I DO NOT OWN YGO!
Prologue:
Thunder struck again and again, never hitting the same place twice. Or so onlookers thought. By one small chance, mayhap invoked by the power of God as one could say, a small area was hit twice…in the same exact place. Modern science says that this is virtually impossible, yet as the glow resides, nothing happens.
Or so people think.
Chapter One: Meeting
A blur of silver followed by a motorcycle swerved onto the lane, causing a gust of gas, dust, and ash to hit the many faces of passing people. Most of them shook their face, disgusted, but they were used to it; after all, the New Era of Police was always chasing teenagers and gangsters nowadays.
Among the many people hit by their dust, a teen with wild white hair growled in annoyance and anger.
Just add to my crappy day, Bakura thought, clenching his fists. Adjusting his side bag's strap, he hurried towards his rendezvous point, and took care to stay as far away from the road as possible.
I get fired, Bakura fumed, wedging himself between a couple to get through, for that damn idiot's mistake!
His attire of a black turtleneck and faded blue jeans caught the attention of a salesman, who stepped forward to ask a survey question.
"Sir, would you please comment of the AI Corporation disaster-"
Bakura shoved the man out of the way and turned the corner, leaving the evaluator stunned in his wake. The surveyor stared after him in disbelief, thinking about moody bums and their problems.
But Bakura was not even close to that of a bum. Oh, no. He was a millionaire…or at least the son of one. Aside from the fact that his father was a prick, Bakura grew up with a normal childhood. He attended high-class schools, receiving low yet passing grades in class, yet almost a perfect on his SATs.
This student had become an accountant until a few minutes ago, where his partner was caught trying to filch money into a personal account of his own. And for some reason, the workers thought he was in on the plan.
Why the frick would he need more money? He had all that he flipping needed!
"Bakura!"
Gritting his teeth in the shortest of patience, the youth stopped a few feet from a road crossing and glared at his limo driver.
"What do you want, Marik?"
"Get in," the driver said, shaking his sandy hair before pushing an automatic door-opening button. "You have an appointment you can't afford to miss."
"But I have a-"
"Your father's orders."
Grumbling something about his father's oh so bright ideas, Bakura threw off his bag and tossed it into the car before stepping into the vehicle himself.
Without wasting another moment, Marik excelled towards the Teishin Manor.
-Teishin Manor-
"Bakura, how many times do I have to remind you that timing is everything!"
Bakura rolled his dark violet eyes as his father ranted on about how missing a meeting determining his future was so important.
"Dad, I'm not even going to inherit your company," Bakura said coolly.
Mr. Teishin glowered at his son, and cursed loudly. "You got fired from that corporation! How do you expect to make a living?" Before his son could answer, however, Mr. Teishin continued, "The press was all over it! They say that my successor will be my ruin! They don't even know that you're not taking my company! We need to boost your public image."
"Okay," Bakura said, sighing. "Just donate a bunch of money to some charity place in my name."
Mr. Teishin's face looked flammable for a moment, before he smiled coldly. "No, I have a much better idea. It would get you off my hands for a while. Yes…"
Bakura hated the fact that his father (if he could even be called that) made all his decisions for him.
"I want you to go to Mrs. Tomoki's orphanage, and pick up a child. Then-"
"Hell no!"
Slap!
Glaring daggers, Bakura shouted, "I am not going to take care of a peeing, vomiting, crying baby! You do it! And if you think that-"
"If you fall, I fall with you. If it comes to that, I will disown you, and ban you from ever seeing your mother again!"
Bakura fell silent, seething in anger. This isn't fair, he thought.
"Tomorrow, Tomoki's Orphanage, 9:00."
"Yes, father," Bakura sneered, turning away in contempt.
-Tomoki's Orphanage-
Bakura watched as all the kids lined up. Youngest to oldest, they all looked eager to go home with him, except for a few who were trying to look withdrawn to attract attention.
He almost writhed in disgust as the kids all bowed to him. Some ran up to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the rusted playground.
"Let go," he said, trying to force himself to remain composed. It didn't last very long. "Get off of me!"
The children scattered, and Mrs. Tomoki walked out, smiling.
"Hello, sir," she said cheerfully, her blind eyes looking past him. "What brings you here today?"
"I am Mr. Teishin's son."
"Ah, yes, yes." The woman frowned. "Please, do come in."
Bakura was led into the humble abode and into a cramped boxlike room called the main office. After refusing a cup of coffee, Bakura leaned towards the lady and harshly said, "Listen. I need a kid that I can ditch after a few days. I'll bring him back unharmed, but I don't wanna keep him."
His request was met by silence.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Teishin, but I do not rent out children who have hopes of a good home, only to have their dreams shattered by a greedy and rich politician like you."
Bakura sighed. "I don't think you understand. You don't have a choice, unless you want this place sold off."
More silence.
"I have one child that you may…borrow."
"That's more like it," Bakura mumbled as Mrs. Tomoki got out of her seat to fetch the child. Before she left, she handed Bakura a sheet:
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-Name: Ryou Balxander
-Age: 6
-Gender: Male
-D.O.B.: N/A
-Race: N/A
-Background: father abandoned him near the river (threw the child into the water) and ran off. Child was recovered, and showed signs of child abuse.
-Likes/Dislikes: N/A
-Hobbies/Behavior: N/A
---------------------------------------------------
Bakura wrinkled his nose as he finished reading the oh-so-descriptive sheet, but straightened as Mrs. Tomoki hobbled in with a small child trailing her.
"This is Ryou." As she fumbled around for the proper paperwork, Bakura studied the boy, who averted his gaze towards his beat up shoes.
The child had snow-white hair, almost similar to that of Bakura's. A loose white wool shirt revealed that the child was underfed, and the faded and holed pants showed signs of lack of attention.
"Here are the papers."
This week was going to be horrible. Just horrible.
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-I couldn't remember or find Bakura's last name, so I made one up. Same with Ryou.
There will be no use of Japanese language in this fic (hopefully) and please excuse the rushing-ness of my story. R&R, thank you. If I get good feedback, I may continue the story.