Disclaimer: ^^;;
Ok, well, I got good sleep, so I'll probably be able to crank out another good chapter. Before that, though, people reviewed. Thanks, to you all. I got a review from Gyakutenno Megami, saying, in this story, Bakura seemed a lot like Sirius Black from Harry Potter. You know, as I was writing this, I too thought that he seemed a lot like him. Strange, really. Every time I thought about Bakura in this story, I kinds saw Sirius with white hair, and anime eyes. It looked funny.
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I stood there, horror struck. From instinct, I was really scared of what Bakura might do to me for breaking rules, but he didn't seem angry at all.
"I-I wanted, well, di-didn't, I was wo-wondering, I didn't me-mean to-" I internally bashed myself for sounding so foolish. I used to stutter around my father, and he didn't like that, so I instinctively backed away from the dresser, never once looking into Bakura's eyes, fearing the look of hatred I knew so well. I could hear him walking over to me, and even though I trusted this man, I stiffened more with every step he took.
"It's only right that you would be curious about the contents of those pictures, Ryou. I'm not angry." He said. I jumped a little when he put a hand on my shoulder. I decided to risk it.
"Last night, I heard your conversation with the man. Who are you, really?" Bakura made an exasperated noise.
"Damn, I knew the door woke you up, but I didn't think you were listening. What did you hear?" He asked me, with a sense of firmness in his voice. I took a deep breath.
"I heard the man's name was Malik, and I heard that you weren't my uncle. But it was what I saw that disturbed me more." I said. He took my arm and led me into the living room, and made me sit in a chair. I was scared stiff. He sat on the one across from me. I had avoided this chair, as it was the one I was in when I found out about my mother. It brought back horrible memories.
"I see I can no longer hide from you. I didn't want to tell you, because I didn't think you could handle it. I should have known that curiosity would eventually run you over. What do you want to know?" He said, looking down at his feet.
"For one, I'd like to know who you really are, seeing as you're not my uncle." I said, now beginning to get angry.
"That's an honest question, Ryou. I am not your uncle, no, but I am indeed related to you. I've lost count, but you are somewhere near my 151 great grandson. (I mean in a line, but I wasn't going to write 'great' 151 times) Ok, here's the explanation. I know this sounds a little far fetched, but it's the truth. I was born in China circa 1500 b.c.e. (b.c.e means Before the Common Era. I'm not Christian.) I lived there quite happily, for a time. My brother, who is long since been dust, was a chemist. He liked messing with the medicinal property of herbs. One day, he came to me and told me that he had made something that would let people use brain waves to control physical objects. I thought he was losing it. He said it really worked, but it had a side effect. It would make the drinker immortal. I thought, wow, this would be cool if it worked. So I drank it. I regret that to this day. I felt no different, but it was about ten years later, my brother, who was younger than me by about five years, looked older
then me. I started to think it was because of the stuff I drank. I realized it had indeed worked when he was on his deathbed. His final words were, "I told you that crap worked." It did. I eventually found a wife, who gave me a son. She left both the child and me after she thought I was a witch, because I didn't age. I raised the boy, so he would know of my condition, and he had a family of his own, one in which I was also understood.
So you see, it began there. I lived and cared for my whole line of descendants, watching them come and go, as I sat there, never aging. I got attached to all of them, and it felt like my heart would rip out every time I lost one. I have said good-bye to over 1000 people I loved and cared for. I saw wars, and I saw revolutions. I was in the first photograph ever taken, that's the one in the room with the 1600 date on it. What a day that was.
Your mother grew up with me, and knew about my past. After she married, we had let Erik in on the family secret, which, I'm sure, he's forgotten. You are the first one, Ryou. The first one in the family who hasn't known all along. I couldn't take you from him, because he refused to let anyone other than him raise you. I was deeply upset. Not only because of who you are, but because of WHAT you are.
You remember I told you that the stuff I drank could make the drinker able to control physical objects, right?" After the whole speech, it took me a while to process everything he had said, but I nodded to acknowledge the question. I had, by now, gotten the courage to look at him, and I could see in his eyes he was dead serious. His hand came up from under the cloak he wore, and pointed his palm at a vase. It lifted from where it was, and came floating in my direction. It suddenly shot at me, and I put my hands up in the air to stop it from hitting me. I heard a crash, and thought for a moment it had hit my hands, but no. I opened my eyes, and looked around. The pointy shards of porcelin were now etched into the far wall, which were bricks. They were sticking out everywhere, and not a single piece was on the floor, all of them driven into the brick wall.
"I see. I was right. I had done some tests on my blood, and found that the abnormal DNA could rub off on one of my descendents. That chance got weaker as time wore on, but I knew when I saw you, that first day, you had adopted my talent. Another reason I have white hair. It used to be black. That's how I knew. The hair. I was right. You did that, with the vase and the wall. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" I was now even more shocked. I looked at my hands; the hands I used to play the piano, the hands that I used to open things, and the hands that I couldn't believe were mine. He did the same as the night I found out about my mom, and rested a hand on my shoulder.
"I can understand you trying to work all of this out. I'm leaving for the day to give you some privacy. Take your time." He removed the hand, and walked off, and out of the front door. I couldn't believe it. I had shattered a vase, and ran the pieces into a wall without breaking them, and I didn't even touch the goddamn thing. Again, I sat there, thinking to myself, continually landing on the same question. How the hell did I do that?
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Well, this chapter kinda sucks so flame your heart away. Please just R&R.
Ok, well, I got good sleep, so I'll probably be able to crank out another good chapter. Before that, though, people reviewed. Thanks, to you all. I got a review from Gyakutenno Megami, saying, in this story, Bakura seemed a lot like Sirius Black from Harry Potter. You know, as I was writing this, I too thought that he seemed a lot like him. Strange, really. Every time I thought about Bakura in this story, I kinds saw Sirius with white hair, and anime eyes. It looked funny.
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
I stood there, horror struck. From instinct, I was really scared of what Bakura might do to me for breaking rules, but he didn't seem angry at all.
"I-I wanted, well, di-didn't, I was wo-wondering, I didn't me-mean to-" I internally bashed myself for sounding so foolish. I used to stutter around my father, and he didn't like that, so I instinctively backed away from the dresser, never once looking into Bakura's eyes, fearing the look of hatred I knew so well. I could hear him walking over to me, and even though I trusted this man, I stiffened more with every step he took.
"It's only right that you would be curious about the contents of those pictures, Ryou. I'm not angry." He said. I jumped a little when he put a hand on my shoulder. I decided to risk it.
"Last night, I heard your conversation with the man. Who are you, really?" Bakura made an exasperated noise.
"Damn, I knew the door woke you up, but I didn't think you were listening. What did you hear?" He asked me, with a sense of firmness in his voice. I took a deep breath.
"I heard the man's name was Malik, and I heard that you weren't my uncle. But it was what I saw that disturbed me more." I said. He took my arm and led me into the living room, and made me sit in a chair. I was scared stiff. He sat on the one across from me. I had avoided this chair, as it was the one I was in when I found out about my mother. It brought back horrible memories.
"I see I can no longer hide from you. I didn't want to tell you, because I didn't think you could handle it. I should have known that curiosity would eventually run you over. What do you want to know?" He said, looking down at his feet.
"For one, I'd like to know who you really are, seeing as you're not my uncle." I said, now beginning to get angry.
"That's an honest question, Ryou. I am not your uncle, no, but I am indeed related to you. I've lost count, but you are somewhere near my 151 great grandson. (I mean in a line, but I wasn't going to write 'great' 151 times) Ok, here's the explanation. I know this sounds a little far fetched, but it's the truth. I was born in China circa 1500 b.c.e. (b.c.e means Before the Common Era. I'm not Christian.) I lived there quite happily, for a time. My brother, who is long since been dust, was a chemist. He liked messing with the medicinal property of herbs. One day, he came to me and told me that he had made something that would let people use brain waves to control physical objects. I thought he was losing it. He said it really worked, but it had a side effect. It would make the drinker immortal. I thought, wow, this would be cool if it worked. So I drank it. I regret that to this day. I felt no different, but it was about ten years later, my brother, who was younger than me by about five years, looked older
then me. I started to think it was because of the stuff I drank. I realized it had indeed worked when he was on his deathbed. His final words were, "I told you that crap worked." It did. I eventually found a wife, who gave me a son. She left both the child and me after she thought I was a witch, because I didn't age. I raised the boy, so he would know of my condition, and he had a family of his own, one in which I was also understood.
So you see, it began there. I lived and cared for my whole line of descendants, watching them come and go, as I sat there, never aging. I got attached to all of them, and it felt like my heart would rip out every time I lost one. I have said good-bye to over 1000 people I loved and cared for. I saw wars, and I saw revolutions. I was in the first photograph ever taken, that's the one in the room with the 1600 date on it. What a day that was.
Your mother grew up with me, and knew about my past. After she married, we had let Erik in on the family secret, which, I'm sure, he's forgotten. You are the first one, Ryou. The first one in the family who hasn't known all along. I couldn't take you from him, because he refused to let anyone other than him raise you. I was deeply upset. Not only because of who you are, but because of WHAT you are.
You remember I told you that the stuff I drank could make the drinker able to control physical objects, right?" After the whole speech, it took me a while to process everything he had said, but I nodded to acknowledge the question. I had, by now, gotten the courage to look at him, and I could see in his eyes he was dead serious. His hand came up from under the cloak he wore, and pointed his palm at a vase. It lifted from where it was, and came floating in my direction. It suddenly shot at me, and I put my hands up in the air to stop it from hitting me. I heard a crash, and thought for a moment it had hit my hands, but no. I opened my eyes, and looked around. The pointy shards of porcelin were now etched into the far wall, which were bricks. They were sticking out everywhere, and not a single piece was on the floor, all of them driven into the brick wall.
"I see. I was right. I had done some tests on my blood, and found that the abnormal DNA could rub off on one of my descendents. That chance got weaker as time wore on, but I knew when I saw you, that first day, you had adopted my talent. Another reason I have white hair. It used to be black. That's how I knew. The hair. I was right. You did that, with the vase and the wall. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" I was now even more shocked. I looked at my hands; the hands I used to play the piano, the hands that I used to open things, and the hands that I couldn't believe were mine. He did the same as the night I found out about my mom, and rested a hand on my shoulder.
"I can understand you trying to work all of this out. I'm leaving for the day to give you some privacy. Take your time." He removed the hand, and walked off, and out of the front door. I couldn't believe it. I had shattered a vase, and ran the pieces into a wall without breaking them, and I didn't even touch the goddamn thing. Again, I sat there, thinking to myself, continually landing on the same question. How the hell did I do that?
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Well, this chapter kinda sucks so flame your heart away. Please just R&R.