Young Blood by Mooguri Klaine
Author's Notes: My sincerest thanks to all readers and reviewers! I cannot thank you more than enough!
I still need your suggestions and ideas. I don't have a single inkling or idea of what will happen. Though I must admit, I am having fun writing this, despite the impending pressures of student life. looks at a textbook and promptly throws it away Help me! Help me! TT
There's a lot of YGO AU fics, especially in the realm of vampires and leather-clad men, of guns and steel, and of angst and romance. But what the heck! I feel like writing such grim and morbid alternative universe, so I don't give a damn. XD Enjoy it though...even if I don't have a plot for this yet Oo
Whee! I got your reviews from the previous chapters and it certainly made me feel elated! XD
To silver dragongurl: well, you're always my first reviewer, no matter what :D No surprises there...XD
To Skye Asuki: Hey, I saw your story, and it was a Seto/Jou fic! Glad you liked mine so far, even if it's Yami/Seto. As for the kick-ass story... blushes thanks for finding it that way! I'll try to live up to your expectations jumps up and raises both thumbs up
To Elusia: The third reviewer! I could kiss ya! And I love cookies, so thanks for giving me a bag! Now that you mentioned it...I did shift on my tenses A LOT of times, and I felt really dumb now, I see mistakes all over the place even if they're not...I must be getting paranoid...Oo Help? And as for the unknown character at the end of chapter two...you'll find that out here in this chappie! XD
To Minor Arcana: Hey, I'm beginning to read your story that you told me to look. So, I'll be reviewing anytime soon! Personally, I only have a little know-now about the YGO manga, particularly that of the Egyptian Arc...but I do have an unwavering interest on that wonderful piece of civilization. Ancient Egypt rocks! XD Oh and thanks for reviewing!
To Asayaka: Yes, yes, thanks a lot! I just got to love your constructive criticisms. Of course, I'm not a perfect writer; I'm just an amateur, so I gladly accept your suggestions looks at an English grammar book
To Venus: Awwwww! What you did was very sweet! hugs Venus You especially came bacjk just for it! And for that... hugs Venus even tight
Did I miss out on anyone? If I did, my apologies...my eyes are giving up on me...I GOTTA SLEEP!!! But I extend to you my thanks as well. Personally, I answer all reviews given if I have enough time for it. Don't worry, I'll allot some just for you! XD
Disclaimer: Short and simple, just the way it should be. Me no own, you no sue. (I got this from another author here! Sorry 'bout that :D) If you see some startling parallels, it's purely coincidental. Humans think alike, after all...in a way... XD
Warning:
Seto/Jou fan: What the hell is this shit?! (A/N: This is the kind of fan who hates Seto/Yami in any way and will do anything to eradicate it. I have yet to meet this kind of person, but let's just pray I don't. They could be a potential flamer... --)
Mooguri Klaine: What the hell are you doing here?! You're not supposed to be here in the first place! grabs a broom and sweeps the fan away
Yaoi Hater: pukes
God, what is this obscene material? Why are there elements of men doing crazy stuff with... MEN!
Mooguri Klaine: brings out a huge cannon and blasts the yaoi hater to smithereens
The same goes with you, jerk!
a crowd of Seto/Yami fans huddle closer, all fearful and feeling rather apprehensive towards the deranged writer
Mooguri Klaine sees the group
Mooguri Klaine: yells and beckons them closer
Come on, troop in and enjoy!
hides her weapons
A/N: I'm a nice person
cough cough
and I promise I don't bite! But if you just traipse in this fic to insult me and be a total asshole, then I have to dispatch you. Really. Otherwise, you are entitled to five-star hotel and world-class accommodations and freebies!)
Summary: A prince. A lover. A past. A thirst for blood. Enter a new alternate reality where the fearsome Prince of the Night walks, and begins a search for the man he had left behind after a long slumber, and in turn, hurls himself in a conflict woven out of love, hate, passion, and death. Will all events lead him to his lost romance? Read and Review!
Chapter Three: Truce
(A/N: Wait! Whether you're planning to review or not, at least drop your email address at the review section so I could give you a little something I managed to draw... Ok, that's enough intermission...)
"Haaaa...CHOO!"
Mokuba snickered. He pushed a steaming mug of hot chocolate to his older brother.
Seto sniffed. "Stupid, fucking cold," he cursed as he gingerly grabbed a tissue from the dispenser. He blew his nose for what seem like the umpteenth time, and quickly dispatched the used tissue to a nearby wastebasket.
"Language, big brother," Mokuba stared at him with a disapproving look. "You don't want me to pick something foul from you. Especially swearwords."
Seto snorted derisively. He just finished another entire box of Kleenex.
"And it's your fault you fell asleep outside, knowing that it was bound to rain."
"Shud ub, Bokuba," warned the older brother. Mokuba didn't heed this; his brother's voice was far too hilarious too be intimidating and frightening. Plus, Seto was looking worse for the wear. His oak-brown hair was all tousled up and disheveled, his sharp, pointed nose looked like it belonged to a certain reindeer's, his usually deep blue eyes now limpid and devoid of color. His pale face was some shades lighter still, making him look like sodden clay. And that was just the beginning.
Mokuba smiled goofily at him. "You look like hell, brother," he observed and gave a very impeccable comment. He lifted the mug to Seto's face, beckoning him to drink it. "But then, I suppose this is what you get for taking my books."
With a growl of disdain, Seto pulled out the electric thermometer out of his mouth. 38.7 degrees centigrade. Not good. "Bokuba, donbi an idiod," he started. "Yor buks hab noddin ta do wid dis rain."
"'Can't understand a bit of what you're saying," Mokuba shoved a basket of rolls on Seto's breakfast tray, almost upsetting the cup. "It's a good thing it's a Sunday, so you get a decent day-off. Then you'd better rest!" He gleefully threw a fist in the air, nodding eagerly as he went. "I'll take care of things! Just sit back and enjoy, okay?" And with more energy than intended, he jumped off the bed, and unknowingly sent the hot cup of chocolate spilling on the CEO's pajamas. By the time Seto was cursing the too-warm liquid, Mokuba had finally skated downstairs to prepare lunch...at 8 o'clock in the morning.
"Fuck," was all Seto could say, looking at the hopeless mess that was starting to spread on his clothes and bedsheets.
"Fuck?"
Atem, at this moment, took it upon himself to know more about the age he had woken up into. He realized that if he would be looking for Sekheth, he had to know the language of these mortals at the very least. This was definitely one of the repercussions he'd lovingly encountered after hurriedly leaving his High Priests. But there was no more turning back and Atem knew he had enough conviction to keep him alive, regardless of anything else.
And so far, he was not having much of a hard time. He learned by listening and watching people as they pass by, who were all oblivious of the Prince eavesdropping on them (he smartly decided to choose another spot where there would be more humans). He could only do this at night, of course; daylight is fatal to him, after all. All he had to do was sit inconspicuously on a bench, and pretend to read a newspaper - the word he had learned not too long ago - and listen to the small catches of conversation drifting past him. It also pays to be a wise character, where common sense and a bit of cunning were the most invaluable tools one could ever have, whatever the period one might fall into.
But before assimilating the new language, Atem must first assimilate the mortals' style of clothing. And there was a myriad of combinations to choose from. He saw bright-colored garments on some, plain or patterned, and dark and heavy hues on others. And it was not a surprise the sovereign preferred the latter. Yet there was still more options, until he laid his eyes on a particular passerby who was wearing a black, peculiar material, shiny and glossy, hugging the frame of the said mortal. Needless to say, it was wonderful. Atem even had the guts to approach the being and ask him about it. And according to the stranger, it was leather.
Naturally, to acquire it, he has to have something to barter in exchange for it: money. Which he lacked at that time. It was the cat - who was now his trusted companion - who gave him the idea, when it was nudging one of his countless golden accessories. Why not sell some of his possessions?
After a few minor mistakes and blunders, Atem made it to a "pawnshop". Again, it was all thanks to Bastet, the cat. The silent feline seemed to lead him to it, acting as if it knew all about the prince's plight. Now Atem was beginning to wonder if the creature was really a blessing from the gods, no matter how unlikely it would have been. According to his assumptions, the "pawnshop" was just like a typical buy-and-sell mat that had once existed in his own time, so things will be pretty much the same. He could barely understand whatever the woman was saying, so he just nodded his head and said "yes". The woman, however, shot him an odd look. "Foreigner?" she asked. "Yes," came the sovereign's reply, that word being uttered most often when people see him. "I am a foreigner" was his uncertain answer. The attendant seemed to be pleased about what he had said, and several awkward moments later, Atem left the place, holding a stash of what looked like to be money.
And so, several days later, he sat on one of his favorite benches with a newspaper, donned in crisp leather attire (long story how he got it), appearing just as normal as everybody else, though some people seem to eye him rather curiously. He had been collecting the said paper to know more about the humans and the world they occupy, and most specially, to learn more about their words and utterances which he was picking up quite amazingly.
"Fuck?" he asked again. Now, this word puzzled him. He had been hearing that word countless of times already. That and the word "shit". Is it some sort of greeting among humans?
It was now Thursday. Seto's slight fever was nothing but a vague memory, him recovering instantly after less than a day. So when Monday came, he was up and about the house, scolding Mokuba a bit about broken pieces of furniture and appliances, and calling his interior decorator for some "renovations" especially around the kitchen area.
"Yes, I know about that, you idiot. Do I look like some incompetent businessman?" Now he was venting his spleen on a particular subordinate while seated at the back of his limousine, which was a great way to start his Thursday morning, sarcastically speaking. Beside him was Mokuba, oblivious to his brother's tetchy mood, intently staring at the TV monitor just in front of him.
"Remind me to fire you when I see your pathetic ass in my office, okay? Good. Have a pleasant day." He hung up the mobile phone instantly, and dropped it irritably beside him. He allowed his eyes to linger for a moment outside the car, where rain continued to pour relentlessly, just as it did for four consecutive days.
"Don't be too hard on your employees, big brother," his younger brother spoke up, his blue-gray eyes never leaving the television screen.
"Oh? You would too if they are as useful as an empty inkbottle," he replied, then raised an eyebrow. "And since when did you become interested in my business dealings?"
"Ever since I realized you actually froze my ATM card," Mokuba said, glaring at Seto surreptitiously. "And I saw some striking parallels among your workers. You're being hard on me too, you know..."
The older Kaiba smirked. "Yes, Mokuba, I have to instill some level of control lest you be a rebel teenager."
"Oh, haha, I think you're doing a great job at it," shot the other sarcastically.
"Mokuba, your school's only a couple of blocks away," Seto started, stealing a glance from his watch as he did so. "So get to the point or I won't consider anything."
Mokuba sighed; indeed, his older brother doesn't miss a single trick. For the past days he had been intent on putting his brother off-guard, raging from blatant shouting to flashing his infamous puppy-dog eyes. But apparently, the older sibling was a tough nut to crack (though he almost gave in when Mokuba did the puppy-dog eyes routine until the CEO's cellphone rang).
"Okay," ebony-haired Mokuba turned off the TV and turned to his older brother. "Just...give me back my books...please?"
"No," Seto refused flatly, mentally rolling his blue eyes at his brother's seeming lack of comprehension, or just sheer stubbornness. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"
"BIG BROTHER!"
"Oh, we're here," Seto looked out to the rain-splattered window as he saw the school gates of Domino High. "Now, off you go then!" he clamped a reassuring hand on his younger brother's back and gently shoved him to the door. The driver appeared suddenly with a black umbrella as he opened the door for the young master.
Mokuba gritted his teeth in frustration as he got off the car. "Fine!" he huffed. "You know what? I hope you meet a real vampire, and when you do, I hope you come to your senses!" With a defiant 'humph', Mokuba slammed the door shut, not waiting nor hearing his brother's nonchalant reply.
"That won't happen at all."
Chocolate-brown eyes raked through an interesting painting hanging innocently on the wall, perched right in the middle landing of a grand staircase, creating a junction of separate sets of stairs, one leading to the left and one to the right. He lifted his pale hands on the canvas, feeling every brush stroke, accounting every single color used. He not only admired the painter who did the rather-laborious task of making it- he regarded little of it, actually - but the subject of the work itself.
It was a young man, barely out of adolescence, yet unmistakably bearing an air of maturity wonderfully captured on the canvas. He wore such elaborate garments, woven in high-quality material - a regal red cape lazily falling on his small yet firm shoulders and splashing down to the cobbled ground, coupled with a tunic just as magnificent as the former, hues alternating between deep gray and lustrous silver, hovering nicely just a little distance above his knees. A simple-looking belt acted as a balance to the illustrious clothing, unconsciously hugging the lithe waist. Strong and nimble-looking legs stood in a stance meant to intimidate and assume authority yet at the same time, the painter's use of soft lines suggested liquidity in movement and posture. Gold armbands complete with astonishing detail clasped on the upper arms and wrists that ended in long, elegant fingers adorned with rings of various gems and stones.
There was more.
Even the extravagant clothing couldn't take the attention away from the subject's face. He had the color of skin kissed by the sun, brown and glistening with luscious oil, a proud chin resting on top of a slender, swan-like neck. Even more striking was the vivid colors clashing on the youth's hair: blond streaks standing out behind battling hues of black, red, and violet and the peculiar way it stuck up on the air in a defiant manner, ending in several spikes. A few stray strands hung along with the wind making it look so soft and alive, despite its nature as a painting.
Yet there was still more.
Hiding behind the golden fringes was a pair of crimson eyes, like orbs of blood or a crystal goblet filled with red wine, stared unblinkingly, impassive at first, yet appearing expressive and eloquent upon further scrutiny. His eyes seemed seething with unfathomable strength and hidden power, a well of aura never seen before, all waiting for release. Those eyes, though eye-catching in itself, still managed to be framed by formidable lines of kohl, making it look startling and overwhelming to the beholder. A small nub of a nose sat in the middle of the prominent face, its sharp bridge complementing the taut cheeks flushed with apparent color. Soft and shy lips were clamped shut in a tight line, the feel of dominance and superiority palpable yet paradoxically hidden. [1]
The oak-colored eyes went past every single detail slowly, indulging himself with its splendor. A youthful boy in a commanding pose, magnificent and elaborate, yet at the same time, simple and humble. The former's eyes fluttered downward to the small golden plaque with strange writing, carved carefully and meticulously. His fingers stopped at it, muttering the label's content.
In today's tongue, it would be crudely translated to "the great house".
But in the language of the ancient, it was only comprised of one word.
Pharaoh.[2]
"I know you're there, just behind me," came his voice, deep and mocking. He whipped around carelessly.
"What are you doing here?"
"No welcoming party, how sad..." continued the voice. "After all the trouble of finding this place."
"You haven't answered my question."
"Don't be such an uptight jerk like your sister, Marik. It doesn't suit you," he said coolly as he eyed the apprehensive blond. "And while we're on her, where is she?"
"You're not supposed to be here. Ishizu made that clear a long time ago," Marik sent the unwanted visitor a sharp glare.
"Let me think..." the man frowned in mock concentration, staring at the domed ceiling above him. "That was three thousand years ago, give or take a few hundred years, correct?" Then he let out a dry chuckle. "And for that long a time, the contract has long been terminated. I came here for renewal. Happy now?" He crossed his arms and smirked at Marik.
"The First Brood reserves its right-"
"Yeah, yeah, quit your sappy talk about wannabe do-gooders like yourselves," cut off the impatient intruder, waving a dismissive hand irritably at the guardian. "Or do I have to break things apart just to see the priests?" He smiled maliciously as a blue-black orb materialized from his hand. Marik snarled in response, assuming a defensive stance, but backed a few paces away. Amber eyes met deep purple ones, both readying themselves for a possible attack.
Tense silence.
Then, hasty footsteps echoed through the long hall. Suddenly, there was a collective gasp.
"Is Mokuba home already?" Seto asked his chauffeur.
"Yes, Mr. Kaiba."
"Very well, go straight for the mansion."
The driver gave a curt nod and promptly closed the door. Seto brushed off stray drops of water that clung onto his suit. Sporadic rains still occurred every now and then, and Domino City is still drenched to this hour. The weather bureau claimed a slight tropical depression hitting the country and would die down eventually by the end of the week.
Seto picked up a small remote control and switched the TV to life. He lazily scanned the program lineups of various channels. Two hundred and three channels later, Seto couldn't find a SINGLE program that piqued his interest, making him wonder why cable companies earn so much given that there wasn't a "wide variety of options" in the first place, which they so overtly boasted. At least, that was his opinion about it. He would've cancelled his subscription if it weren't for Mokuba and his love for cartoons, or "anime", which his younger brother knowingly supplied. The young corporate stared blankly at a certain channel spouting an unknown language, and that's saying something; Seto knows, speaks, and understands at least seven different major world languages, all fluent and just as impeccable as his mother tongue.
He looked out to his window and saw, to his dismay, an ensuing traffic along the main road the limousine was currently trudging on. It was rush hour after all. He reached for the intercom.
"How long will we be on stop?" he called to the driver.
"I don't know, sir. There seems to be an accident ahead, and the police are rerouting the motorists."
"Damn," Seto muttered. "Get us out of this traffic. Go for the side roads. I want to be home in time for dinner."
"Yes, sir."
Seto cut off the connection and fixed his eyes on the television once again. He decided to go over the two hundred three channels once more.
"Tristan Taylor files a divorce..." Huh? I thought he just got married last Saturday?
"NO TO CORPORATE MONOPOLISTS!" Seto snorted and pressed the controller again.
A soap opera played on the screen. "You're the only one I love, I really do," a man said.
"And I...I love you too," said another voice. Seto froze and hastily proceeded to another channel but not fast enough. He just saw the man professing his love to...another man. Gee.
"Ore wa ta-n! Activate Mahou Ka-do, Majikaru Siruku Hato!" Now this one Seto could recognize, even if it's Japanese. He used to see Mokuba all over the screen watching it avidly. It was a cartoon entitled "Yu-Gi-Oh". [3] He didn't have time for this; he fiddled with the controller again.
Another channel. "La ciudad es muy bonita y tranquila tambien. Tiene muchos museos y varias monumentos historicas en el centro del pais..." Bien, pero no me gusta. [4]
Another channel. And another. And another. Until Seto's much-coveted attention was finally caught by a certain news program. A picture of a lady occupied at least one-fourth of the screen, located at the upper right. He'd seen that woman before.
"Calling all fans, old and new alike! After what seem to be like a lifetime of waiting, phenomenal national bestseller writer Isis finally decides to hold her first-ever press conference and book signing at the Domino Book Club, starting this coming Saturday," a newscaster piped in. Seto continued to listen.
"The revered authoress has not honored any live interviews or major appearances, much to her fans' dismay, over the course of her writing career. And after grueling requests from her readers and publishers, the author finally yielded to their pleas."
"So grab all your books, as it will only be a once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity. The event is open for all, however there will be reservations and invitations dished out for VIPs. This shall be a week-long convention, all to be commenced at night. Security is, rest assured by the authorities, a priority..."
Seto picked up his phone and flicked it open. Time to manipulate a few connections.
Ishizu opened her eyes, halting her long search for the runaway prince. Ever since the young Pharaoh left them, Ishizu had kept a silent watch over him. Unlike the humans, beings like them have a rather strong connection surpassing physical limits, thus they can sense each other's presence even from a thousand miles away.
But it proved to be a very strenuous activity for the otherwise strong woman like the priestess. Tracking the lost sheep was like looking for a stray hair among a sea of grass, especially of late. Somehow, their numbers have increased very significantly over the course of time. Therefore, every single one of them was added to Ishizu's psychic radar, much to her dislike. How was she supposed to find the prince if there were others jamming her "frequency"? (this term helpfully supplied by Karimu) She did feel a surge of power twice four days ago, and she could've sworn it was Atem. This consoled her a bit, yet troubled her as well; why would the Pharaoh use his powers so suddenly? Unless...
Ishizu shrugged this unnerving thought away. The Prince is safe; no one can harm him.
Unless... Another sliver of thought crossed her mind.
"Impossible," she muttered as she rose, and proceeded to extinguish the fading light from the candles. "It couldn't be him...He already left the Brethren a long time ago..." Yet she didn't find any comfort from this assumption at all. After more than a thousand years she still hadn't gotten used to the so-called "truce". It was a nagging thought occurring almost always, a sick paranoia that left her sleepless and worrisome. That man was not to be trusted, after all...
Then suddenly, without warning, she felt her heart constrict tightly in her chest. She knelt weakly on the ground as she clutched on her hood wearily. She felt it.
A presence of a vampire. And not just any common vampire.
Ishizu could've sworn her heart stopped beating. No other vampire apart from the First Brood can enter the premises of the heavily-guarded estate. No, the House was too protected by the ancient sorcery of the High Priests to be easily barged in. Somehow, the woman's worst fears finally ceased to be just mere apprehensions and thoughts. This time it was beginning to be...real...
And if that wasn't enough, Ishizu heard an earsplitting crash of glass above her, and sensed along with it, a release of the forbidden power of the Shadow.
Too weak to perform another round of incantations to will herself to teleport, the azure-eyed priestess hurtled out of the inner chamber as fast as she could, her heart thumping hard against her chest, never slowing its ever-quickening pace.
Ra, please don't let it be him...
It was a long way up, and Ishizu had no more time to spare. She hastily passed by long corridors and passages, flew past the myriad of silent paintings on the wall, not daring to pause for even a single second. Every step was hurried, yet it was so frustratingly slow and time-consuming, as if she was not even nearing the great hall at all. It was a long time since she last ran like this. Beads of cold sweat managed to break free, along with silent and frightened tears that welled up grudgingly from her cerulean eyes.
Then voices. It seemed Mahado and the others have already arrived.
Then laughter. Slow, maniacal, and mocking laughter.
Ishizu reached the place at last. Not mindful of her heavy breathing after that long run, she willed her eyes to survey the lavish hall...or what was left of it.
The crystal chandelier overhead was ripped violently away from the ceiling, and was now fallen to the ground below, shards of it splashed the marble floor like glistening tears. The force of the crash sent the porcelain vases to their doom, scattering the flowers on the floor like a perverse mosaic. Several paintings that hung on the wall fell out of it, their wooden and brass frames tangling forlornly.
"See what you made me do," drawled a voice. "I have to break an expensive chandelier just to get your attention!"
Ishizu was already certain of the intruder's identity even before she arrived, yet she could not help but heave a frightened gasp. After the course of three millennia, there was still no mistaking the piercing brown eyes, the malevolent sneer, and the helpless tangle of white hair.
"Bakura..."
Bakura stood defiantly over the mess of broken glass and stared at the newcomers, arms folded, and his mouth twisted upward in an evil smile. Behind him was Marik, who sustained a couple of injuries from the crash, and in turn, was hissing curses at him.
"Oh, Mawik's got a wee bit o' injuwy, poor baby," said Bakura in an impressive cuddly voice. "Why don't you run to your big sistew and let her heal your woundies?"
"Shut up, you bastard," spat Marik indignantly as he held on to the biggest wound that was on his arm. The blood that trickled forth vanished as the open injury slowly closed, formed into a scab, and finally healed itself completely. Marik glared at Bakura, the scratches on the former's face being nothing but a lingering memory as it was erased from the flawless visage.
"Impressive healing abilities," came Bakura's remark. "But then, don't we all have that? Vampires do recuperate faster physically than any other creature, after all..."
Marik stood with newfound strength as he shifted to an apprehensive battle stance.
"Marik, no!" cried Ishizu to her younger brother.
"Yes, listen to your sister and her wise words," Bakura began. "Not even a vampire like you can stand the Shadow..." He lifted his forefinger and aimed it at Marik, the Shadow orb floating silently above it.
Ishizu stepped up, her calm demeanor unnerving Bakura a bit. "Let the priests handle this, Marik," she said solemnly, her silent eyes raking at the lavender ones of her younger sibling. Marik hesitantly followed, and backed down slowly, yet readying himself all the same should there be another assault. The other faithful servants of Atem followed suit. Mahado, Karimu, and Shada closed in on the surprise visitor, and held out their ancient weapons.
"Interesting," murmured Bakura as he eyed the Shadow Items for the first time after three thousand years. Karimu held the Scale firmly with silent dignity in front of his chest while Shada thumbed the Ankh pendant that hung around his strong neck. Mahado's Shadow Ring glowed, the little trinkets tinkling as each caught the shimmering aura from its holder. Ishizu's hands crept up to her neck and clasped the cloak open, revealing the Necklace of the Fates, the all-knowing Eye of Ra twinkling ominously.
"I thought we made it clear for you not to show yourself to us for as long Time permits it?" Mahado appeared suddenly beside Bakura and grasped the latter's hand in a crushing grip. Bakura winced slightly in pain, the lethal orb vanishing from his threatening fingers.
"Mahado, believe me, the feeling is just as mutual," chuckled Bakura mirthlessly. "I did not do all this trouble just to see your butt-ugly face."
"But I might as well take the opportunity to give you a hug," Mahado cried in surprise as he felt white-haired Bakura buried his head on the former's chest.
Bakura's eyes glinted maliciously as he placed his palm on the priest's stomach, unleashing an unearthly force that blasted the startled Mahado away from the "embrace" and into a nearby pillar. There was a sickening crash, as smoke and dust flew about in the air.
"Mahado!" cried the other priests in unison. Ishizu approached quickly, only to be stopped by Shada with a silent and wary shrug.
"Don't tell me you fell for that, Mahado!" Bakura commented dryly, not leaving his eyes on the clouds of smoke that swirled around them. "Pick yourself up and attack!" he waited impatiently for the Priest of the Ring to stand and fight.
True enough, the curtain of dust finally subsided, impressively revealing Mahado behind it, a bit shaken, but still appeared to be unscathed. Without further delay, he sent his agile legs with remarkable speed throwing himself at Bakura, as punch after punch came swiftly on his face. The enemy was not to be intimidated easily as he dodged every single strike without as much as a blink of an eye.
"Come on, Mahado, you can do better than that!" he taunted as he deftly evaded another blow.
"Don't worry, it gets even better," whispered Mahado, both his hands enveloped with the black aura. He leapt away from Bakura and quickly dispatched the building stream of dark energy from his outstretched palms.
Ishizu watched the events unfold before her eyes. Her hands rested uneasily on her chest as she witnessed the ensuing battle. She felt sick of worry for her fellow priest. The Shadow is a formidable force to be reckoned with. The damage it can do greatly surpasses physical realms, a far cry from the broken strewn of property scattered around her feet. Fortune smiled on Mahado briefly; he escaped the point-blank attack with nothing but a few scratches and a singed suit. But how much more could his body take should he receive another powerful blow?
Bakura howled with glee, gliding past the orbs that flew. "After all this time, you are still as incompetent as a novice," he remarked, his back facing Mahado. Then he heard the sound of ripping fabric, as his shirt fell away from his body. "Great, you destroyed my clothes. Congratulations."
Mahado sent him a chilling stare, the glint in his blue-green eyes dangerous and forbidding.
"Don't even think that your looks-could-kill slogan can scare the living daylights out of me," Bakura sarcastically said. "Oh, I forgot, we're vampires. We're not supposed to be out in the sun. Haha." He turned around to look at the priest and to his surprise, saw him just inches away from his face.
"Dodge this," smirked Mahado, as he planted his left hand firmly on Bakura's shoulder and formed another black orb with his right hand. Bakura readied himself for the worst but no attack came. Instead, he saw the other man's hand directed the blow...
...to where the painting of the Pharaoh stood...
To Be Continued
Footnotes: [1] sweatdrops
That was one long description. Oo I don't know if the image appeared clearly to you as I hoped scratches head
Nevertheless, it was fun writing it
[2] Yes, the word 'Pharaoh' meant "the great house" in the Ancient Egyptian language. You won't believe that I got this piece of information from a CHILDREN'S BOOK (particularly my six-year old nephew's). Whoa, today's generation of kids continue to amaze me. Time will come second graders get to study calculus Oo shudders
[3] 'Ore wa ta-n! Activate Mahou Ka-do, Majikaru Siruku Hato!' would be crudely translated to: 'It's my turn! Activate Magic Card, Magical Silk Hats!' Hehe, I just can't resist the idea of putting the Yu-Gi-Oh series in this fic, along with Tristan's cameo appearance as an action star. XD
[4] 'La ciudad es muy bonita y tranquila tambien. Tiene muchas museos y varias monumentos historicas en el centro del pais...' This time, it's Spanish. 'The city is very beautiful and peaceful as well. It has many museums and various historical monuments.' As for Seto's reply, 'Bien, pero no me gusta.' It meant, 'Good, but I don't like it.' Wahahaha! I get to practice my rudimentary Spanish on you as well! XD
Author's Notes: Another chapter done! And still more to come! To all the readers who all took their time reading and reviewing, I thank you with the bottom of my heart! kisses reader
Let me ask you all again for a fresh round of suggestions and comments, because I badly need them. I don't have a plot and I don't want to let the concept die away, so please, please, and PLEASE extend your expertise to a lonesome writer such as myself! TT All ideas are welcome!
Another thing: If you plan to review, kindly add your email adds so I can send you a token my of gratitude, a personal attempt to draw Yami. Most people find it okay, so I might as well share it to you YGO enthusiasts! It won't do any major harm...don't worry smiles WRITE YOUR EMAIL ADDIES!
Check out more of my attempts to write a YGO fanfiction! And it's all under Seto/Yami... Merry-Go-Round, a twisted humor story about raging hormones and an unlikely detour to an amusement park winks The Unfaithful, where betrayal plays a key role among three persons (guess who they are!).
More to come! I asked permission from another revered authoress here, Lomelindi, about some stuff and I'm currently working on another story, which is set in Ancient Egypt. I don't know why; I just wanted to write simultaneous fics all at once, so I get to see how deranged I'll become after everything is said and done! XD
Artworks and trash galore! Visit my DeviantArt page, and see my frustrated artist side! XD
http colon slash slash www dot mooguriklaine dot deviantart dot com
This is ridiculous...I can't type the whole URL! It won't even appear...well, just follow what's above. I do hope you underdstood it. Oo
Okay, okay, enough talk! I got a Japanese exam coming up and it will be one nasty ordeal. Gods help me live through this! Kami-sama, TASUKETE!! ,,,
Thanks a lot and Rock on!