Bakura angrily stomped away dragging little Ryou close behind. Mariku looked on at Bakura slyly with a certain interest sparking. He decided he was bored with the snowmen and wanted to do something a little more fun. He disappeared in a blur of snow. Next thing, he knew he was in Bakura's front yard; just where he wanted to be.
Slowly he entered the broken down home. There was no light other than the light of the moon shining through a large window in the living room and kitchen. Things were scattered, broken, and torn in every inch of the first floor. The second looked no better. The walls were scratched up and old. There were signs of clawing as if there were a struggle at some point in time.
He heard a faint whimpering noise emitting from a bedroom conveniently placed above the living room.
"Still the same enchanting home it was three years ago." Mariku shook his head in disapproval and sweeped one finger across the mantal in the living room. There wasn't any dust to be found which meant little Ryou was at least good at house keeping. There were now two good qualities in the little Hikari.
"Beating and house-keeping," Mariku thought to himself.
The Tomb Keeper pulled the large armchair forward from its desilate corner and towards the fireplace and lit a fire in a fireplace using what seemed to be his unlimited source of magic. A wine glass; summoned to his leather gloved hand. He tasted the sweet white liquid and smiled thinly and contently. He set the fragile glass aside on a small side table and stared into the intense flames of the burning fire, witnessing the beating of the weak Hikari.
He heared pained screams, and violent words mixed with the extensive use of profanity. Mariku could not help but smile as he did; twisted and evil of course. He took up his glass and drank to the pain he so much loved. From the ceiling, one small drop of crimson fell. It mixed with the pure white of the wine, turning it a vile red color.
The arm chair inched back on its own, removing Mariku from the bloods given path. "How wonderful," he whispered enjoying every sweet moment of the pain the little Hikari was wrongfully receiving.
It was then that the screaming stopped, footsteps danced along the old wooden boards of the floor. The curious tomb robber felt the presence of one more. He stepped out of the room and proceeded down the hallway, stopping short of the tall flight of stairs. A red light danced on the wall at the base of the stairs. Bakura followed it suspiciously, coming to the living area and seeing his favorite armchair moved from its original space in the corner.
The chair turned slowly, the spikey-haired male applauding. "Bravo, what a stunning performance, Bakura," he complimented and continued to applaud.
"What the hell do you want?" Bakura hissed, glaring daggers at the intruding egyptian.
Mariku stood from the armchair and pushed Bakura roughly against the wall. His face was not far from the tomb robber's own. He stared intensly into the dark chocolate eyes of the dangerous man. There, within, he saw a flame burning strongly and deeply like no other he had seen before.
Suddenly, a warmth rushed throughout Mariku's fridged body. It was as if…as if a flame was just barely lit and was now burning within himself as well. This feeling of warmth felt wonderful, no unbelievable. He had never felt such a thing and he didn't' want it to go away.
"What the hell are you looking at?" Bakura sneered with one delicate brow arched high in annoyance and confusion.
Mariku was quiet. He wasn't sure what to say and wasn't quite sure what he was feeling exactly. Bakura only grew more annoyed and aggitated every second they just stood there.
"Get the hell out of my house and leave me alone," Bakura said coldly and as calmly as possible.
Mariku didn't want to be here, at least…not right now.
"Until next we meet." Mariku bowed politely to Bakura and disappeared. "Dumb ass…" Bakura hissed under his breath. He walked upstairs and went to his own room to go to bed.
Mariku was quick to return home. He spied his own Hikari quitely sitting in his room with a exciting novel written by an egyptian author. Mariku entered Malik's room quickly and threw the door closed behind himself. His Hikari looked away from his book.
"Where were you? Bashing snowmen again?" he joked. "Shut up," he spoke angrily.
Malik stood and set his novel aside for later reading. "What's wrong Mariku?" he inquired with a deep look of concern for his Yami.
Mariku was quick in attacking his Hikari, sending him a good blow to the stomach. Malik cried out and fell to the floor and was curled up tightly as pain coursed throughout his body. He was kicked in the groin then picked up and thrown onto the bed. Mariku beat his Hikari to a bloody pulp before leaving to go to bed. He had exhausted himself and obviously his bruised and beaten Hikari. He changed for bed and went to sleep.