Chapter 3
Wish to be Normal
Bakura ran into the bright sun. He had grown a lot from when he was just an infant, and he was 8 years old now. Living in the bright sun had tanned his skin, it was a lighter tan then most Egyptians had, but it was a tan. But he still had white hair although it was longer, and his eyes were still a rusty brownish-red.
Bakura broke into a smile as he saw the other children of the village play with a ball at the town square near the shrine to Soknegrophades, the Death God's shadow power, although they were never allowed to play in it. Everyday he'd try to play with them too, but everyday it was the same. He was different, and that's why the other children didn't like him, feared him even, but he was persistent and everyday he'd try with hopes that something might change.
There were 7 children in the town square, not including Bakura. They were playing with 2 small balls, made of plant fibers tightly packed in a leather covering. The game was called handball and there were 2 teams. Each team threw the ball from their side to the other, trying to hit their opponents on the other side. It was a fun and physical sport and the children enjoyed playing it in their free time.
A small girl that Bakura knew as Tutu, with shoulder length dark hair and golden-brown skin, threw a ball and it went off course, landing in the sand in front of Bakura. Bakura picked the ball up as Tutu went to retrieve it.
As Tutu, only about Bakura's age, walked up to him looking slightly fearful, Bakura held the ball out. "You lost your ball." He smiled at her sweetly.
Tutu took the ball from him quickly, avoiding any contact with him. She took a few steps back, keeping a close eye on him before spinning around and beginning to run away from him, holding the ball tightly to her chest.
"Wait!" He said, taking a step forward.
Tutu stopped and turned her head to look at him.
"Can I play too?"
Tutu contemplated Bakura's request for a moment. She turned her head forward after a moment of thought and ran off towards the other children.
Bakura put his head down and let out a long sigh. It would never be any different. He would always be different.
Just as he was about to turn around and go back to where he had came, the oldest boy, known as Ipy, the son of a scribe, approached him. Bakura was pretty tall for his age, and Ipy was only about half a foot taller. Bakura looked up at Ipy.
"You want to play?" Ipy asked. He seemed to be about 10 years old. He had a blackish braid that hung off the right side of his head, the rest of his tan scalp was completely bald and his eyebrows had been cleanly shaved right off.
Bakura smiled, "Yes, please."
"I guess you could play this time...only because the other team needs another player to even out the number."
Bakura's smile went from ear to ear. Never before had he played with the other children.
Bakura got on the playing field. He already knew all the rules because he had watched the other children play so many times before.
The game started up again moments later. Bakura was now among the other children.
The game was quite unfair. The older boys were on one team and the younger children were on the other. So it was obviously one sided. The older boys picked the children off one by one, game after game. The younger ones hadn't won even one game.
It had become quite late and the sun was barely touching the horizon. The sky was a red-orange and it turned into a flushed yellow along the horizon. The few clouds there were had glowing, golden edges as they began to depart from the sky.
"One more game!" Ipy announced, throwing one of the leather balls into the air and then catching it again in the opposite hand from which he had thrown it. A devious smile marked his face.
The final game went quick. The younger children were not much of a match for the older boys. They quickly disposed of the younger ones,
until the only one standing on the younger team was Bakura.
Ipy chucked a ball straight at Bakura's face. Bakura bent forward and the ball missed the top of his head by only a few inches and landed in the sand behind him.
Bakura quickly grabbed up the ball and fired it right back at Ipy, hitting him hard in the nose.
Ipy stood there, stunned. A small bit of blood drizzled from his nostril.
Bakura had just violated one of the most important rules in the game: Ipy hates to loose. Never hit him. Ever!
Everyone stared from Ipy to Bakura and back to Ipy. None of the younger children had ever gotten Ipy out before in fear of what he might do to them.
Bakura looked at Ipy and then his own hands, slightly stunned about the impulsive mistake he had made.
Ipy touched his nose and wiped some of the blood away. He looked as his tan fingers covered in the shiny, red liquid. He stared at them for a moment before turning his attention to Bakura.
Anger burned in Ipy's eyes as he jumped on top of the white-haired boy, knocking him to the ground and restricting him to limited motion. Ipy began to pummel the younger boy with his fists. He hit Bakura in the face and the chest mainly.
Bakura squirmed and took the hits but he didn't scream or cry. He had been brought up tough, because he was the son of two servants, making him a servant himself, and even if his masters were kind people who treated him and his family well, his father had treated him harshly.
"How dare you, you little brat!" Ipy yelled, repeatedly punching Bakura.
At that moment, mixed thoughts and emotions rushed to Bakura's brain all at the same time and something burned inside him, like a blazing fire. Something in his mind clicked and energy rushed throughout him.
Bakura's hand shot upward and wrapped itself around Ipy's neck. In one powerful kick, Bakura had Ipy on the ground. Bakura then jumped on top of Ipy and reared back his fist, aiming the blow right at Ipy's face. The other children gasped as Bakura's fist made contact with Ipy's nose. It cracked and seemed to flatten with the force Bakura had applied.
Ipy screamed pitifully.
Bakura shook his head and looked at his fist washed with Ipy's blood. He then looked at Ipy, whose nose was in a new position and whose face was masked with blood. Bakura thought for a moment about what he had done, he had had no control over himself.
An adult heard Ipy's screams and came running to the scene. Coincidentally, it was Ipy's mother.
"Ipy!" She screamed, rushing over to where the boys had been combating in the sand. "Get away from my son, you little beast!" Ipy's mother knocked Bakura away from Ipy.
Ipy's mother helped Ipy stand and she brushed him off. Kneeling in front of him, she cleaned some of the blood off of his face with her white dress. "Oh, darling, your beautiful nose!"
Ipy sniveled in response to his mother's nurturing and his broken nose.
Bakura stood up and wiped himself off, then took a step toward them when Ipy's mother put a hand out to indicate that he shouldn't take another step. This confused Bakura because all he wanted to do was apologize.
"You..." Ipy's mother pointed an accusing finger at Bakura. "You...son of Seth, stay away from my family."
Bakura stared at them sadly with his large, rusty brownish-red colored eyes.
Ipy's mother looked haunted by Bakura's gaze. She grabbed Ipy's hand and pulled him away quickly, back to their domicile. The other children stared at Bakura momentarily before they all turned and ran from him in fear.
"But...I didn't mean to..." Bakura whispered to himself. He sighed and turned back toward his master's house.
His shadow cast out long upon his path as he walked toward his home. Guilt weighed itself heavily upon Bakura's young heart. He kicked the sand as he walked as thoughts that he had pondered many times before ran through his head, 'Why do I have to be so different? If I had been a normal boy I bet Ipy's mother wouldn't have gotten as mad at me. Just because I have lighter skin, and white hair, and reddish eyes people hate me. I wish I were normal.'
Bakura stopped walking and looked at a pair of legs. Looking upwards a little more he could see they were the legs of Paneb.
"Why are you so roughed up, were you fighting?!" Paneb demanded to know.
Bakura remembered what the woman had called him, 'son of Seth'. Was he the actual son of the evil god? He'd been called a son of Seth so many times by so many people but he had never questioned it before. "No...daddy."
Paneb gave Bakura a swift kick in the gut and Bakura landed on his back a few feet away. "How dare you call me your father, you little wretch! How many times do I have to tell you? Seth is your father! We only kept you because your mother fell in love with you. I remember the day you were born, the day Seth came to Earth. Now, get out of my site before I kick you harder!"
Bakura scrambled to his feet and stumbled away into the house, doubled over with pain.
Bakura had regained his stature when he had entered the servant quarters.
Meryt was in the servant quarters cleaning the woven straw beds and the floor, her back to Bakura. She didn't notice him enter.
"Mommy?" He begged for her attention.
Meryt turned around, "Bakura..." She saw the bruises and cuts he had from being punched. "Bakura, darling, what happened to you?"
Bakura hustled over to his mother and hugged her waist, snuggling his head in her stomach, again large and round, pregnant with her second child that was due any day, now.
Meryt stroked Bakura's white hair. It was unevenly cut and it naturally stuck up in strange directions. There was an odd moment of silence as she stroked his hair and he did not respond.
"Did Paneb do this to you?" Meryt tried to sound calm but was a little worked up because she knew that Paneb never learned to like Bakura and would sometimes beat him. Because Paneb was so big, there was nothing a little, delicate woman like Meryt could do.
"No, mommy..."
"How did you get hurt so badly?" Meryt was concerned; what if not only Paneb was beating on her child, but what if other people had begun beating on him as well.
"Mommy, is Seth my real daddy?" He looked up at his mother with anxious eyes.
Meryt was a bit taken aback. "Of course not, sweetie...Why is it that you ask me this?"
"Because I'm so different."
"Different? Bakura...you're a human like all the rest of us."
"I look different. Everyone else has normal hair, and normal skin, and normal eyes..."
"What's on the outside doesn't matter. It's the inside that matters. You have feelings, you're intelligent, you breathe the air, and you have a heart that beats. Just because you're different doesn't mean that you aren't beautiful." Meryt crouched down on one knee so she was about Bakura's height. "You're differences make you who you are, and that, to me, is beautiful."
"Mommy...I don't want to be beautiful, I want to be normal."
"No one is really normal, we all look and act different."
"But I look too different. Why can't I change the way I look?"
"I love the way you look now. You're a wonderful child. If you changed yourself at all it would make me very sad."
"Okay, I wont make you sad, mommy." He wrapped his arms around his mother's neck and softly hugged her.
Meryt hugged him too. She ran her fingers over his bare back, for he was only wearing a kilt as most young boys do, and she felt the crevices of scars and new cuts. Her eyes welled with tears as she thought of what her son had faced and what he would probably have to face all of his life. She sniffled lightly.
Bakura pushed away from her and looked into her tearing eyes. He pushed a lock of hair from her face and placed it over her ear. "Why are you crying mommy?"
Meryt faked a smile, but tears still found their way through her eyes. She softly stroked his hair again. "I'm crying because I love you." Meryt was afraid to tell Bakura what she predicted his future to be like; he was only a young child, after all.
"I love you too, but I'm not crying. I thought love was supposed to make you happy."
"Loving someone does make you happy, but you can also feel their pain and you can feel their sadness."
"I feel sad that you're sad, mommy. But you don't have to cry. I want you to be happy, that way we can both be happy."
Meryt pulled Bakura toward her and held him tightly. She continued to cry, but was relieved that Bakura didn't seem to fully understand.
Bakura held his arms around his mother, unsure of what was going on. "I love you. You're are my mommy and my best friend."
Wish to be Normal
Bakura ran into the bright sun. He had grown a lot from when he was just an infant, and he was 8 years old now. Living in the bright sun had tanned his skin, it was a lighter tan then most Egyptians had, but it was a tan. But he still had white hair although it was longer, and his eyes were still a rusty brownish-red.
Bakura broke into a smile as he saw the other children of the village play with a ball at the town square near the shrine to Soknegrophades, the Death God's shadow power, although they were never allowed to play in it. Everyday he'd try to play with them too, but everyday it was the same. He was different, and that's why the other children didn't like him, feared him even, but he was persistent and everyday he'd try with hopes that something might change.
There were 7 children in the town square, not including Bakura. They were playing with 2 small balls, made of plant fibers tightly packed in a leather covering. The game was called handball and there were 2 teams. Each team threw the ball from their side to the other, trying to hit their opponents on the other side. It was a fun and physical sport and the children enjoyed playing it in their free time.
A small girl that Bakura knew as Tutu, with shoulder length dark hair and golden-brown skin, threw a ball and it went off course, landing in the sand in front of Bakura. Bakura picked the ball up as Tutu went to retrieve it.
As Tutu, only about Bakura's age, walked up to him looking slightly fearful, Bakura held the ball out. "You lost your ball." He smiled at her sweetly.
Tutu took the ball from him quickly, avoiding any contact with him. She took a few steps back, keeping a close eye on him before spinning around and beginning to run away from him, holding the ball tightly to her chest.
"Wait!" He said, taking a step forward.
Tutu stopped and turned her head to look at him.
"Can I play too?"
Tutu contemplated Bakura's request for a moment. She turned her head forward after a moment of thought and ran off towards the other children.
Bakura put his head down and let out a long sigh. It would never be any different. He would always be different.
Just as he was about to turn around and go back to where he had came, the oldest boy, known as Ipy, the son of a scribe, approached him. Bakura was pretty tall for his age, and Ipy was only about half a foot taller. Bakura looked up at Ipy.
"You want to play?" Ipy asked. He seemed to be about 10 years old. He had a blackish braid that hung off the right side of his head, the rest of his tan scalp was completely bald and his eyebrows had been cleanly shaved right off.
Bakura smiled, "Yes, please."
"I guess you could play this time...only because the other team needs another player to even out the number."
Bakura's smile went from ear to ear. Never before had he played with the other children.
Bakura got on the playing field. He already knew all the rules because he had watched the other children play so many times before.
The game started up again moments later. Bakura was now among the other children.
The game was quite unfair. The older boys were on one team and the younger children were on the other. So it was obviously one sided. The older boys picked the children off one by one, game after game. The younger ones hadn't won even one game.
It had become quite late and the sun was barely touching the horizon. The sky was a red-orange and it turned into a flushed yellow along the horizon. The few clouds there were had glowing, golden edges as they began to depart from the sky.
"One more game!" Ipy announced, throwing one of the leather balls into the air and then catching it again in the opposite hand from which he had thrown it. A devious smile marked his face.
The final game went quick. The younger children were not much of a match for the older boys. They quickly disposed of the younger ones,
until the only one standing on the younger team was Bakura.
Ipy chucked a ball straight at Bakura's face. Bakura bent forward and the ball missed the top of his head by only a few inches and landed in the sand behind him.
Bakura quickly grabbed up the ball and fired it right back at Ipy, hitting him hard in the nose.
Ipy stood there, stunned. A small bit of blood drizzled from his nostril.
Bakura had just violated one of the most important rules in the game: Ipy hates to loose. Never hit him. Ever!
Everyone stared from Ipy to Bakura and back to Ipy. None of the younger children had ever gotten Ipy out before in fear of what he might do to them.
Bakura looked at Ipy and then his own hands, slightly stunned about the impulsive mistake he had made.
Ipy touched his nose and wiped some of the blood away. He looked as his tan fingers covered in the shiny, red liquid. He stared at them for a moment before turning his attention to Bakura.
Anger burned in Ipy's eyes as he jumped on top of the white-haired boy, knocking him to the ground and restricting him to limited motion. Ipy began to pummel the younger boy with his fists. He hit Bakura in the face and the chest mainly.
Bakura squirmed and took the hits but he didn't scream or cry. He had been brought up tough, because he was the son of two servants, making him a servant himself, and even if his masters were kind people who treated him and his family well, his father had treated him harshly.
"How dare you, you little brat!" Ipy yelled, repeatedly punching Bakura.
At that moment, mixed thoughts and emotions rushed to Bakura's brain all at the same time and something burned inside him, like a blazing fire. Something in his mind clicked and energy rushed throughout him.
Bakura's hand shot upward and wrapped itself around Ipy's neck. In one powerful kick, Bakura had Ipy on the ground. Bakura then jumped on top of Ipy and reared back his fist, aiming the blow right at Ipy's face. The other children gasped as Bakura's fist made contact with Ipy's nose. It cracked and seemed to flatten with the force Bakura had applied.
Ipy screamed pitifully.
Bakura shook his head and looked at his fist washed with Ipy's blood. He then looked at Ipy, whose nose was in a new position and whose face was masked with blood. Bakura thought for a moment about what he had done, he had had no control over himself.
An adult heard Ipy's screams and came running to the scene. Coincidentally, it was Ipy's mother.
"Ipy!" She screamed, rushing over to where the boys had been combating in the sand. "Get away from my son, you little beast!" Ipy's mother knocked Bakura away from Ipy.
Ipy's mother helped Ipy stand and she brushed him off. Kneeling in front of him, she cleaned some of the blood off of his face with her white dress. "Oh, darling, your beautiful nose!"
Ipy sniveled in response to his mother's nurturing and his broken nose.
Bakura stood up and wiped himself off, then took a step toward them when Ipy's mother put a hand out to indicate that he shouldn't take another step. This confused Bakura because all he wanted to do was apologize.
"You..." Ipy's mother pointed an accusing finger at Bakura. "You...son of Seth, stay away from my family."
Bakura stared at them sadly with his large, rusty brownish-red colored eyes.
Ipy's mother looked haunted by Bakura's gaze. She grabbed Ipy's hand and pulled him away quickly, back to their domicile. The other children stared at Bakura momentarily before they all turned and ran from him in fear.
"But...I didn't mean to..." Bakura whispered to himself. He sighed and turned back toward his master's house.
His shadow cast out long upon his path as he walked toward his home. Guilt weighed itself heavily upon Bakura's young heart. He kicked the sand as he walked as thoughts that he had pondered many times before ran through his head, 'Why do I have to be so different? If I had been a normal boy I bet Ipy's mother wouldn't have gotten as mad at me. Just because I have lighter skin, and white hair, and reddish eyes people hate me. I wish I were normal.'
Bakura stopped walking and looked at a pair of legs. Looking upwards a little more he could see they were the legs of Paneb.
"Why are you so roughed up, were you fighting?!" Paneb demanded to know.
Bakura remembered what the woman had called him, 'son of Seth'. Was he the actual son of the evil god? He'd been called a son of Seth so many times by so many people but he had never questioned it before. "No...daddy."
Paneb gave Bakura a swift kick in the gut and Bakura landed on his back a few feet away. "How dare you call me your father, you little wretch! How many times do I have to tell you? Seth is your father! We only kept you because your mother fell in love with you. I remember the day you were born, the day Seth came to Earth. Now, get out of my site before I kick you harder!"
Bakura scrambled to his feet and stumbled away into the house, doubled over with pain.
Bakura had regained his stature when he had entered the servant quarters.
Meryt was in the servant quarters cleaning the woven straw beds and the floor, her back to Bakura. She didn't notice him enter.
"Mommy?" He begged for her attention.
Meryt turned around, "Bakura..." She saw the bruises and cuts he had from being punched. "Bakura, darling, what happened to you?"
Bakura hustled over to his mother and hugged her waist, snuggling his head in her stomach, again large and round, pregnant with her second child that was due any day, now.
Meryt stroked Bakura's white hair. It was unevenly cut and it naturally stuck up in strange directions. There was an odd moment of silence as she stroked his hair and he did not respond.
"Did Paneb do this to you?" Meryt tried to sound calm but was a little worked up because she knew that Paneb never learned to like Bakura and would sometimes beat him. Because Paneb was so big, there was nothing a little, delicate woman like Meryt could do.
"No, mommy..."
"How did you get hurt so badly?" Meryt was concerned; what if not only Paneb was beating on her child, but what if other people had begun beating on him as well.
"Mommy, is Seth my real daddy?" He looked up at his mother with anxious eyes.
Meryt was a bit taken aback. "Of course not, sweetie...Why is it that you ask me this?"
"Because I'm so different."
"Different? Bakura...you're a human like all the rest of us."
"I look different. Everyone else has normal hair, and normal skin, and normal eyes..."
"What's on the outside doesn't matter. It's the inside that matters. You have feelings, you're intelligent, you breathe the air, and you have a heart that beats. Just because you're different doesn't mean that you aren't beautiful." Meryt crouched down on one knee so she was about Bakura's height. "You're differences make you who you are, and that, to me, is beautiful."
"Mommy...I don't want to be beautiful, I want to be normal."
"No one is really normal, we all look and act different."
"But I look too different. Why can't I change the way I look?"
"I love the way you look now. You're a wonderful child. If you changed yourself at all it would make me very sad."
"Okay, I wont make you sad, mommy." He wrapped his arms around his mother's neck and softly hugged her.
Meryt hugged him too. She ran her fingers over his bare back, for he was only wearing a kilt as most young boys do, and she felt the crevices of scars and new cuts. Her eyes welled with tears as she thought of what her son had faced and what he would probably have to face all of his life. She sniffled lightly.
Bakura pushed away from her and looked into her tearing eyes. He pushed a lock of hair from her face and placed it over her ear. "Why are you crying mommy?"
Meryt faked a smile, but tears still found their way through her eyes. She softly stroked his hair again. "I'm crying because I love you." Meryt was afraid to tell Bakura what she predicted his future to be like; he was only a young child, after all.
"I love you too, but I'm not crying. I thought love was supposed to make you happy."
"Loving someone does make you happy, but you can also feel their pain and you can feel their sadness."
"I feel sad that you're sad, mommy. But you don't have to cry. I want you to be happy, that way we can both be happy."
Meryt pulled Bakura toward her and held him tightly. She continued to cry, but was relieved that Bakura didn't seem to fully understand.
Bakura held his arms around his mother, unsure of what was going on. "I love you. You're are my mommy and my best friend."
