little ol' horror known as TIME SKIP.
Yup, I jump forward by a year. Now, now, don't panic, it's all explained! ::dodges various
flying objects::
You see, this chapter is a filler / go-between of the second mini-arc of this story. You
know how in some shows there's an episode or two that wraps up the last arc and sets
everything up for the next one? That's what this is. I know, many of you are going to hate
me, but at least try to give it a shot. Who knows, maybe it won't be as bad as you think.
::grins hopefully::
Also, I went ahead and upped the rating for upcoming chapters, to those of you who were
wondering. It may not seem like R material, but this is we're talking about and I'm
not taking any chances.
Enjoy. (I hope.)
GUIDE
: Ryou to Bakura :
: : Bakura to Ryou : :
Blah is thoughts
-----
ONE YEAR LATER
RYOU'S POV
I still regret that night. I know it wasn't my fault, it wasn't like I pushed him or anything,
but I still feel guilty. Bakura tried to reason it, saying that if I hadn't dodged we'd both
would have fallen off the edge, but it is still a wound that runs deep.
At first, I had wanted to go back. I couldn't handle this life, I thought. I wasn't meant to
be a thief. I knew, though, that I could never truly go back; I wasn't just a thief. I was a
murderer, and no matter how accepting they had been, Yuugi and the others would never
have accepted that. Even Seto Kaiba would have shunned me for that act.
Each day that passed for several weeks I ached for home and for before. How had I
wanted this life, I wondered. How could I have longed for a life of thievery.... I know the
answer to that question, and it was the only thing that kept me from just giving up on
everything. It was the freedom I had to do what I wanted and to be who I choose to be. It
was the rush of being one step ahead of everybody else, of being a part of something that
most people could never understand. I was a part of something that most only dreamt of...
and I, even though I hated myself for it, loved every minute of it.
It didn't stop me from regretting that night. Instead, it made me make a vow never to kill
again. Malik and Marik scoffed a bit at first, saying that it came with the job description,
but once they saw that I wasn't joking, they let it go. Bakura never said anything of it, and
still don't know what he thinks. I guess it doesn't really matter. I'd stick to it whether he
liked it or not. Maybe that's why he stays silent.
The vow also helped me to become better. I reasoned that if I was a better thief, then it
was less likely I would ever put any innocents in harm's way. I trained hard, and even
asked Marik for some pointers. He seemed a bit surprised, but gave me some
hand-to-hand combat training, just in case. He showed me how to hurt my opponent the
most. I manipulated it so that they would be hurt, but not fatally or for life. I was a
defender, not on the offense.
It was also because of that vow and the subsequent training that I found my true niche. I
was a master at lifting things. I could take anything, in plain view of everyone, and not
have one person notice. As a game, I would often do this with Malik's Sennen Rod, or at
least I did until he threatened bodily harm with its hidden knife. I now only lift and hide his
other weapons and his jewelry. I'm not dumb enough to take anything of Marik's-- he
would kill me. Bakura, however, I will lift things from, but only if I am extremely bored. It
doesn't provoke the same reaction. Whereas Malik freaks out and rants, Bakura will just
ignore me entirely until I give whatever it was back to him.
I guess you could say I've come to terms with my chosen life for the most part. I do enjoy
it, but at times I wonder what life would have been like if I had stayed in Japan.
I suppose I should mention that I haven't been back there since I left. We've been all over
the world-- India, China, France, England, Russia, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, you name it,
we've been there. Our usual targets are priceless antiques, jewels, things from private
collectors, and basically anything shiny and worth money. We never hold onto what we
have for long, and usually sell it the next country we arrive in. We refuse to be hired,
unless we are really desperate for cash, which has only happened once this past year.
I'm out on the balcony of our hotel room, which overlooks a street bazaar below. We're
in Morocco for a little celebrating. We just pulled off our biggest heist to date, or at least
one I've been a part of, and have decided to take a week off. We just managed to plunder
an ancient Nubian king's tomb that had remained untouched. It was rare find indeed, and
I'll admit it, I had stolen everything that wasn't nailed down, but so did the others, so I
wasn't alone in my joy.
It's strange. I've turned into a regular kleptomaniac, often stealing things just because I
can. Thievery has become a drug, and I'm addicted. Even Bakura, King of Thieves, can't
understand my need for stealing anything I can get my hands on. He's a bit of a klepto, but
only for shiny things. Me, I'll steal, literally, anything. Eyeglasses, cups, lighters, clothes...
I've even stolen hubcaps. I used them as frisbees, throwing them randomly from atop
various buildings in the middle of the night. Rather amusing, if I do say so myself.
Yeah, I guess it's safe to say I've changed. Except for that vow I made, everything has
been gradual. Even my new abilities I've had to hone, and they still aren't perfect. That's
one of my goals-- to making my lifting skills perfect, and my other ones as well. Turns out
I'm good for casing places. I'm quiet and blend in if I try, and no one will remember me,
unlike my loud and sometimes (okay, usually) obnoxious comrades. There are times when
I wonder how they ever managed to steal things and not get caught before I came around.
I've also learned how to speak or at least have a workable knowledge of several
languages. I love languages, and often find myself imitating people's speech patterns. This
aggravates Marik, but not in a deadly way. I often will imitate his voice, and even Malik
will think its him. I'll do the same for Malik, and Marik will fall for it. Bakura never does,
though, and I have yet to figure out why. Maybe he just knows me that well, but most
likely he just takes a trip through my head to figure it out.
I've been thinking a lot lately about Yuugi and the others. Not sad thoughts, rather,
curious ones. Like what they're up to now, what has happened since I left, and what they
would think of me if they could see me now. They'd probably reject my lifestyle, I know.
Like I've said before, it's a reason why I can never truly go back. I've changed so much in
the past year. They probably wouldn't even recognize me.
My hair is still it's natural ivory, but I've cut it short. Not too short, mind you, but it's
now only about chin length. Long hair gets in the way sometimes. I used to try and keep it
in a pony tail or braid, but it got to be too much of hassle to keep up with and keep clean.
Finally I just took a pair of scissors and cut off my ponytail. I panicked afterwards,
regretting my decision, but I've grown used to it now and keep it short.
My style of clothes has changed as well. I had only packed two changes of clothes when I
left, and they all bit the dust fast. It's become custom for me as well as the others to adopt
the style of dress of whichever country we're in. Here I am in normal Arabic dress for a
young man, minus the turban. I learned once that it made natives a little too uncomfortable
and suspicious for an obvious outsider to try and blend in too much. I always make sure I
have at least one small thing out of place, but nothing that shouts 'I'm a foreigner!' too
much. I do like to blend in at least a little bit.
Places like this, however, are too crowded with too many people concerned about their
own business, and I am fine with that.
I still have only one bag of possessions to my name. A shirt; a small collection of
knickknacks I've taken; some knives, including the one Bakura gave me, which I always
carry on my person; some cash; the photo of my mother and my sister's locket; my
journals; and my sketch books. I often sketch scenes from places we're at and the people.
I have several sketches of the others, including Bakura working on plans, Malik sleeping,
and Marik cleaning a knife. I rarely show my sketches to them and they never ask to see
them.
I have filled two journals and am just starting my third. I always get small ones, so as not
to run out of room in my bag. I write daily if I can, and sometimes more than once. I still
write letters to Amane, usually in my journal itself. It's not that I don't know she's dead,
it's just that I still like to think she's around. I mean, I live and work with a spirit (Marik's
not really one, so he doesn't count) so whose to say she isn't one? Besides, I still miss her.
I only have my father left.
I once saw him at a dig in Egypt. We were on our way through, heading towards a tomb
Bakura remembered, and there he was as we passed by. He was arguing with a worker
and didn't even notice the black Rubicon as it passed. That was six months ago, and I
haven't seen him since, although we've been back to Egypt twice. It seems he's gotten on
with his life, which I guess isn't too far left field. He was rarely home and we barely knew
each other in truth.
This brings me back to Yuugi and the others. I wonder if they've gotten on with their
lives. I didn't know them very well, so it's probably safe to assume they have. I still
wonder, though.
I was sitting on the balcony's railing, leaning against the wall. I had one foot in front of
me, the other dangling off. I wasn't worried about falling. Besides, even I did, there were
plenty of awnings below to break my fall. The sun was setting, and it was still warm, but I
wasn't hot. These clothes were actually rather cool, despite their heavy appearance. I
heard footsteps and looked over to see Bakura walk out onto the balcony.
"There you are. What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Sitting," I replied nonchalantly.
"Well, get off your lazy ass and come celebrate with us," he said. I raised an eyebrow at
him.
"You just don't want to deal with a drunk Malik and Marik alone," I said.
"If you don't come down to the bar, I'll direct them to you," he threatened. I shrugged.
"I'll just go down to the bazaar. Lift something."
"Dammit Ryou! Get your ass down to that bar before I drag you down there!" he
growled. I smiled.
"Fine, fine, I'm coming," I said, jumping off the railing onto the balcony floor. I liked to
annoy Bakura, but I knew when enough was enough. Had I pushed further, he would've
carried his threat out and I would've spent the rest of the week off nursing several
wounds.
The life of an ijta indeed.
A/N: So... not as bad as you thought? ::crosses fingers:: I know it wasn't what you were
expecting, but I hope you can forgive me. The next arc is where it gets good, I promise!
Anyhow, I have a few random notes for you.
1. For some reason, I had Kurama from Yu Yu Hakusho in mind while I wrote this. I
don't know why, Kurama kills when forced to, but maybe you can draw some
connections on your own. If Ryou seems... weird... that's why.
2. Itja is Egyptian for "thief". No, I have NO CLUE how it's pronounced, as that
spelling is the transliteration, so don't ask me. ::is clueless as usual:: If you know, feel free
to drop me a line!
3. I'm not sure if you guys know (probably do if you're Ryou fans), but Amane is Ryou's
dead sister. The one he writes letters to, apparently.
4. Last thing... could you guys be ever so kind and tell all your fellow buddies to
check this story out? I love the reviews I get from all of you, but I can't help but be
greedy for more. ::is shameless:: Seriously, if you would, I'd appreciate it. I won't withold
chapters or anything if you don't, so don't feel like you need to if you don't want to. I'm
just asking, that's all. ::grins::