Disclaimer: Throughout the writing of this insanely extended one-shot, I have lamented the fact that not only do I not own Yu-gi-oh, but I don't own the delicious, psychotic bishies that I write about. This fact has caused me great sorrow. The only way to aleviate this sorrow is to press the little button on the bottom and give me a pretty little review. That way I won't have to kill you.
Author's Note: I have finally introduced Malik into the picture. Don't get too attached.
Malik idly pushed the french fries around his plate, setting them up in intricate little designs. He added splotches of ketchup here and there, beaming with pride over his culinary creation.
"Hey, nee-san!"
"Hmmm?"
"Look at this! Isn't it pretty?"
Isis glanced up from her salad to eye the mass of french fries practically quivering on her brother's plate. She blinked a few times and then smiled indulgently.
"It's lovely," she said. "Now why don't you eat it instead of playing with it?"
Malik shrugged and began shoving the french fries in his mouth, pausing as a little structure he had created with them collapsed into the ketchup with a splat. He shook his platinum locks in sadness and continued to eat.
Isis watched her brother fondly as she brought a forkful of lettuce to her mouth. He had not complained when her exhibit had brought her back to Domino City. He had agreed immediately upon her request to accompany her to the city where he probably felt he belonged least in the world. She had told him she needed his help setting it up and keeping an eye on the museum when she herself could not be there, cautioning him to be safe, as there were doubtlessly numerous Guru's still wandering around hungering for vengeance. That was one of the reasons Pharaoh had allowed the boy to retain the Sennen Rod. She had convinced him she could not do this without his presence.
Truth be told, she wanted to keep an eye on him.
He had been having…setbacks concerning the darkness lurking in the back of his mind. His yami in the truest sense of the word, the creature was not bound to his Sennen Rod, but instead was a permanent part of him, leaving behind the almost constant threat of his re-emergence. Malik had been put on medications, but sometimes, they simply did not work.
She raised a slender hand to her throat and once more mourned the moment of weakness that had allowed her to give her Tauk to the Pharaoh.
"Nee-san?"
She was jerked out of her thoughts violently, her fork falling to the table. Cerulean orbs rose to meet vivid concern-filled lavender
"Are you all right, nee-san?"
"Yes, Malik, I'm fine." She took a deep breath and snatched up her fork, dusting it off slightly. "I'm sorry if I worried you. I just…have a lot on my mind."
"You work too much, nee-san," he said, eyes narrowing slightly. "You really need to take a break. The stress is taking its toll on you."
"Once this week is over with, I can," she said, lifting a hand to massage her forehead.
"Promise?"
"I promise." She smiled at him. "Rishid and I will take you to that zoo you've wanted to go to."
Malik grinned in pleasure, one hand dipping to stroke the side of the Sennen Rod. He could feel its power pulsing beneath its cold exterior, and it soothed him in ways that even his sister and Rishid could not.
The siblings finished their meal, chatting idly about nothing in particular. They grew silent, however, as a news program blared its bulletin from the television perched near their table.
"The 16-year-old boy, Honda Hiroto, is still missing. Any information you may have would be deeply appreciated. Please call the number at the bottom of the screen if you have any clues pertaining to his disappearance."
Malik studied the screen sadly, his lavender eyes darkening. He opened his mouth to talk, but he was cut off by a loud ringing.
Isis lifted her cell phone to her ear and listened to her caller intently. When they were finished, she sighed and snapped it shut, putting it back into her purse. She daintily dabbed at her lips with her napkin and pushed her chair back.
"I have to go to the museum, Malik," she said softly. "Some historian I was supposed to meet with decided it would be a brilliant idea to show up early." Her brother looked crestfallen, which made her wince slightly. "I'm sorry, Malik. I'll be home for dinner."
He nodded and did not look up from his plate as his sister rose and approached the cash register to pay. He did not move as she watched him momentarily, and then sighed and swept out of the restaurant, striding away purposefully.
He remained still and silent for some time.
Finally he rose, fishing the keys to his motorcycle out of his pocket and running a hand through his sandy locks. As he left the restaurant and slipped onto his bike, settling the helmet over his head, he did not notice the pair of crimson eyes watching him intently.
As he revved his motor and sped off, laughter followed.
Malik nearly dropped his keys fitting them into his front door. Not understanding why he felt so jittery, he cursed himself and kept trying until he successfully opened the door. Slipping inside, he tossed his keys onto a little table and paused, staring into the mirror set above it.
His eyes were lined with dark circles, and his cheeks were thinned out. His bright lavender eyes had not lost their sheen, however the rest of him insisted on wasting away. The constant battle against his yami took a lot out of him, and he had taken to sleeping irregularly and eating even more infrequently. The only times his family could be assured that he actually ate the food prepared was when they took him out, which was why Isis had made it a habit to go out to lunch with him. They thought he did not know, that he was too blind to see how contrived their "discussions" were when they were deciding what to do for dinner.
He hated being coddled. He hated being treated like a small child. He especially hated everyone walking on pins and needles around him in fear of inciting his wrath and bringing out his darker aspect.
They didn't understand.
His yami was always there, whispering in the back of his mind; taunting, promising, cajoling, snickering. His yami had offered him the world once, and when that had failed, had promised him the hand of the girl he had inexorably fallen in love with during Battle City. The medications succeeded in silencing the creature once in a while; not often enough.
He twitched and pushed back the urge to smash his fist into the mirror, to destroy the reflection of the person he hated the most.
It's all his fault, the voice giggled. Let me take care of him, and you won't be in pain anymore.
Malik knew the voice was lying; it changed its offers to suit its mood.
He had nearly forgotten what it was like to be alone in his own mind.
He shook his head, sandy locks flying, and made his way into the kitchen. He noticed a note tacked to the table, scribbling out that Rishid had gone to the museum to help out Isis, and that he would be back for dinner.
Malik repressed a snort. They should just get married and get the foolishness over with.
Opening the fridge, he dispassionately pulled out a carton of orange juice and poured a small glass full of the tangy liquid. He sipped it a few times and then dumped the rest, leaving the glass in the sink. He turned and made his way upstairs, gliding down the dark hallway with ease as he slipped into his dark, chilly bedroom. Kicking the door shut behind him and flipping on the lights, he swore and jumped back as he was greeted by the sight of a white-haired teenager sprawled out on his bed.
His jaw clenched. "Bakura!"
The boy rolled onto his side languidly, a grin splitting his face. "Long time no see, little peacock…"
Malik backed away until he hit the hard wood of his door. Frowning, his hand fell to his Sennen Rod, which he drew and held in front of him defensively. "What do you want?"
"You should know what I want," the boy drawled lazily, pausing momentarily to cackle with glee. "You never did fulfill your agreement."
"Agreement?"
Bakura's eyes flicked down to the Rod. "You are holding My possession," he said, rolling off the bed and shrugging his shoulders lazily. He took a few steps forward, Ring glowing. "I think it's about time I've come to collect."
Malik hissed, grabbing his Rod tighter. Suddenly a flash of pain erupted from the back of his skull and he cried out, nearly dropping the Rod as he kneeled down, clutching at his head desperately.
"No," he moaned. "Not now…"
Let me out! You were weak compared to him before, and I sense he has four Sennen Items at his disposal!
"Go away!"
You will die here in this accursed hellhole you call a home if you don't let me out. He will stand over your broken body and laugh with glee as he takes away your Rod and your girl.
"Stop it!"
I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO THWART ME, MORTAL!
Malik let out a sharp cry and then went silent, slowly rising to his feet. His sandy hair flared out about his head like a spiky, unholy halo. His eyes darkened, their pupil-less depths dead and passionless. His mouth twisted into a smirk as he regarded the thief with amusement.
"Long time no see."
Bakura frowned; he hadn't expected Yami no Malik to still be around.
"Give Me the Rod as promised!" he demanded once more, crimson eyes narrowed.
Yami no Malik snickered. "Looks like once again, we're going to have to play a yami no game to see who comes out of this alive."
"I look forward to it."
"Just remember how the last one ended."
Yami no Malik threw back his head and laughed as he summoned the darkness to himself. "This time, nothing will save you."
