Chapter 9-Akira
Akira was my original name. My name when I was younger, five thousand years younger in fact. Now you can just say I am Yami, but since Yugi's dark side already took that name I guess my name is now Yami Bakura. Perhaps " Yami Ryou" would have been more appropriate, but I am what people call me. My name is Akira, Yami Bakura, and Zei, which quickly turned back to Akira.
Syaoran is actually Tarkot, or his reincarnation. I actually met Tarkot once. I never harmed him because he was a child and he was so kind to me. And I knew that Tarkot did not know of the tension between the Pharoah and me. I didn't meet Tarkot after the Pharoah and I dueled-it was before that, when I was twelve. The Pharoah was visiting the lands of Egypt outside his palace grounds and Tarkot was with him. By that time Tarkot was already punished many times and sought comfort in someone other than his lord. And so he came to me. Or I came to him.
It's really hard to tell which way it was. We just met in the middle of the road. He had the most amazing eyes, eyes that seem to see far away into the future, yet was wrecked with the pain of the present. And it seemed that he saw right through me, immediately understanding me.
I asked him if he wanted to play the Shadow Games. He told me no, he did not want to. I told him, most Egyptians love the game, yet it seemed as if he feared it. So I asked him why.
I did not find out until Yami found Syaoran in the streets one night, but that is for Yami to tell, not me.
Unlike Yami I remembered everything about my past even after I was released. At first it wasn't because I remembered Tarkot that I took great interest in Syaoran. It was simply because in him I recognized myself and had thought I found a partner in crime. Syaoran was very smart. And then, like a huge explosion, I found out that he and Tarkot share the same eyes, yet Tarkot's are filled with knowledge while Syaoran's were just...just empty. But I did not doubt that they had once been bright and glowing, although Syaoran soon told me it was a long time ago.
That was why I helped Syaoran that night when he first attempted to run away. I recognized Tarkot. In this case, Syaoran was partly wrong; I do know what friendship is. And that brief moment of friendship was enough to soothe me a little, although not enough to calm my wrath. But as a favor returned I soothed the child just as he had soothed me so many years ago.
After he and the girls went ' shopping', Ryou had gone to the kitchen when Syaoran was staying at his place. I just materialized and Syaoran was not afraid. I was so use to fear that at first I was a bit annoyed, but he just raised his calm and steady eyes, dull and empty, and that was enough to stop me. I simply stopped, and just looked at him. Then he smiled, beckoning me to sit.
We talked a little. He told me personally about some of his adventures he had never told Mokuba. How he had helped Sakura capture the Power Card without her ever knowing it. The attempts at acting in Sleeping Beauty that was rudely interrupted by the Light and Dark Cards. How he was forced to wear a pink dress and a humiliatingly hot wig. Rehearsals, trying to force a kiss but too embarrassed to. The ice skating trip that went all wrong because the Freeze Card decided to freeze something other than plain ice. How he had listened to Eriol and was put under a spell and fell from the tree right into Eriol's arms. The Final Judgement, how he was so hurt by it.
Then he explained something about his personality. He was an obnoxious brat, he said, no better than a gaki, and gave some trouble to his friends and family. He was not use to smiling or laughing, in fact, he had never laughed so much in his life until he was with us. But he did not laugh because he was truly happy, he said. He laughed because he was lonely, quite ironic, he stated. He was lonely and so he laughed because he wondered if that was how to make friends. When I mentioned that he seemed to be a strong yet a sorrowing boy he hesitated and began another story.
" When I was three," He began, " My father, Raiden, took me to a festival at a gathering of sorcerors. That night my mother was not there because she was not feeling well, and my sisters were all out with their friends at a sleepover party. I was alone with my father and I loved to be that way, completely alone with him without anyone to bother us.
It was actually pleasant at first. I got to know quite a few sorcerors, and they seemed to take great interest in me. One of the many things they commented on was my eyes, ' enough to rival the glare of the sun,' they said. That time, my mother told me my eyes just glow without any moonlight, like shiny lamps or fireflies that just light and never dim.
My father was a good man. He was favored by many and well liked. But when we started on our way home, it was early in the morning or late in the night, when we were assaulted. I sensed it first, sensed a black shadow in the blackest depths of the night that did not belong to it. I tried to warn my father, and my father listened but did not understand. Not until too late."
He said it so emotionlessly I wondered if he was telling another ghost story. But deep in my heart I knew it was not.
" There were many sorcerors, all dressed in black, none of them present at the
festival. All had their staffs held proudly before them, like an executioner preparing
for a blow. My father was a strong sorceror. But they were stronger still. Father
stepped in front of me, shielding me from them, asking them,
' What do you want?'
I do not remember what they wanted, but whatever they wanted it was not good and my father wouldn't let them have it. There was a fierce battle, filled with lights and flame. In the end my father lost, weakened, looking up at them, refusing to give up. They laughed at his weakness. With one strike, a sword cut through his neck.
I did not run. I screamed, shouting for my father. He did not answer. His throat was cut open and filled with blood. They took him by his hair, his head without a body and a body without a head, and held it in front of me, as if asking me if I would play with it. My father's face was stone cold, his eyes were still open and glaring. I thought he was glaring at me, angry at me, and I only screamed more, starting to run away. But I was three years old. I slipped and fell. I landed in a puddle of his blood. One of the grabbed me and I kicked. Then they slammed me into the puddle and I blacked out.
I do not know what had saved me from them. I was unconscious. When I woke I was still in the same place. But this time there was only my father's skeletal body. There was no head with a face on it. Instead there was a skull, a skull of a nameless being. There was no blood, no flesh. No clothes. His bones were scattered and dogs were chewing on them. One of them was sniffing at me, and I quickly backed off. Annoyed, it ignored me and worked on the bones that still lied around. I wanted them to stop. I wanted them to stop dishonoring my father this way. They didn't, and what could I do? What could I do that all the clothes were chewed and all the blood lapped by dogs? The flesh eaten by dogs, bones crunched, glaring eyes that were swallowed so that only the sockets remained.
I cried the whole time until they found me. By that time the bones were dust and they no longer had any form. I cried until they found me and I never wept a single tear since. It wasn't because I sorrowed over my father. I remember the love but I no longer feel it. It was because I realized that I had lost something that night, much more than just my father. That night I forgot who I was. And I never remembered since."
It was nervewrecking, as I recall. Not just because it was almost parallel to
Tarkot, but because Syaoran told the story in the coldest manner, as if he didn't care
that he was telling a memory that should not have been taken lightly. I remember
when my parents died. I hated the world for it. But to listen to a child that does not
hate the world, but instead distances himself from it, made me feel guilty and foolish.
It wasn't because his way of dealing with it was any smarter than mine. It was
because he was able to rouse sympathy from everyone who heard his story, while I
was only able to raise disgust and contempt from all those around me.
Afterwards it was Yami and Yugi who told us of the parallel fates. I was the
one that told everyone else of what happened to Syaoran's father. All this was done
when Syaoran was out with Mokuba in the library. I've never seen a kid so addicted
to it, and since Mokuba was the type of youngster to look up to people who were,
in turn, nice to him, he was starting to get rubbed off on...
Not that it's bad, really.
Kaiba didn't say anything as I told them the story. I wasn't as graphic as
Syaoran was, but they still had a gruesome look on their faces when I finished.
" Lapped by a dog!" Anzu shivered. " That's hideous! It makes every dog look so
disgusting!"
" Didn't the kid have nightmares then?" Jou asked.
" I never asked." I admitted. " He said that he lost himself that night. He said that he
use to be obnoxious and bratty."
" Seto." Yami said flatly.
" And he was very cold, never laughs much, doesn't smile-"
" Seto." Honda agreed.
" He doesn't cry either-"
" Seto."
" What the heck are you saying my name for?" Seto sat up, annoyed.
" Because Syaoran's the young version of you." I explained.
" Nan-I, oh my god." Seto growled. He sat back.
" Bastards." He mumbled.
" In any case," I went on, " If Yami's story was true, then no doubt we can expect
more runaway attempts-"
" And something happening concerning with Duel Monsters." Honda finished.
" And we can't let that happen." Jou twitched. " God, this is so annoying!"
" Damare." I said. And shut up he did, perhaps because of the glare I gave him. "
We don't need you to tell us that. We can help Syaoran in a few ways.
One, we can try to convince him that we are just as good friends as his former ones are, thus getting his will back so he can fight the twelve immortals, or another way is to fight the immortals ourselves if we know how. Another way is to try to let him understand the cards, so he could perhaps use and reveal the magic within them."
" None of them are easy," Yami looked at Yugi. " Because Syaoran is a tough child.
It's hard enough to get him to lose his will in the first place, how are we to get it
back? And we don't know how the immortals use their magic or fight. They
probably have different rules. And Syaoran doesn't have much time to reveal the
magic within the cards."
" There's no one left to ask." Anzu sighed.
" Iie." Jou contradicted. " There's still someone left."
" Who?" Ryou asked. " Who could be left? His friends are dead. His family is also.
Who's left?"
" He mentioned something about Sakura's oni-chan." Jou told us.
That guy can be so unpredictable.
