, eyebrows furrowed in reminiscence of
personal failure and agony. Even now his back still burned in pain though the wound
had long healed.
It was this wasn't it? He was the scapegoat, the one whom everyone could
make fun of. Hell, even among _humans_ he was still considered the inferior, the
outcast.
The former Darkwolf found himself gazing right into Ryou's deep amber eyes.
For a moment, he could sense everything within those soft brown pools of light, as if
the very heavens had opened their secret to him. And he too expressed his darkness,
his hidden secret of anguish and loss in that single moment of interaction.
Bakura pulled away, willing himself to go no further. In a strangled cry of
frustration, the former Darkwolf ran, leaving the white-haired boy and his inquisitive
amber eyes behind.
Leaving his memories of anguish and despair behind.
*************************************
Ryou didn't know what he too. He simply stood, feet riveted to the spot,
watching Bakura leave. What were those emotions he had felt when looking into the
former Darkwolf's troubled eyes? Ryou wanted to chase after the other, to calm him,
to reassure him and soften Bakura's violent temper, but found himself without the
courage or motivation. The other's fierce, wild spirit was simply too much for Ryou
to tame.
Now the boy walked alone, stunned. Just like this and it was over. True he still
had the mark of a Darkwolf, but this Magick was no longer needed, and useless
without Bakura's presence. The other had finally left him, and all the supernatural
dealings and encounters would disappear. Ryou was just an ordinary person now.
A soft sigh escaped from the boy's lips. Ryou silently shuffled on his way
back home, ignoring the feeling of loss and confusion whirling at the back of his
mind. He turned at a nearby alleyway, picking his way through the mottled boxes and
garbage. His house was just a few blocks down, a sanctuary of the ordinary, and from
the look on Bakura's face, he doubted if the strange, almost-insane Darkwolf would
ever return.
The boy did not notice an obstruction until he hit it. Shocked, the boy looked
up, eyes catching a rather handsome face, grinning madly in the shadows. Wild violet-
red irises clashed against his soft amber ones.
Ryou mentally cursed to himself. It was getting dark now, and he highly
doubted that anyone would hear him if he screamed. The person hovering in front of
him did not look friendly.
"Excuse me." The white-haired boy politely shuffled to one side of the person.
He was immediately blocked by several others, flanking the lead figure. The boy's
heart plummeted, chest constricting in fear. "I-I need to go home."
Without warning the lead violet-red eyed figure grabbed Ryou roughly by the
chin, jerking the white-haired boy's face upwards. A prominent sneer played on the
figure's face. "Look. We found the bitch-boy yet again."
Ryou wrinkled his nose as the figure's long, straggled platinum-blonde hair
tickled his face. He tried to wriggle away from the searing grip, one arm pushing
away the other's elbow, but to no avail.
"Looks like he didn't learn his lesson well enough, Ishtar." Another thick
voice piped up.
The lead figure, the one holding Ryou like a caged dove, grinned, eyes
flashing wildly. For a moment it reminded the white-haired boy of Bakura, but there
was no sign of compassion or hurt in Ishtar's smoky-violet eyes.
In a flurry of jagged platinum hair and tanned skin, Ishtar was on Ryou,
pressing his lips firmly against the white-haired boy's mouth. Ryou's eyes widened in
surprise, his muffled retort gagged and choked by the other's smothering touch.
A single moment of air, and then Ishtar was on him again, the other's tongue
plunging deeply into Ryou's mouth, tracing over the boy's teeth in anticipation.
Ryou panicked. In a decision spurred more by fear than self-defence, the
white-haired boy bit down, clamping his teeth into the other's tongue. He could feel
Ishtar's foreign blood dripping like acid down his throat and he choked back a bile-
induced cough.
Although Ishtar immediately withdrew his mouth, he seemed more amused
then furious. The platinum-haired ringleader simply threw back his head in mocking
laughter. The sound burned Ryou's ears, making the boy involuntarily flinch.
"Nice, _bitch_." Ishtar sneered. He wiped the blood dripping out of mouth
with one hand. "But I'm done playing."
Ishtar grabbed Ryou's shirt, pulling the white-haired boy closer towards him.
He watched amusedly as Ryou whimpered in protest. Abandoning all patience
together, Ishtar began working at Ryou's belt, tossing it off before undoing the boy's
pants. This process had to be as psychologically damaging as physical. Ishtar was
going to make the white-haired boy learn the word 'suffer' all over again.
Bakura had never gone this far. Ryou tried to block the pain by focusing his
attention on the other he had lost. Glassy tears trickled down the white-haired boy's
eyes, and he wanted to scream and shout to the world his agony, but it was useless.
Had this been what Bakura had felt? This burning, this searing, this absolute removal
of all his dignity and innocence?
And most of all, Ishtar wouldn't stop. The other had taken the pleasure into
strapping the blade of a razor right by his abdomen, so that whenever he forced his
hips downwards, it would sink and plunge into Ryou's thighs, freeing thick rivulets of
blood.
Ryou shook his frame brokenly, mouth contorted into an expression of
absolute revulsion. Why wouldn't the other just take that blade, slip it around his neck
and end this pain forever? Ryou just couldn't take this pain anymore! His mind was
stuck in a frenzied loop of fear.
Ishtar was moving again. Amidst the jeers and shouts of encouragement, Ishtar
continued to jerk his sweating body, one tongue running along his lips in pleasure.
The platinum-haired ringleader arched his body once again, the blade flashing
wickedly at hip-level.
Ryou cringed, anticipating the pain. It never came. Yet instead of looking up,
or contemplating his freedom, the boy curled into a pitiful, trembling ball, letting the
tears flow freely down his stinging face.
The white-haired boy stayed almost oblivious to the screams, shouts, and roars
of rage. He ignored the splatters of warm liquid suddenly raining against his pitiful
frame, drowned out the cries of despair, and paid no heed to the crunching of bones or
the final patter of desperate footsteps disappearing into the darkness.
Ryou felt his head being roughly jerked up again. The boy winced, shuddering
uncontrollably, unable to stop his eyes from looking into his oppressor's.
Instead of those demonic ruby-violet irises, he found himself staring at a pair
of dark hazel eyes. Ones flecked with bare traces of soft-brown, like beams of
compassion in the plane of indifference.
The boy said nothing and simply collapsed into a pitiful bundle, not even
noticing when the other supported him just enough to kneel. Ryou buried his face into
the other's strong, familiar chest, shoulders heaving up and down in broken sobs. All
that remained to him was the pain.
The presence by him waited. A presence of born of darkness but meant to
support the light.
************************************
The midnight moonlight shone on two figures of silver and white treading like
ghosts in the shadows. The smaller of the two hesitated, pausing in apprehension only
to continue with a nudge from the other.
Throughout the entire ordeal Bakura had said nothing. What was there for the
Darkwolf to say? He had felt Ryou's agony through the strange bond they now
shared, arriving almost too late to salvage the last of the boy's dignity.
Then who was indeed the more pitiful? Him or Ryou? It was ironic that they
had both been violated, shattered, and abused. And they both continued their façade,
hiding their deepest grief from each other as if afraid of the other's presence. Bakura
denied it as the truth. His pain would be compensated by his revenge.
Already, Bakura had felt the sweet embrace of revenge. He felt the absolute
power and control when he had advanced upon Ishtar, using his Millennium Ring to
steal the other's vile soul and rip the remainder of the ringleader's body into bloody
shards.
Ryou mentally flinched as Bakura neared him. The white-furred Darkwolf
recoiled under Bakura's touch, quavering in fear.
The silver Darkwolf sighed. So? This was life – eat or be eaten. Ryou had to
cope with it.
Yet, why did the other look so pitiful? What made Bakura want to side beside
the other and drive away the fear with reassurance?
::It's okay, Ryou:: Bakura sent a half-comforting pulse through their mindlink.
::I'll… protect you.:: The last words sounded lame and slightly foreign.
Ryou clung to them with an insatiable desperation. {Th-they'll get me!} There
was an obvious hysteria in the boy's tone. {They'll find me and-}
::-I'll stop them.:: The silver Darkwolf drowned the last of Ryou's fear with
his own confidence and anger. ::I'll make them all pay.::
Silver and white. Considered the colours or shades of purity, of innocence, of
youth and vigour.
They were lies, like the lies of falsified dreams and hopes, scattering
inspiration and creating the descent into despair.
Silver and white. Colours of despair, but paired because of their similarity in
tone, their startling compliment of shades.
But most of all, paired for their resemblance.
*******************************************************
Bakura jerked up from his restful state. The silver Darkwolf raised his head,
suddenly alert. Invisible waves of tension wafted in the air currents. The night chatter
and rustles had fallen silent. An intruder was coming.
Bakura gently nuzzled Ryou to get up. The more experienced Darkwolf lead
the way through the dense trees and darkened foliage, trusting only his wolven senses
in this wilderness. It was a supernatural scent, the familiar aura of one not from this
world. His Millennium Ring began to glow just slightly, one of the pointed shards
hanging from the circular rim suddenly pointing to his left with a life of its own.
The silver Darkwolf did not question his Ring's power. He knew that there
was something that attracted his Ring, something very powerful that lay in that
direction. Recklessly he continued on.
Bakura was so engrossed in his chase that he almost failed to recognize the
target.
Right in front of the Darkwolf stood a figure Bakura mistook at first for a
human. It was a lithe, muscular figure, eyes glowing an unnatural red. The twin set of
canines protruding from this figure's mouth falsified the human-like pretence.
A rage fuelled by centuries of anger boiled within the silver Darkwolf's blood.
This creature standing in front of him was one of _them_. Yet it was impossible. How
could one of _them_ be here, in this human world? Moreover, what was _it_ doing
here?
"Darkwolf."
Bakura heard the other acknowledge him in a cold, detached voice full of
scorn and disdain. The silver Darkwolf immediately bared his teeth, fur bristling and
hackles rising. He let the single word escape from his lupine mouth.
"Vampire." A pity vampires did not comprehend Darkwolf speech.
Both predators, both powerful, destructive, ferocious creatures of the night
circled each other warily. They sized the other up, trying to form a strategy as they
continued pacing.
The tension rose between the two bristling creatures. At last Bakura made the
first strike. More impatient than the other, he doggedly leapt for the vampire's
exposed side, ivory incisors gleaming.
In the very last moment, the vampire pulled away, swinging his frame to
Bakura's left. The blood-hunter's thick crown of hair blocked the Darkwolf's vision,
causing Bakura to loose balance and fall ungainly to the ground.
The vampire immediately struck in that moment of awkwardness. His
unnaturally powerful hands clamped Bakura's jaws shut while his fangs sought for the
Darkwolf's struggling throat.
Bakura growled in indignation, continuing to avoid the vampire's incisors.
Two could play at that game.
The silver Darkwolf forced his muscles to relax as if hypnotized by the
vampire's aura. Bakura's dark-brown eyes noted shrewdly the other's gain of
confidence. Deception was the key to winning.
Just as the vampire coiled, ready like a serpent to strike, Bakura lunged out,
breaking free from the other's grip. The silver Darkwolf dropped to the ground, soft
belly scraping the ground. Without a moment's hesitation he slipped between the
vampire's legs and twisted his body into the air. Jaws wide open and flashing, the
Darkwolf leapt straight at the vampire's exposed spine.
The other reacted almost too belatedly. Bakura felt his teeth clamp onto something,
but it simply tore off like fake skin. It tasted oddly of leather, and stung the
Darkwolf's sensitive mouth. He angrily spat out the offending material.
Both opponents had regressed back to circling each other. They glared
menacingly, dark brown against crimson red, wary and apprehensive. Now they had a
taste of the other's potential and skills.
The vampire stepped into the moonlight that filtered between the canopy of
trees. A familiar design gleamed in the light, causing Bakura to temporarily lose his
concentration.
The silver Darkwolf blinked. It was impossible and downright ironic.
Engraved like a tattoo on the skin of the vampire's neck was the insignia of
the Darkwolves. Not just any insignia, but the Darkwolf symbol of rejection and
disgrace. It was the sign of the branded; the punished; the hated.
Bakura would have laughed. It was hard for him in wolven form to do
anything similar to laughter, but his jaws were open in a silent grin, tongue lolling in
amusement.
The vampire looked offended. The other stopped pacing and glared, crossing
his arms irately. "What's so funny, _Darkwolf_?" He spat out the word just as
distastefully as before.
Bakura ignored the other's anger, grinning wildly. He cocked his head to one
side in a sign of passiveness. Upon seeing the other relax slightly, he began to shift,
taking his distinctly human form. His white hair shimmered slightly in the filters of
moonlight.
"You call yourself a vampire?"
"Shut up, Darkwolf." The other bristled angrily at that comment, assuming an
offensive stance once more.
Bakura raised his hands to signal off the aggression. "I'm not here to pick a
fight with you, vampire. You'll find it hard fighting someone who does not support
his kind."
The vampire's features were clouded in confusion and obvious suspicion. "I
have no time for your riddles." His rich voice bordered impatience.
The former Darkwolf inwardly grinned. No doubt that this vampire was of the
higher ranks, possibly of noble vampire birth. A scheme started working in his mind.
After all, weren't vampires considered lethal enemies to the Darkwolves? What if…
"I am an outcast of my kind. They have rejected me, and I claim to be a
Darkwolf no more."
The other seemed unimpressed. "You still use Darkwolf Magick. As long as
you do so, I shall mark you as one of their kind."
Bakura inwardly snarled. How dare the other make such assumptions? "You
have been branded as a Darkwolf _prisoner_ and yet, I make no assumptions about
you. I have been mistreated by my kind and now seek only revenge. How else can I
get this revenge without using my powers?"
The vampire said nothing for a while. Something beside the blood-hunter
fidgeted uncomfortably in the silence, once hidden in the darkened foliage.
Bakura's eyes widened. There was another beside the vampire. One that
looked an unnatural amount like the vampire himself. Except, there was no
supernatural aura coming from this figure.
"You are carrying with you a human stowaway." The former Darkwolf
regarded this smaller human curiously. "I wonder, is he to be used for sustenance or
maybe as something else?"
"Do not question my antics and I won't ask yours." The vampire laid a
protective hand over the boy's shoulder. "You too have a follower."
The former Darkwolf said nothing. So much for playing advantages. He let
Ryou walk closer behind him to signal his equal protectiveness.
The other, still in wolven form, suddenly froze. {Bakura… I _know_ him.}
Considering the fact that Ryou was staring at the human, not the vampire - and
that Ryou had probably never seen a vampire in his life - Bakura decided to press his
curiousity. ::Where have you seen him?::
Instead of answering, Ryou too shifted, figure gently melding back to his
original human form. He was slightly weary after the change, wavering on both legs
before regaining his stance.
"Yuugi." The white-haired boy beckoned to the smaller figure tucked behind
the protective vampire. "It's me. Ryou."
The other boy, Yuugi's, violet eyes widened at an alarming rate. He poked his
soft spiky red and black hair out from the vampire's frame. "R-Ryou?"
Mutely Ryou nodded. Yuugi opened his mouth to say more but the vampire
cut him off.
"Enough." The vampire glared at Bakura with his ferocious crimson eyes.
"We shall continue on forgetting what has happened." The statement was directed at
the former Darkwolf.
Bakura grinned. He could see the apprehension in the vampire's eyes.
"Maybe, maybe not. My name is Bakura. And should our paths cross again, let it be
eventful."
After some reluctance the other consented. "Yami. That is close enough to my
name." He curtly turned away, dark cape trailing after him. "Good-bye, Darkwolf."
And with that, both vampire and human consort turned around and left.
Ryou blinked a few times. He then noted Bakura's intense glare and cringed.
"S-sorry. I shouldn't have interrupted."
Yet, instead of inflicting punishment, the former Darkwolf simply laughed.
His laughter echoed among the trees, stained with insanity. "No. This was perfect.
You see, we are related in more ways than one."
His eyes narrowed at the vampire's disappearing frame. "It comes to me now,
all the pieces. All I have to do is wait. I am patient." Bakura licked his lips in
anticipation, giving a few brief chuckles before turning away. Ryou followed.
It would only be a few hours before daybreak. Enough time to signal a portal
to the Shadow Realm.
Revenge was waiting for him.
******************************************
End notes:
Zoo: @.@ Wow! Notice how our chapters keep on getting progressively longer?
FC: ^-^V I guess we just have too much to write about!
Eevee muse: …Or too little.
Zoo: *scratches head* How would that work? If you had to little to write about-
Flareon muse: Then you would replace it with useless content ^_^
Zoo: Oh! *after a moment it finally clicks* -_-;;; Oh….
FC: Yay! I can finally update! After about a month's vacation! XD
Zoo: ;_; Gomen! Sorry for the slow update to you who still read this~
Eevee & Flareon muse: Please R&R ^.^
Disclaimer: FC and Zoo-chan don't own Yu-gi-oh!
Zoo: Yay! You updated, FC-chan! I was looking forward to your chapter ^_^
Eevee muse: -_-;; Speak for yourself – you took a while to update too!
Zoo: Erm.. ^^;;; I was still recovering from that lovely graphic scene FC painted.
Even days after, I couldn't go near one of those spiky dog collars.
Eevee muse: Oh yeah? What about the dream where you stored people's dissected
organs in alphabetical order?
Flareon muse: … Or the dream where you shaved people's skin with a potato shaver?
FC: o.O;;; *scoots away from Zoo*
Zoo: ^^;;; *covers up Eevee and Flareon muse's mouths* You guys and your weird
imaginations! *nervous laughter* Uhmm.. anyway, just ignore them and go on to the
fic ^_^()…
NOTE: For the sake of retaining certain characters' dignity, Darkwolves shift back
into human forms _with_ the clothes they shifted from. Bonded Darkwolves can only
shape-shift when their masters do. Easy, simple.
WARNING: This is a R-rated fic. Suggestions of rape, shounen-ai, and Darkwolf yaoi
@.@
*******************************
"…Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,
Now due to be crowned again…"
- DH Lawrence, "Snake"
*****************************
Chapter 8 – Outcast's Honour
Ryou woke up in a frenzy of fear and panic. He sat on his bed, eyes fully
dilated, sweat trickling down the sides of his face and collecting along his damp white
hair. For a few seconds, the white-haired boy simply breathed in and out, trying to
control his gasps and soothe his beating heart.
It had all been a dream. The demon, the abuse, the pain, was all a single dream
created by some fantastic part of his imagination.
After heaving a sigh of relief, Ryou felt for his clothes in the half-light, sliding
his feet onto the carpeted ground as quietly as possible. He turned around to retrieve a
pair of socks from the drawer…
…. And came face to face with a pair of glowing red eyes.
Ryou could have run away screaming at the top of his lungs. He was tempted
to do so. But now, the demon in his nightmare had grabbed his arm, holding the
white-haired boy in an iron grip.
"Ryou." The demon sneered, a mocking smile lighting up on its mirrored lips.
"You're finally.. awake."
"I-I-I," Ryou stuttered, opening his mouth and closing it a few times. There
was a long pause of silence as both figures simply stared at each other. Finally, Ryou
broke the eye contact, sliding his gaze submissively to the floor and making a move
towards the door. "I have to go to school."
Bakura immediately stopped the other, roughly jerking Ryou's arm. "You're
not going anywhere." Oddly enough, Bakura suddenly smiled, advancing towards the
boy. He slid his head against Ryou's shoulders, bracing his form possessively against
the younger boy's body. "You're mine. Every bit of your pathetic self is mine; mind,
soul, and body."
"I-I'm s-sorry, b-b-but I c-cant." Ryou stuttered, flinching slightly under the
former Darkwolf's touch. A pounding headache was throbbing at the back of his
head, obscuring his thoughts. Timidly, Ryou pushed his hands against Bakura's chest
in an attempt to pull away.
Much to Ryou's surprise, Bakura let go, allowing Ryou to distance himself.
The former Darkwolf never took his burning eyes off the other, a superior grin still
playing on his face. "You have no clue, do you?"
It was Ryou's turn to feel slightly agitated. The continuous pounding pain in
his head was not helping his normally docile temper. "A clue on what?"
"I _own_ you Ryou. You are one of mine now."
Confusion still clouded the white-haired boy's eyes. That was when he spotted
it – a half-healed scar running along his shoulder blade, previously hidden by his
loose pyjama collar. Ryou instinctively put his hand towards the wound, tracing it
gently with his fingers.
… And suddenly recoiled in shock.
There was _fur_ running along the back of his hand. Silently, Ryou held up a
trembling hand, brushing his other thumb along the white-hued fuzz. It was soft,
slightly coarse to the touch, bristling when he rubbed it backwards. Yet most of all,
Ryou could feel ever fibre, every point of the fur as he traced it absentmindedly a few
times up and down with his finger.
Without warning, the white-haired boy collapsed the ground, face utterly
appalled. His wide eyes stared accusingly Bakura, and suddenly, his headache seemed
not that important. "Bakura… what did you do?" His voice was low; the tone of
someone defeated.
"You asked me before what I was." Bakura grinned, gleefully facing Ryou's
shocked face. " I was once a Darkwolf, but became exiled and condemned by the
powers of my Millennium Ring. But now, I am a new species, human-mind and wolf-
spirit. A changeling, you could say."
Ryou recoiled under the other's alluring smile, a knot of fear growing in his
stomach. He stared at Bakura, trying edge himself further from the clearly-insane
demon's presence. This wasn't true! It had to be some fantastical nightmare. Yes,
he'll wake up, and then-
"-But after I return to my world, I'll be Darkwolf once more. Or perhaps,
something stronger, a _spell casting_ Darkwolf." Bakura continued to smile, eyes
flashing wildly. "And you know how they say miserly loves company…"
******************************************
Humans adapted poorly to change. A single cut or sore, and it took days, even
weeks to heal. Ryou was no exception.
The boy's human blood had tried to reject the changes at first, resulting in
Ryou's slightly odd appearance. The former Darkwolf snorted to himself. Hell, Ryou
looked more like a demon than he himself did!
Yet, humans thrived on change. Give or take a few weeks, and Ryou would
heal. Then, the boy would be his soul-slave for eternity, a pitiful shadow walking in
Bakura's wake.
The former Darkwolf peered through his serrated white bangs to catch a
glimpse of Ryou staring vacantly out the window.
The white-haired boy was curled on the bed, arms gently wrapped around his
knees. His face was oddly beautiful, ears gently pointed, irises glowing slightly in
their deep brown flecks.
Bakura chuckled silently. Ryou was his! The former Darkwolf slid his eyes
towards the darkening sky outside the window. It would be night time soon.
Time for another game of cat and mouse.
Or should he say, wolf and human?
************************************
It seemed like hours now. Ryou quickly glanced at his alarm clock. 11:07 pm.
Only seven minutes had passed since Bakura had left the room without a single word.
Well, perhaps a warning look, but the white-haired boy was in no mood to test the
extent of Bakura's patience when the other got back.
Silently Ryou shuffled towards his bookstand, reaching a hand towards the top
shelf. It was slightly dusty, and his fingers trailed over several mothballs before
stopping. With a slight grunt, Ryou grabbed the object he could only feel, jerking it
just enough to pull it off its well-rested position.
A book now rested in the white-haired boy's hands. It was thick and slightly
worn, the fine gold print on the cover faded from years of use. Gently, Ryou blew the
dust off the book, fingers lifting the cover and experimentally flicking through several
yellowed pages.
At last he made a stop on one page. Ryou traced his index finger along the fine
black print, reading it aloud as if to reassure himself.
"Werewolves, See: Lycanthrope, wolf-man."
"Considered a mythical creation dating back to early medieval times, werewolves
were viewed as humans who had sold their souls to the devil in exchange for the
power of a demon. The condemned humans took the form of the wolf at night to
disguise themselves, carrying out bloodthirsty rampages."
Ryou paused, frowning slightly. Was this the reason for the sudden rash of
violent murders in the past few weeks? Yet, it didn't make sense: Bakura hadn't
arrived until a week ago. Even if the other did, the white-haired demon barely seemed
to be the same pitiful creature he was on the day they first met.
"In modern times, the werewolf is still considered a terrible icon. Often, those
doomed under the curse of the werewolf would undergo the changes into a wolf-like
beast once every full moon, becoming a mindless killing machine. The werewolf can
only transfer its curse during the full moon, if its victims survive its attacks."
Survive. That was hardly the word that Ryou would use. What Bakura had
done, it was more intimate; possessively sensuous than sadistic.
Ryou snorted, closing the volume with a defeated sigh. Then again, no one
else had met a werewolf so what was there to blame? And hadn't Bakura mentioned
another name?
_Darkwolf_
Bakura was a Darkwolf, barely a bestial, horrendous beast of children's
nightmares. The white-haired demon was simply a wolf reborn in human form. A
wolf robbed of kin, spirit damned and restless.
Ryou's headache was working up again.
Years of watching grossly distorted horror flicks had made the white-haired
boy edgy and frightened. He could visualize in graphic detail the victims scream in
pitiful cries and pleas as their bodies shaped and distorted, bones crunching, voices
changing into demonic growls under the curse.
That was it, wasn't it? The difference between truth and lies. An orange could
be vocalized as tangy and sweet, but the garble of words meant nothing. In order to
understand an orange, one had to hold the fruit in their hands, taste the simmering,
juicy pulp and lick the stingy spray off from the rind.
Nothing happened.
Darkwolf Magick simply did not work that way. It was a subtle feeling
crawling beneath his skin, aware but not intrusive. He could feel this promise of
strength, this proud, reassuring aura within him, watching in dignified silence.
Tentatively, the white-haired boy closed his eyes, reaching out towards this
newly found channel of support. Immediately, the Darkwolf Magick coiled around his
touch. It danced around his hesitation, aura vibrating in eager, waiting for any
command.
Ryou hesitated, eyes clouding over in confusion. It was right at his fingertips,
all but beckoning him, but did he dare? Then again, what was there to lose?
At last the boy broke the final restraints against this strange, ancient Magick, letting it
flow freely within him, through his veins, enveloping his mind with a numbing power.
The white-haired boy closed his eyes, lips slightly parted in awe. He could feel
his already-long hair rippling, spreading across his skin like wildgrass, enveloping
him in a sudden blanket of warmth. Almost too suddenly, he dropped on all fours,
forearms strengthening and fingers tapering into blunt claws. His face elongated to
form an ivory-white muzzle, teeth growing and sharpening into visible canines. Last
came the plumed tail, stretching out behind him like a soft regal banner, billowing
under an invisible breeze.
The boy – no Darkwolf – shook his pure-white coat, stretching his forepaws
out in front of him to grab a corner of his jacket and pull it off. The fabric got caught
against one of his pointed ears, and Ryou paused in momentary confusion before
flicking his ear and detaching the offending object.
A wolf as white as a swan's wing, deemed impossible as a survivor against
Japan's unnaturally warm terrain. And yet, Ryou was no wolf. He was the exact
opposite of Bakura, a human hiding under a wolf's powerful form.
As quietly as possible, Ryou leapt onto his bed, paws caving slightly under the
mattress. He spent a few moments grappling with the latch of the window. In a burst
of cold air and rustle of windowpanes, Ryou jumped into the darkness, free from his
confines for the first time.
He landed with a soft thud on the leaf-swathed ground, digging his paws
experimentally into the soil before taking off, tongue lolling eagerly to one side of his
mouth. It was bliss, such dignity and grace, such euphoria of strength supporting him
like a towering pillar.
There was still his Millennium Ring dangling by his chest. Yet it did nothing
to bother Ryou. He trotted towards the woods imprinted already in his human mind,
wolf-instincts overpowering his normally conservative rationale.
After all, in order to understand a Darkwolf, Ryou had to be one.
*****************************************
Bakura snorted, lifting his head up from his now-motionless prey. So the boy
came to him.
The silver-furred Darkwolf continued to feast greedily into the dead deer's
warm flesh, canines biting rhythmically through the skin and muscles. True, there
were plenty humans around, breeding faster than flies, but Bakura could never acquire
a taste for their flesh. For starters, it smelt awful, somewhat akin to decayed carrion
mixed in sweaty mildew and urine. It tasted worse; dry and stringy in his mouth
without any essence of strength or nutrition.
Ryou was coming soon. And Bakura had no intention of sharing.
Not, the silver-furred Darkwolf thought to himself, that the other would dare,
but it was amusing to imagine.
There was a rustle in the nearby bushes, and Bakura immediately jerked to full
awareness, fur bristling just slightly in apprehension.
A pure white muzzle parted from the darkened leaves, extending into a face of
glistening ivory fur and gentle chestnut eyes.
Even without those strikingly familiar eyes, Bakura was able to sense Ryou's
presence. It was as if their Millennium Rings had tied their two completely separate
souls together like it tied their Power and Magick.
Ryou too recognized Bakura almost immediately. The snow-white wolf
recoiled backwards, a small whimper escaping his long lupine snout. One icy glare
from Bakura and Ryou was frozen on the spot.
The silver Darkwolf bared his jaws in a gesture of dominance. He neared the
smaller white-furred wolf, circling around the other to scrutinize Ryou under his sharp
Darkwolf eyes. Even in Darkwolf form, there was something about Ryou that set
Bakura off; something that immediately told his senses that Ryou was more than he
seemed. Bakura initially passed it as the vile human essence, repudiating it
completely. How wrong he had been.
Ryou was a Seer. The boy's hidden Magick was incredible; it all but vibrated
with power inside his body. True, Darkwolves had a naturally resource of Magick, but
rarely as strong or concentrated.
Bakura could have laughed aloud at his sheer stroke of luck. This boy – not
only could he store Magick, but he could command it! This boy was his key to
overcoming the other helpless Darkwolves. And most of all, Ryou had no clue.
::You're mine:: The Darkwolf voiced those words in his mind, forcing them
down the link he and Ryou now shared. It was the link of creator and follower, of
dominant to submissive. The silver Darkwolf prowled closer to Ryou's glistening-
white body. He rested his muzzled head against the smaller Darkwolf's back, sinking
his canines deep into the base of Ryou's neck. Ryou yelped slightly, but Bakura
silenced the other with a single look. Finally the silver Darkwolf let go, licking the
droplets of blood stunning his teeth. Bakura let his muzzle slide up along the other's
neck, tongue trailing over the soft white fur until it reached Ryou's own muzzle.
Without waiting for the other's permission, Bakura pried Ryou's sharp
incisors apart with a single jerk of his tongue, twisting his elongated head sideways to
allow room for the muzzle. The silver Darkwolf leaned his head aggressively
forwards, opening and closing his mouth to taste the sides of Ryou's muzzle. The
smaller Darkwolf's mouth was open slightly in submission, allowing Bakura's tongue
to run experimentally against Ryou's. Several times, Bakura traced his tongue
dangerously close against the smaller Darkwolf's canines, but Ryou did not move his
jaw an inch.
Bakura grinned, opening his mouth one more time to lock jaw-to-jaw with
_his_ possession. This was more than loyalty; it was obedience. Even in control of
power, Ryou dared not disobey.
:: You are chained to me for eternity. By accepting your Darkwolf gifts, you
have sold your soul under my command.:: At last Bakura parted, letting his words
sink deeply into Ryou's consciousness.
Ryou replied with a barely audible whine, a pathetic glimmer of denial
crossing his beautiful Darkwolf features. His pure-white fur glistened like snow under
the moonlight, making him appear more a ghostly apparition than a phantasic spirit of
the night.
Bakura could feel the turbulent emotions roiling in Ryou's mind wanting to
flee and rebel. He could sense the Magick within Ryou, stirred into uneasiness,
pooling into Ryou's Millennium Ring to calm its owner's apprehension.
Seconds later, Ryou bowed his head, bending his forepaws to collapse onto the
ground. The white-furred Darkwolf rested his muzzle on the cold dirt, paws extended
forwards, eyes gazing upwards in a gesture of submission.
{P-please. Just let me do one more thing.} Ryou hesitated upon feeling
Bakura's sudden flare of anger. {One more thing, and then… I'm yours. Only yours.}
A twinge of guilt travelled across Bakura's mind. True, he wanted dominance
over the other, but not to the point where Ryou was absolutely helpless without him.
Yet the promise of absolute power in controlling a Darkwolf Seer – it was a
temptation Bakura could not resist. A sneer played on his chiselled Darkwolf muzzle.
::Take your day. In fact, _enjoy_ your last days in this pathetic human world. But
after that, you are mine, just like you promised.::
The smaller, white Darkwolf closed his eyes giving a deep sigh bordering
relief and defeat. He continued to stay in his prostrate position until Bakura slid
beside him and showed him intimate… things… deemed impossible for humans to
perform.
*****************************************
Ever since the first Ritual when Bakura had marked Ryou as his own, the
former Darkwolf felt himself getting more and more possessive about the boy. He
knew that he had promised Ryou just one more day of freedom, but his possessive
Darkwolf instincts were firmly rooted against letting the other leave. What if Ryou
got into trouble, or got hurt? The former Darkwolf bristled at that thought. Ryou was
_his_ and his to touch only!
Which was the reason to why Bakura was walking along Ryou. The boy had
mentioned a need to visit some strange institution called a 'school', but the former
Darkwolf failed to listen beyond those words. It was just one more day within this
damned world, so Bakura wouldn't even care if Ryou was going to a purgatory. That
was, as long as Ryou didn't get harmed in the process.
Why did Bakura cling to the other so much? Was it because Ryou was his
_only_ companion? The former Darkwolf's eyes clouded over in pain. After all his
allies and followers, he was left with this cub, a boy more human than Darkwolf.
So, Bakura walked beside Ryou, mimicking the other's actions to blend into
this environment with only one conviction in his mind. He could not loose Ryou
because the boy was all that Bakura had.
**************************************
A shrill ringing sound jolted Bakura from his half-trance. Immediately the
former Darkwolf snared, baring his teeth, though they didn't look nearly as
impressive in his human state.
He then realized that he was still sitting on one of those damned
uncomfortable chairs, head resting on this rectangular 'table' while waiting for
Ryou's lesson to finish. Some of the other humans inside this confined room were
staring oddly at him. Bakura quickly wilted their amusement with a livid glare.
The former Darkwolf pushed himself up from the chair, Millennium Ring
jangling slightly around his chest. Ryou had given him a 'uniform' consisting of a set
of clothing, mainly a blue jacket, pants, and white shirt. Unfortunately, Bakura was a
bit larger than Ryou, so that the jacket strained against his figure, flaunting his lithe,
muscular frame.
A gaggle of girls passed by the former Darkwolf, suddenly breaking into
giggles as they approached him, winking and clutching their schoolbooks shyly.
Bakura was completely confused. He blatantly ignored the girls, arrogantly pushing
them out of the way before walking towards Ryou, who was still sitting on his desk
long after the bell, arms sprawled over a massive pile of sheets, hand scribbling
madly.
"Ryou." Bakura shook the boy's arm irately. "Why are you still here?"
The shorter white-haired boy looked up. "Homework." Ryou grunted, as if it
was the meaning to life.
The former Darkwolf snorted, forcefully pulling the other by the arm. The
desk trembled under the sudden movement, papers and pencils alike scattering onto
the ground. "I don't have the time for this." Bakura gritted his teeth, a painfully false
smile plastered on his face. "Don't make me wait."
The white-haired boy nodded. Ryou himself couldn't understand why he was
so loyal or obedient to Bakura, but it felt right, as if he was destined to this menial
task. As if this obligation meant everything to him.
Bakura grinned, nuzzling his face against Ryou's neck. The boy had taken
painstaking means to hide his unusual features and even went as far as to wear
fingerless gloves to school. Yet Bakura had yet to see how the boy could conceal
those haunting amber eyes or slightly pointed eyeteeth. No, there was no hiding the
appearance of those marked by a Darkwolf.
"Don't Bakura." Ryou timidly pushed the other away, wincing under the
former Darkwolf's indignant frown. "L-later, okay? Just let me finish school today."
Bakura decided to hold his tongue, though his temper flared and raged
erratically. He crossed his arms, making his jacket strain even more, unaware of the
looks that he was attracting from the few female stragglers still left within the room.
"Fine. I'll wait." The Darkwolf was used to waiting. Revenge was based on waiting.
Ryou mentally sighed in relief. Bakura was known to have temperamental fits
of anger. "Let's go have lunch then. I'll show you around in the cafeteria."
********************************
Bakura hated crowds. If there was anything he learned from being jammed in
a room with thousands of shrieking, yelling, jumbled-up voices, it was that they all
deserved to die. Painfully.
It didn't help that the cafeteria was drenched in an absolutely putrid scent. It
reminded the former Darkwolf of a human carcass he had once found in the Shadow
World, half rotting and oozing with maggots.
Ryou urged Bakura to continue walking. The boy seemed to be weaving
through and endless column of humans, much to the former Darkwolf's despair. Was
there no escape from these vile, pathetic, weak creatures?
Then Bakura caught it. It was a faint scent almost indiscernible among the
reek of spoiled food and human sweat. It was a dangerous scent, supernatural in aura,
tinged with confidence and power. It was the scent of one not from this world. But
there was not way – there couldn't be-
"Bakura!" Ryou called to the former Darkwolf who had suddenly stopped
walking. "Keep on moving! You're holding up the line-up."
Line-up? Bakura looked around him, clearing his mind of the previous
thought. It was probably just a figment of his imagination, a misleading scent
triggered by nostalgia. Ryou called this repugnant sea of humans cluttered randomly
in the small, enclosed space a line-up? More stunned than indignant, Bakura followed
Ryou, senses slightly overwhelmed by the noise and sheer amount of humans.
At last, after handling a pudgy human some wrinkled pieces of paper, Ryou
neared a somewhat spacious table and sat down. The white-haired boy then took a
wrapped object, neatly unfolding it to reveal a rectangular object inside. Ryou
grabbed a slice of the rectangle and took an experimental bite, chewing it a few times
before wrinkling his mouth in disgust.
"Ugh." The boy neatly folded the remainder of the edible, soft rectangle back
into the paper wrapping. "I've forgotten how gross cafeteria food tastes."
Bakura snorted, spreading his frame on the table bench, arms cushioning his
head. He half-closed his eyes in attempt to filter out the scents and noises. After he
returned to the Shadow World, he would finally drop his meaningless pretence and
seek the revenge he wanted. The former Darkwolf brushed and experimental tongue
over his teeth. First he would go after Isis, the very Darkwolf who condemned him,
and then the Council. Bakura was no longer afraid of the Seer because he too, had his
own secret weapon. That is, once Ryou got the experience…
A chorus of giggles broke the former Darkwolf from his train of thought.
Bakura irately snapped his deep chestnut eyes open, catching the figures of three girls
standing right by - or above, for that matter - him. The former Darkwolf forced down
a snarl and smiled blankly at the girls. "May I help you?" He nearly gagged at his
words, but it was necessary – he had to retain Ryou's favour as part of his grandiose
scheme.
The girls began to giggle and fidget harder. "Can we sit beside you?" The
human-girl speaking pointed to the empty space beside Bakura's sprawled frame.
Bakura sat back up, turning around to cast a pleading look at Ryou.
Unfortunately the white-haired boy was absorbed in talking to someone else, and had
strayed to another bench. Which left Bakura with these girls. Before the former
Darkwolf could even state a reply, the girls had seated themselves around him, taking
out their lunches and to prattle about the most menial things.
Never in his life had Bakura experienced such disgust for a sentient species.
Darkwolf females were strong and independent, able to hunt and fend for themselves
at will. These girls, these _human_ girls, barely seemed able to walk on their own.
They continued to talk endlessly, storming the former Darkwolf with questions and
terms Bakura could only guess at. Though he grunted and made discouraging replies,
they never seemed to give up, continuing their relentless pursuit for who-knows-what.
"So." One of the girls was continuing her own self-contrived interview. "Do
you have a girlfriend yet?"
Bakura frowned at that statement. "No."
"Did you ever have a girlfriend?" Another girl interrupted, rephrasing the
statement just slightly.
The former Darkwolf found his long-gone patience sprawling even further.
"Do I look like I have one?" He snapped, bristling his frame to try and appear as
menacing as possible.
This only made the girls 'aww' and giggle further. Sounds of 'he's free' and
'he's mine' escaped from the random noises the girls made. If Bakura was in his
Darkwolf form, he would have flattened his ears against his head in absolute defeat.
Did these humans never give up?
Like some music descended from the heavens, a sudden shrill shriek echoed
throughout the entire room. Immediately the girls 'eeped' and muttered some
goodbye's and 'here's my phone number' (in which case, Bakura was handed some
random slips of paper) and left the infinitely damned room. Almost everyone else had
left too.
He was free! Trying to restrain his excitement, the former Darkwolf stood up,
stretching his cramped muscles. He then turned to where Ryou was seated. "All right
Ryou, you better be-"
Bakura stopped as he realized that he was talking to an empty space. In fact,
the entire table where Ryou had been was empty. The former Darkwolf looked
around, spotting no sign of the white-haired boy.
He then growled, teeth clenched in frustration. Ryou had abandoned him! The
former Darkwolf stormed out of the room, pacing down the hallway in a furious blur
of speed, angrily shoving humans left and right of him. Ryou would pay for this!
*********************************************
"I said I was sorry!"
Ryou continued to chase after the furious Darkwolf. He had accidentally
forgotten about Bakura in his furious dash to class, resulting in a not-very-happy
Bakura. As in an absolutely livid Bakura.
The former Darkwolf suddenly whipped his head around, grabbing Ryou by
the arms. His fingers gripped painfully into Ryou's skin like iron clamps. "Sorry?"
Bakura was all but frothing now. "You _leave_ me, and you say you're fucking
sorry?!"
Ryou winced under the other's glare. This was Not Good. "I-I-" The boy
stuttered, trying to explain his situation. Not that he expected Bakura to understand,
but at least the other could have the patience to try.
"Yes, _you_!" Bakura spat the word out like acid. "The world is all about
_you_. It's all about how _you_ feel, and how _you_ want it to be. I take no part in
your world."
Ryou was at a loss of words. The boy looked down, biting his lip to stop a
retort he knew would only further anger the other.
The former Darkwolf seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. He stood there
for a few moments, fists clenched in anger, eyebrows furrowed in reminiscence of
personal failure and agony. Even now his back still burned in pain though the wound
had long healed.
It was this wasn't it? He was the scapegoat, the one whom everyone could
make fun of. Hell, even among _humans_ he was still considered the inferior, the
outcast.
The former Darkwolf found himself gazing right into Ryou's deep amber eyes.
For a moment, he could sense everything within those soft brown pools of light, as if
the very heavens had opened their secret to him. And he too expressed his darkness,
his hidden secret of anguish and loss in that single moment of interaction.
Bakura pulled away, willing himself to go no further. In a strangled cry of
frustration, the former Darkwolf ran, leaving the white-haired boy and his inquisitive
amber eyes behind.
Leaving his memories of anguish and despair behind.
*************************************
Ryou didn't know what he too. He simply stood, feet riveted to the spot,
watching Bakura leave. What were those emotions he had felt when looking into the
former Darkwolf's troubled eyes? Ryou wanted to chase after the other, to calm him,
to reassure him and soften Bakura's violent temper, but found himself without the
courage or motivation. The other's fierce, wild spirit was simply too much for Ryou
to tame.
Now the boy walked alone, stunned. Just like this and it was over. True he still
had the mark of a Darkwolf, but this Magick was no longer needed, and useless
without Bakura's presence. The other had finally left him, and all the supernatural
dealings and encounters would disappear. Ryou was just an ordinary person now.
A soft sigh escaped from the boy's lips. Ryou silently shuffled on his way
back home, ignoring the feeling of loss and confusion whirling at the back of his
mind. He turned at a nearby alleyway, picking his way through the mottled boxes and
garbage. His house was just a few blocks down, a sanctuary of the ordinary, and from
the look on Bakura's face, he doubted if the strange, almost-insane Darkwolf would
ever return.
The boy did not notice an obstruction until he hit it. Shocked, the boy looked
up, eyes catching a rather handsome face, grinning madly in the shadows. Wild violet-
red irises clashed against his soft amber ones.
Ryou mentally cursed to himself. It was getting dark now, and he highly
doubted that anyone would hear him if he screamed. The person hovering in front of
him did not look friendly.
"Excuse me." The white-haired boy politely shuffled to one side of the person.
He was immediately blocked by several others, flanking the lead figure. The boy's
heart plummeted, chest constricting in fear. "I-I need to go home."
Without warning the lead violet-red eyed figure grabbed Ryou roughly by the
chin, jerking the white-haired boy's face upwards. A prominent sneer played on the
figure's face. "Look. We found the bitch-boy yet again."
Ryou wrinkled his nose as the figure's long, straggled platinum-blonde hair
tickled his face. He tried to wriggle away from the searing grip, one arm pushing
away the other's elbow, but to no avail.
"Looks like he didn't learn his lesson well enough, Ishtar." Another thick
voice piped up.
The lead figure, the one holding Ryou like a caged dove, grinned, eyes
flashing wildly. For a moment it reminded the white-haired boy of Bakura, but there
was no sign of compassion or hurt in Ishtar's smoky-violet eyes.
In a flurry of jagged platinum hair and tanned skin, Ishtar was on Ryou,
pressing his lips firmly against the white-haired boy's mouth. Ryou's eyes widened in
surprise, his muffled retort gagged and choked by the other's smothering touch.
A single moment of air, and then Ishtar was on him again, the other's tongue
plunging deeply into Ryou's mouth, tracing over the boy's teeth in anticipation.
Ryou panicked. In a decision spurred more by fear than self-defence, the
white-haired boy bit down, clamping his teeth into the other's tongue. He could feel
Ishtar's foreign blood dripping like acid down his throat and he choked back a bile-
induced cough.
Although Ishtar immediately withdrew his mouth, he seemed more amused
then furious. The platinum-haired ringleader simply threw back his head in mocking
laughter. The sound burned Ryou's ears, making the boy involuntarily flinch.
"Nice, _bitch_." Ishtar sneered. He wiped the blood dripping out of mouth
with one hand. "But I'm done playing."
Ishtar grabbed Ryou's shirt, pulling the white-haired boy closer towards him.
He watched amusedly as Ryou whimpered in protest. Abandoning all patience
together, Ishtar began working at Ryou's belt, tossing it off before undoing the boy's
pants. This process had to be as psychologically damaging as physical. Ishtar was
going to make the white-haired boy learn the word 'suffer' all over again.
Bakura had never gone this far. Ryou tried to block the pain by focusing his
attention on the other he had lost. Glassy tears trickled down the white-haired boy's
eyes, and he wanted to scream and shout to the world his agony, but it was useless.
Had this been what Bakura had felt? This burning, this searing, this absolute removal
of all his dignity and innocence?
And most of all, Ishtar wouldn't stop. The other had taken the pleasure into
strapping the blade of a razor right by his abdomen, so that whenever he forced his
hips downwards, it would sink and plunge into Ryou's thighs, freeing thick rivulets of
blood.
Ryou shook his frame brokenly, mouth contorted into an expression of
absolute revulsion. Why wouldn't the other just take that blade, slip it around his neck
and end this pain forever? Ryou just couldn't take this pain anymore! His mind was
stuck in a frenzied loop of fear.
Ishtar was moving again. Amidst the jeers and shouts of encouragement, Ishtar
continued to jerk his sweating body, one tongue running along his lips in pleasure.
The platinum-haired ringleader arched his body once again, the blade flashing
wickedly at hip-level.
Ryou cringed, anticipating the pain. It never came. Yet instead of looking up,
or contemplating his freedom, the boy curled into a pitiful, trembling ball, letting the
tears flow freely down his stinging face.
The white-haired boy stayed almost oblivious to the screams, shouts, and roars
of rage. He ignored the splatters of warm liquid suddenly raining against his pitiful
frame, drowned out the cries of despair, and paid no heed to the crunching of bones or
the final patter of desperate footsteps disappearing into the darkness.
Ryou felt his head being roughly jerked up again. The boy winced, shuddering
uncontrollably, unable to stop his eyes from looking into his oppressor's.
Instead of those demonic ruby-violet irises, he found himself staring at a pair
of dark hazel eyes. Ones flecked with bare traces of soft-brown, like beams of
compassion in the plane of indifference.
The boy said nothing and simply collapsed into a pitiful bundle, not even
noticing when the other supported him just enough to kneel. Ryou buried his face into
the other's strong, familiar chest, shoulders heaving up and down in broken sobs. All
that remained to him was the pain.
The presence by him waited. A presence of born of darkness but meant to
support the light.
************************************
The midnight moonlight shone on two figures of silver and white treading like
ghosts in the shadows. The smaller of the two hesitated, pausing in apprehension only
to continue with a nudge from the other.
Throughout the entire ordeal Bakura had said nothing. What was there for the
Darkwolf to say? He had felt Ryou's agony through the strange bond they now
shared, arriving almost too late to salvage the last of the boy's dignity.
Then who was indeed the more pitiful? Him or Ryou? It was ironic that they
had both been violated, shattered, and abused. And they both continued their façade,
hiding their deepest grief from each other as if afraid of the other's presence. Bakura
denied it as the truth. His pain would be compensated by his revenge.
Already, Bakura had felt the sweet embrace of revenge. He felt the absolute
power and control when he had advanced upon Ishtar, using his Millennium Ring to
steal the other's vile soul and rip the remainder of the ringleader's body into bloody
shards.
Ryou mentally flinched as Bakura neared him. The white-furred Darkwolf
recoiled under Bakura's touch, quavering in fear.
The silver Darkwolf sighed. So? This was life – eat or be eaten. Ryou had to
cope with it.
Yet, why did the other look so pitiful? What made Bakura want to side beside
the other and drive away the fear with reassurance?
::It's okay, Ryou:: Bakura sent a half-comforting pulse through their mindlink.
::I'll… protect you.:: The last words sounded lame and slightly foreign.
Ryou clung to them with an insatiable desperation. {Th-they'll get me!} There
was an obvious hysteria in the boy's tone. {They'll find me and-}
::-I'll stop them.:: The silver Darkwolf drowned the last of Ryou's fear with
his own confidence and anger. ::I'll make them all pay.::
Silver and white. Considered the colours or shades of purity, of innocence, of
youth and vigour.
They were lies, like the lies of falsified dreams and hopes, scattering
inspiration and creating the descent into despair.
Silver and white. Colours of despair, but paired because of their similarity in
tone, their startling compliment of shades.
But most of all, paired for their resemblance.
*******************************************************
Bakura jerked up from his restful state. The silver Darkwolf raised his head,
suddenly alert. Invisible waves of tension wafted in the air currents. The night chatter
and rustles had fallen silent. An intruder was coming.
Bakura gently nuzzled Ryou to get up. The more experienced Darkwolf lead
the way through the dense trees and darkened foliage, trusting only his wolven senses
in this wilderness. It was a supernatural scent, the familiar aura of one not from this
world. His Millennium Ring began to glow just slightly, one of the pointed shards
hanging from the circular rim suddenly pointing to his left with a life of its own.
The silver Darkwolf did not question his Ring's power. He knew that there
was something that attracted his Ring, something very powerful that lay in that
direction. Recklessly he continued on.
Bakura was so engrossed in his chase that he almost failed to recognize the
target.
Right in front of the Darkwolf stood a figure Bakura mistook at first for a
human. It was a lithe, muscular figure, eyes glowing an unnatural red. The twin set of
canines protruding from this figure's mouth falsified the human-like pretence.
A rage fuelled by centuries of anger boiled within the silver Darkwolf's blood.
This creature standing in front of him was one of _them_. Yet it was impossible. How
could one of _them_ be here, in this human world? Moreover, what was _it_ doing
here?
"Darkwolf."
Bakura heard the other acknowledge him in a cold, detached voice full of
scorn and disdain. The silver Darkwolf immediately bared his teeth, fur bristling and
hackles rising. He let the single word escape from his lupine mouth.
"Vampire." A pity vampires did not comprehend Darkwolf speech.
Both predators, both powerful, destructive, ferocious creatures of the night
circled each other warily. They sized the other up, trying to form a strategy as they
continued pacing.
The tension rose between the two bristling creatures. At last Bakura made the
first strike. More impatient than the other, he doggedly leapt for the vampire's
exposed side, ivory incisors gleaming.
In the very last moment, the vampire pulled away, swinging his frame to
Bakura's left. The blood-hunter's thick crown of hair blocked the Darkwolf's vision,
causing Bakura to loose balance and fall ungainly to the ground.
The vampire immediately struck in that moment of awkwardness. His
unnaturally powerful hands clamped Bakura's jaws shut while his fangs sought for the
Darkwolf's struggling throat.
Bakura growled in indignation, continuing to avoid the vampire's incisors.
Two could play at that game.
The silver Darkwolf forced his muscles to relax as if hypnotized by the
vampire's aura. Bakura's dark-brown eyes noted shrewdly the other's gain of
confidence. Deception was the key to winning.
Just as the vampire coiled, ready like a serpent to strike, Bakura lunged out,
breaking free from the other's grip. The silver Darkwolf dropped to the ground, soft
belly scraping the ground. Without a moment's hesitation he slipped between the
vampire's legs and twisted his body into the air. Jaws wide open and flashing, the
Darkwolf leapt straight at the vampire's exposed spine.
The other reacted almost too belatedly. Bakura felt his teeth clamp onto something,
but it simply tore off like fake skin. It tasted oddly of leather, and stung the
Darkwolf's sensitive mouth. He angrily spat out the offending material.
Both opponents had regressed back to circling each other. They glared
menacingly, dark brown against crimson red, wary and apprehensive. Now they had a
taste of the other's potential and skills.
The vampire stepped into the moonlight that filtered between the canopy of
trees. A familiar design gleamed in the light, causing Bakura to temporarily lose his
concentration.
The silver Darkwolf blinked. It was impossible and downright ironic.
Engraved like a tattoo on the skin of the vampire's neck was the insignia of
the Darkwolves. Not just any insignia, but the Darkwolf symbol of rejection and
disgrace. It was the sign of the branded; the punished; the hated.
Bakura would have laughed. It was hard for him in wolven form to do
anything similar to laughter, but his jaws were open in a silent grin, tongue lolling in
amusement.
The vampire looked offended. The other stopped pacing and glared, crossing
his arms irately. "What's so funny, _Darkwolf_?" He spat out the word just as
distastefully as before.
Bakura ignored the other's anger, grinning wildly. He cocked his head to one
side in a sign of passiveness. Upon seeing the other relax slightly, he began to shift,
taking his distinctly human form. His white hair shimmered slightly in the filters of
moonlight.
"You call yourself a vampire?"
"Shut up, Darkwolf." The other bristled angrily at that comment, assuming an
offensive stance once more.
Bakura raised his hands to signal off the aggression. "I'm not here to pick a
fight with you, vampire. You'll find it hard fighting someone who does not support
his kind."
The vampire's features were clouded in confusion and obvious suspicion. "I
have no time for your riddles." His rich voice bordered impatience.
The former Darkwolf inwardly grinned. No doubt that this vampire was of the
higher ranks, possibly of noble vampire birth. A scheme started working in his mind.
After all, weren't vampires considered lethal enemies to the Darkwolves? What if…
"I am an outcast of my kind. They have rejected me, and I claim to be a
Darkwolf no more."
The other seemed unimpressed. "You still use Darkwolf Magick. As long as
you do so, I shall mark you as one of their kind."
Bakura inwardly snarled. How dare the other make such assumptions? "You
have been branded as a Darkwolf _prisoner_ and yet, I make no assumptions about
you. I have been mistreated by my kind and now seek only revenge. How else can I
get this revenge without using my powers?"
The vampire said nothing for a while. Something beside the blood-hunter
fidgeted uncomfortably in the silence, once hidden in the darkened foliage.
Bakura's eyes widened. There was another beside the vampire. One that
looked an unnatural amount like the vampire himself. Except, there was no
supernatural aura coming from this figure.
"You are carrying with you a human stowaway." The former Darkwolf
regarded this smaller human curiously. "I wonder, is he to be used for sustenance or
maybe as something else?"
"Do not question my antics and I won't ask yours." The vampire laid a
protective hand over the boy's shoulder. "You too have a follower."
The former Darkwolf said nothing. So much for playing advantages. He let
Ryou walk closer behind him to signal his equal protectiveness.
The other, still in wolven form, suddenly froze. {Bakura… I _know_ him.}
Considering the fact that Ryou was staring at the human, not the vampire - and
that Ryou had probably never seen a vampire in his life - Bakura decided to press his
curiousity. ::Where have you seen him?::
Instead of answering, Ryou too shifted, figure gently melding back to his
original human form. He was slightly weary after the change, wavering on both legs
before regaining his stance.
"Yuugi." The white-haired boy beckoned to the smaller figure tucked behind
the protective vampire. "It's me. Ryou."
The other boy, Yuugi's, violet eyes widened at an alarming rate. He poked his
soft spiky red and black hair out from the vampire's frame. "R-Ryou?"
Mutely Ryou nodded. Yuugi opened his mouth to say more but the vampire
cut him off.
"Enough." The vampire glared at Bakura with his ferocious crimson eyes.
"We shall continue on forgetting what has happened." The statement was directed at
the former Darkwolf.
Bakura grinned. He could see the apprehension in the vampire's eyes.
"Maybe, maybe not. My name is Bakura. And should our paths cross again, let it be
eventful."
After some reluctance the other consented. "Yami. That is close enough to my
name." He curtly turned away, dark cape trailing after him. "Good-bye, Darkwolf."
And with that, both vampire and human consort turned around and left.
Ryou blinked a few times. He then noted Bakura's intense glare and cringed.
"S-sorry. I shouldn't have interrupted."
Yet, instead of inflicting punishment, the former Darkwolf simply laughed.
His laughter echoed among the trees, stained with insanity. "No. This was perfect.
You see, we are related in more ways than one."
His eyes narrowed at the vampire's disappearing frame. "It comes to me now,
all the pieces. All I have to do is wait. I am patient." Bakura licked his lips in
anticipation, giving a few brief chuckles before turning away. Ryou followed.
It would only be a few hours before daybreak. Enough time to signal a portal
to the Shadow Realm.
Revenge was waiting for him.
******************************************
End notes:
Zoo: @.@ Wow! Notice how our chapters keep on getting progressively longer?
FC: ^-^V I guess we just have too much to write about!
Eevee muse: …Or too little.
Zoo: *scratches head* How would that work? If you had to little to write about-
Flareon muse: Then you would replace it with useless content ^_^
Zoo: Oh! *after a moment it finally clicks* -_-;;; Oh….
FC: Yay! I can finally update! After about a month's vacation! XD
Zoo: ;_; Gomen! Sorry for the slow update to you who still read this~
Eevee & Flareon muse: Please R&R ^.^