Day 16 (at most 14 days remaining)
"Okay Shizuka, what've we got?"
"A lot of dust," said Shizuka, squinting doubtfully through the doorway. "How long has it been?"
"Since what?" said Katsuya, easing the door open until it caught on something unseen. He scowled at it and tried pushing harder. "Since we've been here it's been five or six years, I think. Since our parents lived here, it's only been a month or so."
"I meant us." With increasing levels of alarm, she watched her brother struggle with the door. "I guess I forgot that even after we left, there were still people living here. You know what I mean? Like, after we left, life in this house should just have stopped."
"Yeah, I know," said Katsuya, giving the door another push. Something crackled ominously.
"Maybe you should stop pushing at it," suggested Shizuka. "There's probably something caught behind it."
"Alright, why don't you go see what it is?"
"Scared?" teased Shizuka gently.
"What? No way! I was just—I thought it would be better for me to stay out here. To push the door, I mean."
"I know," said Shizuka, smiling. "What could possibly scare my big brother?" She slipped through the doorway, and the shadowsof the house draped over her like a pall.
"Shizuka, be careful!" called Katsuya, rushing forward.
"Don't worry!" Shizuka waved reassuringly. "I'm fine! Let's see here…"
"I meant to watch out for falling projectiles, that kind of thing," said Katsuya hastily. "That's all, really…"
"Mm-hmm," said Shizuka. "Well, it looks like there's a box behind the door and that's why it won't open all the way. Want to help me pull it out?"
Together they managed to drag the box from its spot, into the faint rectangle of early morning light afforded by the doorway.
"Why's this thing so heavy?" demanded Katsuya, inspecting it with a scowl. It was, to all appearances, just a simple wooden box. His fingers searched for some way to open it, but the crack was too thin to wedge his fingers into, and the surface, though rather rough, afforded no purchase.
"Think people would buy it as is?" said Katsuya after a while.
"It's just a box," said Shizuka uncertainly.
"Yeah, but… it's got mystery! That's the thing. You never know what you're gonna get."
"But we don't even know what's in it. What if it was something important to our parents?"
"They're dead," said Katsuya bluntly. "Besides, even if it was important we'd probably wind up having to sell it anyway. That was a really good funeral we had for our parents, but it was really expensive. If we can't pay Howard back we'll be in really big trouble."
"It's not like our parents were poor," said Shizuka. "There's bound to be plenty of jewelry lying around."
"I just don't know if it'll be enough. But okay. Let's see what else we can find first."
They crept through the rooms for the better part of the day, feeling like intruders in what, not so long ago, used to be their house. Windows were discovered, various trinkets were uncovered, old memories were recovered… One by one, all manner of precious metals, stones, and cloths were exhumed and dumped unceremoniously into a pile by the box— gold, brass, electrum; turquoise, carnelian, lapis lazuli; fine silks, rare spices with exotic names, even a carefully if inexpertly painted stone that Katsuya recognized as being a 5-year-old Shizuka's handiwork but Shizuka didn't (or wouldn't) remember.
Even so…
"You know, Shizuka," said Katsuya uneasily, taking a seat on the box and scrutinizing the pile. "There doesn't seem to be as much stuff as I thought there would be. I mean… our parents could afford to live such a big house and still send us money while we were at our aunt's, but this is all we've found and…"
"You don't think it's enough?" said Shizuka worriedly. "Maybe we missed something?"
"I don't know," said Katsuya. "Howard's going to be asking a lot. I'm not sure how much, but it was something like 100 gold bracelets."
"What? Why so much?"
"We needed two tombs on short notice," said Katsuya, "and mummification can't be cheap. I wouldn't touch a dead body unless you paid me a fortune."
"Well," said Shizuka, "you want to see how much this will sell for?"
"Hey! I just remembered!" said Katsuya, jumping to his feet. "I just remembered what this box is for! It used to belong to a, a cousin or an uncle or something. We could never get it open so we just left it here in case he ever came back for it."
"Is it okay to sell it then?" said Shizuka.
"Why not? If he wanted it he should've come back and gotten it." Katsuya grinned widely, pushing money worries aside because Shizuka was starting to look worried and that was something he didn't want. "Let's bring this stuff down to the marketplace. Someone's got to buy it sooner or later."
"I think sooner." It was a few moments before it registered that the voice belonged to neither himself nor Shizuka.
"What? Who are you?" Katsuya spun around and found himself facing either the most highly amused person he'd ever seen, or just the most insane.
"Name's Bakura," said the man, bowing. He was very thin, Katsuya thought absently. "And that, there, is my box."
"That's fine," said Atemu. "I didn't really want to have to deal with another one today anyway."
"I'm very sorry," insisted Mahaado. "Katsuya was, until recently, living with his aunt and cousins, but his parents died suddenly. Only yesterday, he moved back to his parents' house. We only just missed him."
"That's fine," repeated Atemu. "I don't mind at all. You know where he is now?"
"Yes, we do," said Mahaado. "I know I said this yesterday, but he should be here tomorrow."
"I cannot contain my excitement," said Atemu.
"What do you mean, your box?" said Katsuya. The sun had apparently decided to set without giving notice, and the sliver of light gleaming on the horizon stabbed past Bakura's back and into Katsuya's eyes. All Katsuya could make out was white hair, on the long side, glowing lavendar in the backlight from the purple sunset.
"What, don't tell me your parents never told you about me? I'm deeply hurt…"
"You know my parents?" said Katsuya. Shizuka was getting restless and had moved to the doorway. Katsuya attempted to shield her with his body.
"Knew, Katsuya, knew," said Bakura. "Ah, and this is Shizuka, is it not? The last time I saw her she was still in my sister's womb. You have very lovely hair, Shizuka. You take after your grandmother."
"Your sister?" said Katsuya. "What, does that make you my uncle?"
"Yes, I do think so," said Bakura. "But I'd rather you thought of me as a cousin. Or, better yet, a brother. I'm not that old, you know."
"I think our aunt would've said something about having a brother!"
"She did have a brother, Katsuya. That would be your father. She's not related to me at all, except as an in-law."
"Our parents, then. They would've said something."
"I could understand why they might not have mentioned anything. Every family has their skeletons in the closet, so to speak. In this family, that would be me." He peered down at his hand, a show of concern playing across his countenance. With his head tipped just so, Katsuya could see a series of three scars, pale against Bakura's tanned cheek. "Although I am slightly lacking in the visible bones department. Anyway, I want my box back"
"This is your box?"
"I think I said that already, but yes, this is my box. Your parents were just holding it for me, and now I'm back for it."
"Look, we can't just give you the box. We don't even know you."
"Fine, fine, I'll buy it. But I haven't got much by way of currency."
"Then how are you supposed to b—?"
"Calm down, calm down. How about this? I'll take care of your debt to Howard. Okay?"
"But you just said you haven't got any money…"
"No," said Bakura. "I've got something better."
"Hey, wait," hissed Katsuya. "How did you know we owed him money?"
"Shush," snapped Bakura. "And give me a hand pushing this stone, would you?"
"How. Did you. Do that?" panted Katsuya, as he sank down into his seat.
"Do what?" asked Bakura innocently, taking a drink of his barley beer.
"You know what I mean!" Katsuya downed his cup in one swallow, wiped his mouth, and then continued glaring at Bakura. "You made Howard think that huge rock was made of solid gold!"
"It was, Katsuya," said Bakura solemnly.
"No it wasn't! You could see the wet spots where there'd been lichen growing on it! It was just a big gray rock!"
"Appearances can be so deceiving, Katsuya," said Bakura, shaking his head. He had taken out a small but very well polished dagger and was playing with it. Katsuya watched the blade jump from hand to calloused hand, saw his reflection fill its surface and then, impossibly, get sliced in half by itself.
"Come on," said Katsuya, although his voice lacked conviction as he stared at the knife. "Tell me what you did."
"Call it a Gift," said Bakura, grinning. "Now, I really must be on my way. If I could have that box…"
"No," said Katsuya.
"No?" said Bakura. Katsuya noticed that the dagger had stopped spinning, and that Bakura's hand had tightened around it.
"No. You didn't pay Howard what we owed him. You just tricked him into believing it."
"What difference does it make?" said Bakura. He didn't seem so amused now. "Either way, your debts are paid."
"No they're not! We owe Howard money, we didn't pay him money. Sooner or later it's going to catch up with us… probably in the afterlife."
"Look," said Bakura. Stab, went the knife, and it plowed through a loaf of bread. "Keith Howard was not a nice man. Do you want to know all the things he's done to you and your family? Let's see…" He extended his index finger. "First, he terrorized your parents for money, saying they owed him when they obviously didn't. Why do you think they sent you away? They didn't want you to be there to see the men in dark cloaks coming over and threatening them for everything they'd got. Next," Bakura raised another finger, "when your parents finally decided they were done with him, he sent people to kill them. While they were at it, they looted the house, though they left a bit because they couldn't carry it all."
"He killed—" sputtered Katsuya.
"Shush. Listen." Another finger. "Then he decided to befriend the offspring of these people he'd tricked for so long. And you know what? It runs in the family. You fell right for his trap. Oh, boo-hoo, I knew your parents, I want to help you. Here, let me pay for your parents' burial? Katsuya, people are not kind. You can't believe them. And then he turns right around and says, By the way, you owe me an impossible amount of gold, which could have afforded a funeral about 10 times more lavish. Maybe 15 if you're good at bartering. Sure, you're young and look pretty guileless. The embalmers would probably have charged you extra, because they'd have known they'd be able to get away with it, but not this much. And you know what?" Bakura had run out of fingers. He fisted his hands and put them back down. "Even if you had paid him what he'd asked for, he would've said, 'Oops, no, didn't you hear me? I asked for two hundred bracelets.' Or 'Oh, but since you've taken so long, I've decided to charge interest.' And you would never have been able to pay off your 'debt.' And then when Howard got impatient, he would've sold the two of you to the slave traders, taken the money he got from that, and moved on to another unsuspecting victim. He got what he deserved. A big rock. It was a bit misplaced, though; I would've preferred it on his head."
"How do you know all this?" said Katsuya, after a pause.
"I like to keep up with my family, see what they're up to." Bakura smirked at Katsuya's blank look. "Or, in simpler terms, I've been spying. Anyway, now can I have the box?"
"Sure, take it," said Katsuya. "I don't know how it'll help you, though. You can't open it."
"You can't, maybe," said Bakura. "But it's my box. It'll open for me."
"Really?" said Katsuya. "Open it then."
"Here? I don't think so." Bakura stood.
"Oh come on! Now I really want to know what's in it."
"Too bad," said Bakura.
"I thought you said we were family!"
Bakura rolled his eyes, sat back down. "Fine," he said. "I'll tell you, but there's no way I'm showing you. Remember what I said about skeletons in the closet? That wasn't all figurative. I used to rob pyramids for a living."
"What?"
"Yes, bring all the royal officials down on us, why don't you," said Bakura sarcastically, shooting wary looks over his shoulders. "I was really good. Touzoku Ou, they called me. Thief King. Has a certain ring, doesn't it? But then I quit, and I gave my gear to your mother for safekeeping."
"Why?"
"Why'd I quit? Or why'd I give it to her?"
"Both!"
Sigh. "Nosy, aren't you. Well, I promised my brother (he was 8 at them time, and I was 15) that I would stop, and I knew if I had my stuff I would always be tempted. Your mother though, she was a saint. Who better to hold onto a bunch of highly illegal equipment?"
"But you could have gotten her in trouble!"
"You saw how hard the box was to open. Anyway, she was in enough trouble of her own."
"That's true…" said Katsuya, trailing off, a sure sign that he was thinking hard. "Wait! Why do you want it back now? You're not going back into…"
"Pyramid-robbing? Tomb-raiding? Why yes I am."
"But you quit! You promised your brother…"
"Yes, I did. And until about four, five days ago, I lived with him and my mother, happily ever after. And then I went out to trade for some, I don't know, I think it was cloth my mother wanted. When I came back—" Bakura bit out a harsh chuckle. "They'd taken him away."
"Taken who away?"
"My brother, idiot. The pharaoh was going to kill him for being, being family. After that I really had no reason to stick around. I figure I'll open up some more pyramids, make trouble for the pharaoh. If I steal enough treasure I can bribe support off of the nomads who're at war with us and then won't our pharaoh be in trouble."
Katsuya gaped.
"Well, enough chatting for the day. Lots of work to do, those tombs won't rob themselves. Oh yes… You don't remember anything we've talked about today, am I right?"
"Ah…"
"Woosh," said Bakura softly, "woosh…"
"What?"
"Oh, just an allusion I thought up. Your memory is like sand dunes, Katsuya. Very impressionable. Sometimes a camel might walk across them, leave footprints, but you might think it was, say, a human, because the prints look similar in the sand. You don't want to give people mistaken information, now do you? Best to let the wind blow the prints away, don't you think?"
"That has got to be the lamest thing I've ever…"
"Woosh," said Bakura. "Just keep that in mind. Bye then." He waved, and the fingers of his hand put Katsuya in mind of sand rippling in the wind. Katsuya could practically taste the sand in his mouth, feel the sting on his face, and then Bakura was gone.
"What a weird guy," said Katsuya, shaking his head as if to clear the vision.
"Didn't he say that…" said Shizuka.
"Hm?"
"I mean, the pharaoh killed his brother, right?"
"Yeah?"
"Because his brother was related to the pharaoh?"
"Uh huh."
"And Bakura's our uncle?"
"That's what he said," said Katsuya slowly.
"So wouldn't that make us also related to the pharaoh…?"
"Um…"
"Excuse me," came an unfamiliar voice from somewhere behind them, along with the metallic sound of a sword being taken out of its sheath.
"Have you completed the Items?" There was a hint of tenseness usually not present in the pharaoh's voice, as he carefully capitalized the "I" in "Items".
"No, Yuugiou, I have not. All the physical forms are molded, but the proper incantations have yet to be set upon them."
"How much longer?"
"Would you like to see your Item, the Puzzle?"
The best way to deal with this blatant refusal to answer his question was to press on as well as he could. "Let's see it then."
The cowled head nodded. From the depths of the robe was procured an exquisite golden pyramid.
"Are you holding it upside down?" suggested the pharaoh.
"No, Yuugiou, I am not. This is how it is worn."
"Worn? Like a necklace?"
"More like a pendant."
"I see."
"I hope it pleases you, Yuugiou. It shall be, if the ritual is successful, the carrier of your ba for the next few thousand years."
"Really," said the pharaoh. "I hope you've put in plenty of food."
"My pharaoh is pleased to joke," said the hooded figure, which was the polite way of saying, 'You've got to be kidding me,' to someone who could, with a word, have you taken away for a quick date with the executioner, and then refitted for a set of new, hoodless robes. "Your ba does not need physical nourishment. Even if it did, within a few years of being locked in darkness, the pieces of your ba broken and scattered, you would cease being sane enough to care."
"Oh. Well. Now I know what kind of nightmares I'm going to be having for the next few months. In any case, I must be going back to the palace now. Carry on, then," the pharaoh said, and added under his breath, "but not too quickly, please…"