Disclaimer: Hello, and welcome to chapter three. I know this story hasn't had a very big response, but I figure… well, this story is more for me and my friend Liz than anything else. It was a random idea and I plan to take it to the end. I have some great ideas to expand upon so… expect better chapters!
To answer a question posed to me about Yami's father, the reason he's still alive, and the ONLY reason he's still alive, is for plot element. I know that it's not exactly how the history of Yami's family goes but… Obviously, a new pharaoh is only chosen right before the first pharaoh dies, so it also doesn't quite fit with Egyptian culture. Again, it's only plot element. I know there are a couple holes in my writing, but bear with me and try to ignore my lack of better things to use. Oh and don't worry… He WILL die in the end… heh-heh.
And, as always, I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh for if I did, Anzu would not exist.
Chapter 3: Four-Leafed Clover
Bakura stared at Yami in disbelief. Was he actually giving himself to him? Perhaps his plan had not been in vain…
Yami stood before him, arms still outstretched. His eyes were focused and determined. Bakura let out a small giggle.
"Stupid… are you actually allowing yourself, the almighty Pharaoh, to be kidnapped by a common thief such as myself?" Bakura began to laugh maniacally, as if possessed by the hatred of a thousand years. "You fool! Once you trespass in my soul, you can never go back! Are you prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, just for my revenge against your father?!"
"I do not understand the details. I know about KuruEruna, but my father… He could never do such a thing! I will go with you. You can do what you will with me. But in the end… Bakura! I will prove you wrong!"
The two faced each other, and for a moment, it seemed as if they both resided in the same universe. Bakura knew that he and this boy were worlds apart, but he couldn't help but feel, at that very moment, that they were equals. A thief and a Pharaoh; what a ludicrous tale! But… if it would help him achieve his vengeance and put his dear mother's soul to rest…
"Alright, Pharaoh. You do the work to get out of the palace, and I will show you the pain of my village. I will have you experience the torture of my people. Are you prepared?" Bakura asked. It was not a rude question, nor was it filled with malice. It was just a question, something Bakura never would have expected of himself.
Yami nodded. His mind was made up. He would go with Bakura and learn of the true fate of KuruEruna.
Bakura ran through the shifting sands of the desert, trying desperately to get away from the smell of burning flesh. His face seared with sharp pain, blood leaking down his cheek and toward his neck. His eyes burned, images of murder scorched into his mind.
Tears mixed with blood and dirt stung his pores, stinging vehemently. How long had he been running? He couldn't tell anymore. Time and space were of no importance anymore. Where could he go? He had no home, no family… Without them, he didn't exist. He was just another nameless orphan, running from a past he had no control over.
Sobbing, he flung himself to the ground, clawing at his eyes and nose. Why wouldn't the smell go away?! Why wouldn't the visions of death leave his mind?! Why could he still hear the agonizing screams of his mother?! What would become of him…?
He began to wipe his eyes, wondering what his mother would think of him right now. A pain surged through his face, and he quickly moved his hand away. Dammit, he had forgotten what he had done…
"Weakling…" he moaned to himself. "You're so weak… Stop being such a wimp!" he cried, smacking himself in the face, hitting his still-bleeding scar. A whimper of pain escaped his lips. Angry with his frailty, he hit himself again and again. He continued to feel pain.
Bakura began to scream the obscenities he had heard from the village. He began to tear at the scar, beating himself over and over again. Until finally, after all of the torture he put himself through, he became numb to the pain.
Bakura sat there, broken in the sand. He watched the night sky begin to fade into dawn, the horizon aflame with color. All that remained of his tears was a bit of salt residue left on his bloody cheeks. Finally, he was ready.
He stood, facing the new day with devotion and commitment. He knew who he was. A sick and twisted grin spread over his face. He had come to grips with the fact that his mother was dead; that his village was gone, burned to the ground… and that he, Bakura, had died with them.
Bakura followed behind Yami, his eyes traveling over the elegant beauty of the palace. He had never seen such wealth. Moving his eyes forward, he surveyed the Pharaoh for the first time.
He was gorgeous, a true royal figure. Bakura snickered, wondering if Akunumkanon was really his father. After all, he certainly didn't get his looks from that dirty rat.
"So, Pharaoh. What shall I call you? I'm sure you don't appreciate being called 'Pharaoh' all the time." Bakura inquired teasingly. Yami turned and hushed him, pushing him up against a wall. Two guards passed, both looking rather uninterested in the events of the palace. Yami turned to him, a small smirk on his face.
"My proper name is Yami. You may use that if you wish." Bakura smiled.
"Yami, eh? Then that is what you shall be called. Or maybe…" Bakura lifted Yami's chin up, staring down into his eyes. "…Or maybe I'll just call you slave." Yami cringed, his eyes narrowing in anger. Yami raised his hand, preparing to slap him, but Bakura grabbed it, pressing it back against the wall.
"Don't even try it. Slap me once, that's alright. Slap me twice, however… then I kill you." he growled, not even a trace of humor in his voice. Yami finally stopped struggling. Bakura released him and pushed him forward a bit.
"Now… keep leading." Yami nodded, quickly moving about the palace.
After about twenty minutes of long corridors and endless doors, they reached the exit of the palace. Bakura grinned, and pulled out some rope from inside his robes.
"Now then. Time to make you my prisoner, Pharaoh. Oh, excuse me… Yami. If you try anything funny, just remember how quickly I can kill you." Bakura sneered, forcefully grabbing Yami's arms and tying them behind his back. Yami breathed in deeply, repressing the urge to cry out for help. If he was to learn anything, he had to allow this heathen to enjoy his little game.
Bakura lead Yami down the stairs, turning back and spitting on them once again.
"Couldn't you make this rope a little less tight? At this rate, I'll get rope burn…" Yami protested, struggling a bit against the binding on his arms. Bakura leaned forward, glaring at him.
"You are not in control here… I am the one who will decide what happens to you, brat!" Bakura reached up and smacked Yami across the face. Yami faltered, teetering from side to side, his eyes wide with shock. He had never been slapped before by anyone; not even his father.
"H-how dare you?! Do not forget that I am the one who released you, filth! I can just as easily call out to my father and have you executed immediately! Bakura grabbed his face, pulling it close to his own.
"And now… now I see what your father gave you. His wicked malice." Bakura whispered. Yami looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but an empty vessel for rage. Bakura finally released Yami from his grip. He moved behind him and loosened the rope a bit.
"There. Now walk, Pharaoh." he bellowed, pushing him forward slightly with his hand.
People whispered amongst themselves as they watched the young boy wander into their city. He was tanned from the hot Egypt sun, sweat rolling down his body. His face was covered in dirt and dried blood, a small scar flaming across his left cheek. His hair was white and filled with knots, his eyes deep and soulless.
Bakura looked around at the people of the city, his mouth parched. He wandered over to a local cart and took a sip from a barrel of water near-by.
"Hey, boy! You cannot do that unless you intend to pay for that water!" yelled the merchant. Bakura glared up at the man, his face twisting into an expression of rage. The man took a step back as Bakura began to growl, his teeth bared.
Bakura continued to wander, his throat now slowly recovering from the cool water. People moved quickly out of his path; strangers were not very welcome in their city.
"White-haired devil…" spoke a man quietly to his wife. "That child must have seen something incredibly hellish to have that kind of hair color…" Bakura looked over at them. The couple gasped and ran into a shop. Bakura looked down at his tattered clothes. He must have looked pitiful.
"Child of Set… Evil thing… White-haired devil…" The names and insults followed him closely as he continued to walk through the city. His shoulders drooped as he stared at the ground. Finally, a man spoke up.
"G-get out of our city, you devil! No one needs your evil here! We have enough troubles without you being here!" he shouted, throwing a stone at little Bakura. The stone soared through the air and hit Bakura straight in the nose.
He howled with pain, holding onto his bloody nose. The crowd looked at each other, and seeing no harm in doing so, all began to throw stones at Bakura. Bakura cowered, raising his arms defensively. Blindly, he ran through the crowd, running into things as he went. Rocks flew at him from all directions, cutting through his skin, making him bleed.
By the time he had passed through the gate and back out into the desert, his body was covered in bruises and blood, pain surging through his limbs. He fell to his knees in the sand, flopping forward onto his stomach. His breathing was short and hard, sand mixing with his blood and sticking to his cuts.
Bakura looked back at the city gates. They were now closed. He had been shunned. For the second time, the people whom he thought he could trust had cast him out. Sitting up, he tried to brush the sand from his body, but the excruciating throbbing of his wounds would not allow him to.
Tears fell from his eyes, making small pools in the sand. He curled up, wanting to die. His mother would have protected him…She would know what to do. Bakura's small shaking form, hot from the desert sun was only a tiny dot in Egypt.
"Stop it… stop crying, you whelp!" he began to tell to himself. "You piece of shit… get up! You stupid, stupid child!!" Bakura sat up, hitting himself across the face. "You worthless boy! How dare you rest while our soul is still writhing in agony! Bakura knows what he must do… Bakura will take his revenge on this hellish land!" he crooned, beginning to refer to himself in third person.
He howled with rage as his tears began to flow openly down his cheeks, his body writhing in pain.
"I hate you! I hate all of you! I want you all to die! I shall be the one to take your body and smash it… I shall run you through with my blade… I shall stone you all to death!" he ranted, his face contorting in anger. "In the end… the world will wither and shrivel to dust… and then, I shall be the last one standing…" Bakura's small laughter echoed through the desert as darkness descended upon Egypt.
Yami watched small dust clouds rise up from the ground as the pair continued to walk. He sighed deeply, wondering how he had ever gotten himself to agreed to this pointless charade.
"Where are we going, Bakura? I demand to know." he stated. Bakura just stared forward, his face expressionless. Yami decided to just give up speaking to him and focus on a way to get out of the situation.
Just as he had begun to think, Bakura stopped him. Yami looked back at him.
"Why are we stopping? We're in the middle of the cursed desert, Bakura! Have you lost your mind?" he protested. Bakura let out a small laugh.
"Sorry, Pharaoh. My mind was lost a very long time ago. Behold! KuruEruna!" he cried out, pointing downward. Yami blinked in the darkness, looking down toward where Bakura was pointing. The darkness made it too hard to see.
"Bakura… I see nothing. Are you positive?" he questioned. Bakura seemed a bit nutty to him… It was possible that all he wanted to do was drag him out into the desert and kill him.
Suddenly, the sun began to creep over the horizon, the desert illuminated with bright light. Yami blinked in the sudden change. His eyes slowly came into focus…
Yami gasped, his eyes wandering over the ruins of an ancient village. What looked like buildings were crumbling to dust, scorch marks on their stone sides. Old walls and foundations were all but gone, leaving the beholder with only a glimpse of what the village used to be.
Bakura grinned at the shock on Yami's face. Finally, Yami had finally seen what Bakura had wanted him to see. The burned remains of his memories; KuruEruna.
Well? What did everyone think of chapter three? * watches as three people give her a thumbs up * …Oh poo. I forgot. Nobody is bothering to read my story. * choked sob * Anyway, it's getting a bit more interesting, now isn't it? Heh heh. Hopefully this story will attract more readers… if not, I'll just continue to write for those who do appreciate this story. Thanks, and keep reading!