Ok, I made some changes to this chapter, then tried to replace the old one...only to upload the wrong file! I'm sorry! Thanks to hermioneandterras-twin16 for pointing that out. This is the real chapter one.
Please enjoy!
I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!
It is the year 2305. Advances in every area known to man has bloomed and flourished over the past fifty years. World wide peace, once only a dream, is now reality. The world has become one: races have united, and the saying "all man are equal" has never been truer. Hunger no longer has a grip on any area of the globe. Every citizen is provided for. Every person, young or old, male or female, receives the same amount of care
The government is now founded upon the saying, "From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs"
The basic laws are simple and to the point. When a person enters the age of twenty, he is an official adult. Adults must work a given number of hours, depending on what job he has. In return for his service, the government pays him the standard salary. The amount given to each and every worker is the same.
Any citizen under the age of twenty will be provided for by the government. They will have a home to live in and a guardian to watch over them.
Marriage must be applied for, and approved by the government.
An adult may live with two minors at most.
A person can only be a biological parent to two children. Applications must be filed before a couple can reproduce, and a child who is born must be registered with the government.
These, then, are some of the most basic laws of this world. There has been no protest against the government for years and years. The world is happy. The people are content.
In the mist of all this peace and happiness, our story begins.
Upon one dark night, when the auto-weather control system has covered the moon with clouds, the silence is split by a young child's cries.
"Oniichan?" the child crouched in the dark, shaking the limp body on the bed. "'niichan, wake up." The boy begged, sounding close to tears. "Wake up, please!"
But he got no response. The child gave up, and, crying, he snuggled close to the elder's cold body. Exhausted, he curled up under the older boy's arm and fell asleep.
Twenty-year-old Bakura Tokashi strolled down the street, eager to get home to his younger cousin. Ryou had been living with him for months now, and they had become quite close. The younger boy had become the light that lit up Bakura's home, and his presence was greatly welcome by the older teen, who had lived alone for years. Although modern technology made it very safe for even young children to stay home alone, nothing could replace the company of another human.
Bakura hurried on his way. He was the only person in sight, which was not surprising seeing as how it was past midnight. He had a habit of taking long strolls, to spend sometime alone with nature. Besides, anyone who was out would be driving a Crusier. Bakura thought those things were…well…they were convenient, it was true, but they made it impossible to even see the scenery passing by. No wonder more and more people were talking about cutting down what trees there were left.
Sighing, Bakura pushed these thoughts out of his head.
The next instant, he paused. He could've sworn he heard something. Although robbers and muggers and the type had become almost a myth, a thing of the distant past, there was still reason to be cautious. Embedded in the human is an instinct as old as mankind: to be cautious and suspicious of things one can hear but cannot see.
The noise became louder, and Bakura could identify human footsteps. He frowned. What was…whoever it was…doing out at this time of night? He knew not of another who enjoyed a late-night walk as he did.
He wasn't given much time to think the situation over. Presently, a figure emerged from a side-street and into sight.
Bakura relaxed. It was a child, for sure. The figure was very small and thin, no threat to the young man who watched it.
The child paused, and looked around. The light from a nearby street lamp was too dim for Bakura to clearly see his features. The man hesitated, wondering if he should ask the child was it was doing out alone so late. Surely the parents were worried. Speaking of which…why hadn't the security alarm attached to every child alerted the guardians of this one that the kid had left the house?
The child made up Bakura's mind for him. The man had been spotted, and the child approached slowly. Now the white-haired man could see that the kid was a boy, presumably around four or five. He frowned upon seeing what shape the little boy was in. Under this government, no one went hungry. That was what he had always believed. The leader of his land prided himself on his superb care for every living being. And yet, here was a boy, clearly in need of food and water.
The child paused about eight feet away, shyly peeking at the man from under his bangs. Bakura raised an eyebrow when he realized that the boy had muti-colored hair: mostly black, speckled with red at the tips, and blonde in the front. It was messy and unkept, but as impressive as Bakura's own long, platinum white locks.
"Hello there." Bakura said softly. "Are you lost?"
The child shook his head no. "I need help." He whispered after a moment's pause.
Bakura frowned. "What do you mean?"
The kid came slowly up to him, and stretched out a hand.
Bakura took it, curious as to what the little one had in mind.
To his surprise, the boy pulled him forward. Bakura followed willingly, sensing the urgency. He was led through a dark, narrow street, and soon entered a network of alleys. He had no idea how the child could know where he was going. His own sense of direction was soon thrown into chaos and he was completely lost.
Quite suddenly, they stopped. Bakura could just make out the outline of a small, old-fashioned home. The front door was open, and the child led him in.
Immediately, he could sense something was wrong. There was a strange stench in the air, and a feeling that made his hair stand on end. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to leave right away.
But the kid didn't let him go. Instead, he dragged Bakura down the hall and into a small room. The closer the got to their destination, the more Bakura wanted to go back.
And then they stopped again, and Bakura felt his hand released. He heard soft footsteps, and then the room was lit up by a dim light. Bakura looked over, and saw the child coming back towards him, an old flashlight in his hand. The thing was old, and very outdated. It was solar powered, batteries powered ones no longer existed. This particular type of flashlight was no longer made, it was so old.
The boy handed the flashlight to him, and he accepted. The boy then beckoned, and Bakura followed him even deeper into the house.
And for a third time, they stopped. This time, it was in what Bakura thought to be a bedroom. There was a bed in the corner, and a couch parked against the wall.
By this time, Bakura was fighting hard against the urge to run.
But the child showed no signs of leaving. Instead, he went over to the bed, where blankets were piled up. Climbing onto the mattress, the kid motioned for Bakura to come closer. The young man complied.
Looking down, he saw that the blankets covered the body of a boy who couldn't be older than fifteen.
"He won't wake up." The child spoke suddenly. "I tried and tried but he wouldn't wake up." The boy looked up at Bakura with hopeful eyes. The man swallowed: the boy's eyes were an eerie crimson. "Can you wake him?"
With a shaking hand, Bakura reached forward, and touched the still teen's face. He instantly drew his hand back. The body was ice-cold.
Bakura had never seen a dead body, let alone felt one. He had never seen someone die. But there was no doubt in his mind that the boy was dead.
The child was watching his every move. "He's been like this for days-" That explains the smell. Bakura thought. "-he just won't wake up."
"Is he your bother?" Bakura asked softly, a bit afraid to be in the presence of a dead body.
"Uh-huh." The child nodded.
"Where're your parents?" the man asked.
"Parents?" the boy cocked his head, apparently confused.
"Your mother and father?"
The child shook his head. "'niichan saids we ain't got none."
Bakura swallowed.
"Can you wake him?"
"I-" Bakura lowered his head. "He's not going to wake up." He said as gently as he could.
The child stared at him. "What do you mean?"
"He…he's dead."
The boy blinked, processing this new bit of information. Slowly, he said, "'niichan said Mama and Daddy were dead, and that's why they never came back." He titled his head looking thoughtful. In a tiny voice, and asked, "Does this mean 'niichan's not gonna ever wake again?"
"I'm afraid so." Bakura murmured.
At this, the child started to cry.
Startled, Bakura jumped. "Oh, now, don't cry!" he said desperately. "Don't cry, please! Come on, calm down!"
But the little boy didn't stop. He whimpered and wailed and buried himself next to his brother.
Sighing, Bakura did the only thing he could. He went over and scooped the child into his arms, rocking him gently until the wails became occasional sniffs.
"Don't worry. I'm going to take care of you." This promise he whispered, against his better judgment. Promises were laws. If an important promise is broken, a person might spend the rest of his life in jail. He was a barely a man, just moving out of the teenage years. He had no experience at childcare. Certainly he would not need to worry about money: the government would provide. But children needed much more than food and shelter. They needed love, and commitment. He already had Ryou to worry about. How was he ever going to raise a kid?
But then again, what else could he do? Leave the child here to fend for himself?
And so, Bakura found himself the guardian of a young child. A boy who was left alone in the world, and who had little knowledge of the new technology, or anything outside of the little house in the middle of the alleys.
What have I gotten myself into? Bakura thought in despair.
Looking down, he found the child had drifted off to sleep, a tiny fist clenching a fistful of his shirt.
The little boy's cheeks were still stained with tears, and Bakura brushed away the last drop. He couldn't help but smile when the boy shifted and pressed his face into the chest of the young man holding him.
It'll be alright. He assured himself. It'll be ok.
Slowly, taking care not to wake the boy, Bakura found his way out of the house. The old flashlight flickered in his hand, and he hoped it would hold out long enough for him to find his way back to the main street. Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, he found his Personal Terminal, commonly known as a PET. Tuning it on, his whispered a command, "Provide a map from here to my home."
Instantly, a detailed, yet very clear map popped up on the screen, accompanied by written instructions.
Shifting the boy in his arms to gain a more secure hold, Bakura started to leave. But at the door, he paused. Wit h a light sigh, he went back to the bedroom, and drew the top blanket over the young teen's head.
Leaving the house, he stepped through the front door and shut it securely. Before the door closed completely, a breeze blew through.
For the rest of his life, he never doubted that he heard a voice in that small breeze. It was the voice of the boy, soft and barely a whisper, but yet, strong and true.
"Thank you."