oos: (singing) Stacey's mom! Has got it going on! Baby, can't ya see? You're just not the girl for me! I know it may be wrong, but I'm in love with Stacey's mom! ^_^ hehehe, I'm currently obsessed with that song. ^_^;;
Notice the new font? I felt like a crazy change!!!!!! ^_^
No Trouble Whatsoever
"Baka! Come!" Bakura called, heart jerking frantically in his throat. Was this really as ill-fated as it seemed?
Gathering his wits about him, he tied the leash to Baka and approached the house, which was painted a peeling black. A chipped, white picket fence enclosed the scraggly yard, with a white gate that hung off it's hinges.
It seemed to be largely composed of junk.
Old tires were stacked haphazardly in leaning towers of five or six and rested against other objects (scarred tables, chairs with three legs, dressers with no drawers, etc.) for support.
*Perhaps I'm at the wrong house,* Bakura thought desperately, and he backed out of the yard. Baka followed him, a questioning look crossing her face. Bakura re-checked the address. It was correct.
He was painfully aware of the poor quality of the other houses, and even the street, home to as many holes as swiss cheese.
Bakura wasn't afraid for himself; as a tomb robber, he'd /lived/ in neighborhoods such as this his whole life. But people that lived her were usually as low as common thieves and bandits (Not like himself, of course! ^_~). Could he really trust Baka to a person like that?
Before he lost his nerve, the grave robber strode into the yard, skirted brazenly around the stacks of tires, and rapped three firm knocks on the door.
A faint "Coming!" sounded from inside the house, causing Bakura's head to tilt sideways in listening. Yes, it was the same voice as on the phone. The door was opened by a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, a blustering aura, and a huge beer belly. Yet he was dressed well enough, in a formal suit, missing the jacket. No, wait. Bakura could spy it thrown over the back of a chair behind him.
"Yes?" The man asked politely and the grave robber realized he had been staring.
"Are you Takahama-san?" He tried to keep his normally-deep-and-grating voice light and pleasant.
"I am," He replied, peering at Bakura curiously. "And whom might you be?"
*Well-educated, too,* Bakura noted. *The bastard actually said 'whom'* He snorted mentally. *Pansy!* The tomb raider attempted a friendly grin. "I am Ryou-sama. I called you on the phone about your beagle yesterday." He pointed to Baka, who was looking off to the side, uninterested.
"Sweetums!" Takahama cried and, squatting down, opened his arms wide. Baka looked up and wagged her tail in recognition and trotted into the man's hug. "I'd recognize Fluffy anywhere!"
Bakura recoiled as though he had been physically slapped. *Fluffy?!* He sputtered to himself incredulously.
Other than a bad taste in names, the man seemed to be decent and genuinely care about Baka. The dog was now wagging her tail so hard she fell over and had to be picked up by a laughing Takahama.
"Do you have any proof her?" Bakura asked. Takahama nodded.
"Indeed I do." He set down Baka and clasped his hands behind his back as if preparing to recite a poem in school. "Her eyes are brown, she has a lightening-shaped white streak on the back of her neck, and there's an old scar on the bottom of her right forepaw from when she got into a fight as a two-month old pup. And here-" he fished a folded piece of paper out of his pocket "- is her birth certificate."
Bakura skimmed over it quickly and was mostly convinced. Although the first two things were easy enough, the last was solid proof. He himself had wondered how she had gotten that tiny scar on the inside of her paw.
*Just one more thing....* The tomb raider summoned his Millennium Ring to appear under his shirt. Ryou didn't know of this power.... and didn't need to. Bakura felt a sharp pang of guilt. He had swore he wouldn't use it.... but this was an emergency! Ryou would understand. He shoved his guilt aside and silently activated the Ring.
Bakura lightly brushed over the man's mind, having no need to penetrate deeper and shatter it. There was only joy, pure happiness, that his wonderful, beautiful, sweet, and intelligent Fluffy was home, and they would live happily ever after, and....
The spirit shook his head slightly. He had been getting lost in Takahama's mind, but it had been worth it. Now he was sure the other man wasn't lying.
"Ryou-san?" Takahama inquired. Bakura sent the Millennium Ring back to Ryou.
"Yes. That's plenty proof for me." He smiled as gently as he could manage.
"Thank you so much for returning Fluffy," Takahama smiled, not noticing or ignoring Bakura's twitch of disgust.
"You're welcome." He replied, gritting his teeth.
"Here," Takahama drew out a crisp fifty-dollar bill out of his pocket and held it out to Bakura. "For your trouble."
The tomb robber visibly drooped. "No, thank you." He said softly, pushing the money back to him. "She was no trouble whatsoever."
Bakura reached down and gave Baka one last pat. She whined quietly, again, almost like she knew.... she gave him a good lick on his palm and he smiled.
"Good day."
He left the yard and walked stiffly down the street.
***
The tomb raider stared blankly at the tv in Ryou's apartment. It was so quiet that the silence was ringing as loudly and painfully in his ears as a siren. Dark clouds hung over the city like a tent tied too loosely, and thunder rumbled in the distance, hinting at a coming storm.
Bakura's eyes trailed over the empty spot next to him where Baka would have been sleeping, growling and barking in her sleep, the laundry basket that was full of her short black, brown, and white hairs, and a small piece of toilet paper with her teeth marks in it that he had missed while vacuuming.
Memories of Baka were everywhere. Bakura squeezed his eyes shut until he saw fireworks. Sweet Ra! He'd only known her for four days and now she was as firmly engraved on his heart as Ryou.
*Stupid beagle,* He thought, miserable. *Why? It's all her fault! She did this to me! That day in the park, she could have easily been under another bench! Why mine?*
Bakura scowled horribly. It hadn't really been her fault, of course. It might as well have been his- he could have just as easily sat on a different bench, or gone somewhere other than the park. But /someone/ needed to be blamed. Or somedog.
He could feel a burning sensation at the corners of his eyes and felt drops of wetness sliding down his cheeks, only to be followed by more in an enthusiastic stream.
After a while, Bakura had to rub the tears away himself and wash his face at the sink. There was no Baka to erase them now.
ooc: Just for all you wonderful readers.... I've decided to make next chapter the last instead of this one being super-duper long. ^_^ Love ya guys too- see ya soon! COUGHreviewCOUGH ^_^;;
Notice the new font? I felt like a crazy change!!!!!! ^_^
No Trouble Whatsoever
"Baka! Come!" Bakura called, heart jerking frantically in his throat. Was this really as ill-fated as it seemed?
Gathering his wits about him, he tied the leash to Baka and approached the house, which was painted a peeling black. A chipped, white picket fence enclosed the scraggly yard, with a white gate that hung off it's hinges.
It seemed to be largely composed of junk.
Old tires were stacked haphazardly in leaning towers of five or six and rested against other objects (scarred tables, chairs with three legs, dressers with no drawers, etc.) for support.
*Perhaps I'm at the wrong house,* Bakura thought desperately, and he backed out of the yard. Baka followed him, a questioning look crossing her face. Bakura re-checked the address. It was correct.
He was painfully aware of the poor quality of the other houses, and even the street, home to as many holes as swiss cheese.
Bakura wasn't afraid for himself; as a tomb robber, he'd /lived/ in neighborhoods such as this his whole life. But people that lived her were usually as low as common thieves and bandits (Not like himself, of course! ^_~). Could he really trust Baka to a person like that?
Before he lost his nerve, the grave robber strode into the yard, skirted brazenly around the stacks of tires, and rapped three firm knocks on the door.
A faint "Coming!" sounded from inside the house, causing Bakura's head to tilt sideways in listening. Yes, it was the same voice as on the phone. The door was opened by a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, a blustering aura, and a huge beer belly. Yet he was dressed well enough, in a formal suit, missing the jacket. No, wait. Bakura could spy it thrown over the back of a chair behind him.
"Yes?" The man asked politely and the grave robber realized he had been staring.
"Are you Takahama-san?" He tried to keep his normally-deep-and-grating voice light and pleasant.
"I am," He replied, peering at Bakura curiously. "And whom might you be?"
*Well-educated, too,* Bakura noted. *The bastard actually said 'whom'* He snorted mentally. *Pansy!* The tomb raider attempted a friendly grin. "I am Ryou-sama. I called you on the phone about your beagle yesterday." He pointed to Baka, who was looking off to the side, uninterested.
"Sweetums!" Takahama cried and, squatting down, opened his arms wide. Baka looked up and wagged her tail in recognition and trotted into the man's hug. "I'd recognize Fluffy anywhere!"
Bakura recoiled as though he had been physically slapped. *Fluffy?!* He sputtered to himself incredulously.
Other than a bad taste in names, the man seemed to be decent and genuinely care about Baka. The dog was now wagging her tail so hard she fell over and had to be picked up by a laughing Takahama.
"Do you have any proof her?" Bakura asked. Takahama nodded.
"Indeed I do." He set down Baka and clasped his hands behind his back as if preparing to recite a poem in school. "Her eyes are brown, she has a lightening-shaped white streak on the back of her neck, and there's an old scar on the bottom of her right forepaw from when she got into a fight as a two-month old pup. And here-" he fished a folded piece of paper out of his pocket "- is her birth certificate."
Bakura skimmed over it quickly and was mostly convinced. Although the first two things were easy enough, the last was solid proof. He himself had wondered how she had gotten that tiny scar on the inside of her paw.
*Just one more thing....* The tomb raider summoned his Millennium Ring to appear under his shirt. Ryou didn't know of this power.... and didn't need to. Bakura felt a sharp pang of guilt. He had swore he wouldn't use it.... but this was an emergency! Ryou would understand. He shoved his guilt aside and silently activated the Ring.
Bakura lightly brushed over the man's mind, having no need to penetrate deeper and shatter it. There was only joy, pure happiness, that his wonderful, beautiful, sweet, and intelligent Fluffy was home, and they would live happily ever after, and....
The spirit shook his head slightly. He had been getting lost in Takahama's mind, but it had been worth it. Now he was sure the other man wasn't lying.
"Ryou-san?" Takahama inquired. Bakura sent the Millennium Ring back to Ryou.
"Yes. That's plenty proof for me." He smiled as gently as he could manage.
"Thank you so much for returning Fluffy," Takahama smiled, not noticing or ignoring Bakura's twitch of disgust.
"You're welcome." He replied, gritting his teeth.
"Here," Takahama drew out a crisp fifty-dollar bill out of his pocket and held it out to Bakura. "For your trouble."
The tomb robber visibly drooped. "No, thank you." He said softly, pushing the money back to him. "She was no trouble whatsoever."
Bakura reached down and gave Baka one last pat. She whined quietly, again, almost like she knew.... she gave him a good lick on his palm and he smiled.
"Good day."
He left the yard and walked stiffly down the street.
***
The tomb raider stared blankly at the tv in Ryou's apartment. It was so quiet that the silence was ringing as loudly and painfully in his ears as a siren. Dark clouds hung over the city like a tent tied too loosely, and thunder rumbled in the distance, hinting at a coming storm.
Bakura's eyes trailed over the empty spot next to him where Baka would have been sleeping, growling and barking in her sleep, the laundry basket that was full of her short black, brown, and white hairs, and a small piece of toilet paper with her teeth marks in it that he had missed while vacuuming.
Memories of Baka were everywhere. Bakura squeezed his eyes shut until he saw fireworks. Sweet Ra! He'd only known her for four days and now she was as firmly engraved on his heart as Ryou.
*Stupid beagle,* He thought, miserable. *Why? It's all her fault! She did this to me! That day in the park, she could have easily been under another bench! Why mine?*
Bakura scowled horribly. It hadn't really been her fault, of course. It might as well have been his- he could have just as easily sat on a different bench, or gone somewhere other than the park. But /someone/ needed to be blamed. Or somedog.
He could feel a burning sensation at the corners of his eyes and felt drops of wetness sliding down his cheeks, only to be followed by more in an enthusiastic stream.
After a while, Bakura had to rub the tears away himself and wash his face at the sink. There was no Baka to erase them now.
ooc: Just for all you wonderful readers.... I've decided to make next chapter the last instead of this one being super-duper long. ^_^ Love ya guys too- see ya soon! COUGHreviewCOUGH ^_^;;