Here for Eternity

It matters not where I look, because everywhere I dare to glance, I see them.

They are all around me. Some thrashed around violently, while others glided gracefully a few inches above the ground, but all of them wailed away their anguish. He never noticed the shrill moaning coming from them, or maybe he had grown used to the constant 'what ifs' from the souls of the dead. Fifteen years was a long time to dwell on things, to adapt to surroundings...

For a strange reason, I couldn't help but stare at the ruins of what I assumed was homes fifteen years ago. Bakura told me--rather bitterly and filled with loathing--that the Sennen Items were made here, and the villagers were sacrificed for the ritual. I--just as bitterly--told him that his murdering of Mahaado wasn't justified while the sacrifices were. Kicking a small piece of dried mud from one of the wrecked homes, his reply rang clear in my memory. He choked, and then, I thought that the almighty Thief King Bakura would've cried. "You would say that, wouldn't you, since it was your father who ordered my village to be slaughtered for his own damned glory. As for... his... death, it is justified because I am only doing what is right."

The skies were quickly fading into dark shades of blue and black, and shimmers of golden stars that replaced the lazy clouds indicated that it was indeed nightfall. I shivered as the night breeze blew against me, and I nearly walked right into something... hard. Only moments later, I heard a quiet snort and found myself in an embrace much too familiar. I forced myself to look up, as I was rather on the short side, and I met his glance.

I flinched at the coolness that gleamed in his eyes. He smirked arrogantly, pleased at my response to him, and his hold around me tightened. Why he did so was beyond what I could comprehend. Maybe he thought that my reactions to his teasing were hilarious. I stood still for a couple awkward moments, and he still had his arms around me protectively. Everything seemed to be wrong with this moment, this position... I hated it.

Feeling so vulnerable and close to him was wrong in so many ways. The term adulterous probably fits the situation best... or maybe traitor...

Once I realized that he still had me in his embrace, I pushed him away awkwardly. I looked away from him shyly, trying to focus my attention on the small piece of dried mud that I kicked minutes ago. Awkwardly, I whispered, "Do you really insist on doing that?"

Bakura grinned that insane grin of his, and I felt a little edgy. He could easily overpower me if I wasn't careful... Bakura was a full head taller then me, and was strong enough to toss me over his shoulder effortlessly. The thought of him turning against me now, in this village haunted with the souls of the damned, frightened me. Almost everything about him frightened me.

Gently, he made me look directly up at him. Bending down slightly, still with his arrogant grin, he kissed me. Again, I felt his arms embrace my small frame, the embrace tensing as the kiss grew more passionate. I reluctantly placed my arms around his neck, and responded back to his rather casual feat. Moments later, I broke off the kiss suddenly to catch my breath, and he still held me close to him.

Adulterous whore, I thought to myself when I gave into him yet again... he was trying to ensnare me into some sort of trap. Maybe he thought of me as vulnerable, gullible, and naïve because of our age difference. A seven-year age difference is quite the gap, I told myself, and I forced myself to smile weakly. My arms had found their way down to his torso, and I leaned into him.

A figure, not far off into the distance, caught my eye. Strands of her translucent silver hair danced in the chilly breeze, and there was something about her that seemed to make my body colder. Her lips moved, but not a single word came out. I would've called her beautiful if she wasn't a mournful dead soul lingering in the world of the living. In her eyes glowed a deep resentment, like all the other ghosts, but she sat calmly against the wall. Of all the souls that haunted this place, she seemed like the one that would hold unto her grudge against the living the longest.

"Bakura," I murmured, "Why is it that you stayed here for so long?"

He took a moment to think, running his fingers through my tangled blonde hair, and then said coolly, "Abandoning the past isn't something I plan to do anytime soon."

Almost immediately, I retorted, "Leaving here forever isn't abandoning the past."

"Maybe to you, because my past means nothing to you. Isn't worth anything to you," he replied with hostility. He glared down at me. Even as I was talking to him, I was still watching the spirit. Such a fragile-looking person, and yet so filled with abhorrence and bitterness... like all the rest. Did they truly stay here for fifteen years, drowning in their self-pity?

Softly, I answered, "Maybe it doesn't mean so much to me. Maybe it doesn't haunt me everyday." I tightened my hug around him, and before I continued on, I trembled as one of the wandering spirits let out a sorrowful wail. "Maybe it only means so much to you because you spent the last fifteen years here, Bakura. Fifteen years here... and it's hard to let go after staying here for so long."

He stiffened, and then replied grimly, "So, are you saying that I should just throw away the past, pretend that your father hasn't done my village any wrong, and live without a care in the world?"

I began to laugh quietly. My relationship with Bakura was hilarious--one moment we were passionate and the next suddenly satirical towards the other. It was adulterous and wrong, but felt so right sometimes. He scared me greatly, but I'm thrilled whenever he touches me... I'm such a whore. Or maybe he already caught me in his web, and I'm in denial.

He pushed me away, trying to get a better look at my expression. He peered at me, his lavender eyes staring into mine skeptically. Teasingly, I gave him an innocent smile. I knew that Bakura didn't like me laughing at him. He raised an eyebrow, trying to get me to squirm under his stare. "If I didn't know better, I would say you finally snapped," he grumbled as I stifled my laughter.

Brightly, I said with a chortle, "Who said that you knew better?"

He snorted, and then led me away from the bitter souls of the dead that died in this very village fifteen years ago. I followed him hastily, only glancing back once to see the single spirit that didn't thrash about like many others. She gave me a cruel smile, her eyes filled with hatred, and her lips mouthing silent words. I immediately felt a chill tingle down my spine the moment I met her glimpse, and the feeling of dread mixing with pity I felt for her. I forced myself to look forward.

Despite what happened, no one in this village, alive or not, refused to say goodbye. Goodbye to their destroyed village, to the land of the living, everything.

I found myself staring at the back of Bakura's head. Unlike the wandering spirits, he was very much alive. Fifteen years he has wasted here. Whether he keeps the little village deep within his heart where no one can see, I do not care. If he was able to say goodbye to all that's happened instead of dwell on it for eternity, and say hello to the present, I would be overjoyed.

I laughed hollowly. He gave me an annoyed look, and I merely gave him a bitter smile in return. Knowing better then to ask me what I found amusing, he simply ignored me.

I'll be here when he's ready to say hello.

---The End---

I do not own Thief King Bakura or the animanga Yuugiou, though I do own Khepri, whose perspective I wrote this piece in. A big thank-you to Maneshi for the grammar check, and I'm so sorry that I forgot to add that to my notes when I first posted this! This one-shot was inspired by Krissy-chan, who seems to be my main source of inspiration other then random songs from the radio as of late. It is also dedicated to her.

Constructive criticism and flames are more then welcome as always, and reviews may motivate me to write something other then the coding for my websites. Comments on style, characterization, etc. are cherished.

Innocence Within