LET'S SING IT AGAIN! That's right, people! It's Masquerade, all over again!
Chapter Fifteen: Masquerade
Ryou POV
A month or so passed. .Il Muto had played sometime in November. For a whole month, as Christmas approached, I no longer had heard from my Angel.
Although there was still that lingering link of his breath in my head, I could no longer hear him, no longer feel him. This, at times, made me absolutely miserable, absolutely lonely. Though, yet, the strange feeling of fear I had towards him…that strange feeling of fear and worry and uncertainty that I had for him…(could I trust him? He who murdered someone so mercilessly? My Angel?)…that empty, lonely part of my head was always quickly corrected. It was filled by Marik.
Every night, though, I remained praying, I remained…partially faithful. At times, without Marik, I was utterly torn between the two. Though my Angel killed, surely it was for divine reasons, wasn't it? Surely angels didn't kill without reason…without reasons and in cold blood? Surely there must've been a purpose to the boy's death…not just a heartless murder…angels wouldn't do that…
But then, my heart would sink, when I would realize that…my Angel…was no angel. He was the Phantom of my Sennen Ring, the evil King of Thieves…the poor, mistakened boy who lost his family at an early age, who was misunderstood when he was young…who fell in love and had his heart broken…
He was no Angel, that I knew. He was merely a boy…a real boy, a human boy who now was a hauntingly beautiful man. Regardless, in my heart he would always be an Angel to me…the angel that protected me, taught me, and nurtured me in my loneliness.
Bakura…what a lovely name it was…how it rolled off my tongue and sounded so crystal clear…like an iced gem. Bakura.
As a man, however, my Angel was a murderer. I could help not but acknowledge that. I had to. It would not be healthy to always ignore the truth of who he really was…
Every night, I would pray though…pray like he was a real human boy turned Angel. Somehow, he seemed more real that way, and in a positive light, it made me absolutely euphoric that he was real. In a negative light…it meant that I was in grave danger…even if I loved him.
I would never admit it to Marik, but my Angel held a very special place in my heart. In the long run, I knew I could never hate him for being murderous. All I was afraid of was his temper…his scarily dark temper that might blow every little minute. I was afraid that he would hurt me one day, drive himself insane…but no, I could never hate him.
I loved him.
If only I could just…talk with him…without fearing the wrath of God and his guardians…
During the time I was no longer possessed by my Angel, however, Marik and I became so much closer. People were really beginning to think of us like a couple. Ryou and Marik, Marik and Ryou…I would always blush with my name following his or leading his, like a prefix or a suffix…
Or a surname, as Marik once suggested. I had flushed embarrassedly but was touched by his suggestion.
Of course, that night when I went to bed, I realized my surname was already attached to something.
Ryou Bakura.
Bakura Ryou…
At any rate, Marik and I became extremely close. There was nothing I couldn't get him to do and nothing he couldn't get me to do. When there were things we didn't appreciate, we'd talk them out. We weren't afraid of expressing our emotions: me, because I couldn't hide them otherwise, no matter how polite I was, and Marik, because he was naturally blunt and didn't like fancying things up. Our relationship was quite healthy this way. We were not afraid of each other, and we had no secrets.
At least…I think we didn't…
Anyways, one time, Marik and I were sitting with Ayato at the school cafeteria for lunch. It was a quiet little corner, only for special students or special guests (Marik and I were both of the two), and a friend (Ayato, but of course.).It was decorated to look like an old-fashioned French parlor, complete with luxurious velvet armchairs and furnished with elegant, dark-wood coffee tables. The windows in this corner were absolutely exquisite…elegant and delicately framed, their curtains framing the sides with their smooth, satin texture, hugged by the golden cord…
I felt so excited when Marik had invited me to this corner. It was even a private corner, with French doors leading back to the cafeteria and to the outside garden. The cafeteria had four of these special corners. One had to get the teacher's approval before attending.
I was sitting in a plush armchair next to Marik, looking out the window, admiring the snow and the little flakes twinkling like diamonds as they floated to the ground. The hot chocolate was warm and sweet against my lips, filling me with a content, warm, and snuggly feeling inside. My mug was held by my left hand, fingers delicately posed, and my right held the saucer. Marik's cup of mocha's coffee was sitting on the table, in its round mug, on the saucer, half-finished.
Ayato was sitting across from us, downing his iced cappuccino like a thirsty boy on a hot summer's day. I had wanted Marik to meet Ayato, a great but distant friend of mine, as he did not hang out with our 'clique' of strangeness. I giggled at the thought of it. Honda, Jonouchi and Ayato would not make a great trio…well, not great for me and Yugi and Anzu, who had enough difficulty as it is subduing them from havoc…
A plate of sweets and custard sat on the coffee between us. I loved the chocolates here. Knowing this, Marik secretively winked at me, and picked on up, brushing it lightly against my lips. I giggled and licked at it, enjoying the delicious, rich taste.
Marik chuckled and slid the thing in my mouth, before giving me a light kiss on the lips, licking my own. I flushed, not used to his expression of love so publicly. Ayato smirked and pretended to blush.
"Oh Ryou!" he said, girlishly putting his hands on his cheeks to hide his 'blush'. "What a little romantic you are!"
I nearly choked on my chocolate when I realized Ayato was watching. Marik pulled back and laughed as Ayato cooed girlishly at me, waving his hands at the wrists and flicking his hair back. "Oh, Ryou, if you love the man that much you should go arrange a room…"
"That's not it," I hacked weakly. "Ayato, please!"
Ayato laughed and stopped teasing, and promptly crammed some food into his mouth. Marik chuckled and apologetically squeezed my hand. I squeezed back, indicating that I was alright and that he was forgiven.
"So, there's going to be a party," Ayato said, though his mouthful of food. "I hear it's a costume party."
"A costume party?" I repeated, looking away from Marik. "Why on earth a costume party? The school has never sponsored such a thing before."
"To make up for apparently, Il Muto's bad performance," Ayato explained, mumbling though another mouthful of food, "Kaiba-kun's set on making this year the 'Arts' year. Instead of doing a Christmas pageant, he's hosting a Masqu…Masku…mask-raid…"
"A Masquerade party?" I exclaimed. Ayato swallowed his mouthful and grinned at me.
"Yeah, that's the word! I keep on pronouncing it mask-and-raid…"
"You're a bit of a kleptomaniac, aren't you?" Marik smirked, his arms snaking around my waist. I giggled shyly and looked over my shoulder at Marik. His little smirk turned grin as we gave me a discrete wink.
Ayato's grin, if possible, grew wider. "I wish," he laughed. "Although that would be fun, coming in as a robber…no, I've got plans this year. And the best part is…" Without any warning whatsoever, Ayato sprung from his chair and grabbed my hand. With a flourish, he raised it into the air triumphantly along with his. "…RYOU-KUN WILL BE JOINING ME!"
"I will!" I stuttered, alarmed. "Joining you with what?"
Ayato flashed me is 100-watt 100 up-to-no-good-smile. "In my little fashion party of
course! You shall come dressed with me!"
"And exactly what will you be dressing up as?" Marik asked, calmly prying my hand away from Ayato's and laying it back on my lap. Ayato puffed up his chest in a very manly and proud manner.
"…I'M GOING TO BE A BRIDE!"
If Marik had not already taken my hand in his, my hand would've dropped like a rock onto the desk along with my jaw. Ayato flicked his red hair back, puffing out his chest with an even more manly air than before. I shook my head and stuttered,
"….a WHAT?"
"A BRIDE!" Ayato announced. "Well, maybe not a BRIDE bride, but a GIRL BRIDE!"
Marik and I blinked dumbly in unison.
"…I hate to break it to you, " Marik said slowly, eyeing Ayato's puffed-out chest, "but inflating your lungs isn't exactly going to help you sprout breasts, Ayato."
"I don't need to sprout breasts, silly," Ayato waved his hand at Marik. "I've got melons. They're the perfect size too…all round and supple and tend---"
"OKAY, that's enough, thank you," I said loudly, blushing furiously. "A-and, what do you mean, I'll be joining you?"
"But of course!" Ayato exclaimed, looking at me with his most shocked and outrageous expression. "My dear, sweet Ryou, you neglect to realize that you and I are all part in one great manifesto! The one soul mission!"
"And what is that?" I asked weakly.
Ayato grinned at me and struck a dramatic pose. "The mission of…"
He thrust his hand into the air. "MEN'S ROMANCE!"
Oh the joy of head-desking!
That, if anything, had probably been the most embarrassing lunch conversation I had ever had with anyone. My forehead was probably stark red from collapsing face-forward onto the coffee-table so much. After Marik and I had regained our motor control over our mouths, Ayato had proceeded to ask Marik to convince me to come dressed as a bride.
Oh, how wicked of Ayato! To use Marik against me!
Of course, I had to say yes, the way Marik was teasing me and flirting with me and pleading with me. Now, waiting for Marik to pick us up for the masquerade ball, I was nervously fidgeting with my dress.
It was evening now, a beautifully dusky evening. Winter was upon us. Oh, how I loved winter! The snowflakes and the white blanket that carpeted the night made everything ever so more romantic. I loved crunching my feet among the snow…making snow angels, catching snowflakes…as I fiddled with my skirt, I wondered if Marik ever saw snow before. He had always been in Egypt, so…
…Oh, how I loved snow. So white, so pure. So much like…
My heart sank a little sadly at the idea of my Angel at all. Snow…it was so pure, so white, just the same shade of my Angel's hair.
I caught sight of Marik downstairs waiting for me. With glee, I hurried down, and we hurried to the ball in the school's main foyer.
Music surrounded us as we entered the main foyer. Marik, oh, how handsomely was he dressed! He had come as a soldier, a wonderful French soldier, with a black suit and gold cord-buttons. One of his sleeves had been taken off and slung over his shoulder, and the shirt underneath was black. A sword hung from his hip.
"Is that real?" I gasped. Marik chuckled and patted it.
"Of course." Marik bent down to kiss me on the cheek. "And you, my beautiful bride? How are you?"
I giggled, flushing behind my white mask. Despite what Ayato said, I told him that I would NOT show up in a pink gown, under whatever circumstance! So, Ayato had settled for a pink gown and left earlier than me; I had chosen a white gown tinted with blue. It was terribly plain, as I didn't like standing out whatsoever. The puff sleeves hung off my shoulders, and my waist was narrowed down with a simple embroidery of blue ribbons and thread. The skirt of my gown was cut in the shape of an A, so it was not too puffy, not too grand. Once more, blue ribbons decorated the side trailing down from my waist to the bottom the skirt. A large, satin blue ribbon was pinned to the back of my waist, and in my gloved hands, I held a half-mask that covered my forehead down to my nose. It was decorated with blue and silver feathers, something that I as proud to say that I had made myself.
Marik reached out with his arm and bowed, like a perfect gentleman. I smiled fondly and accepted his hand.
At the doorway, I heard the orchestra begin another grand song. I squealed, remembering that I had taught this song to Malik so long ago, and how he looked puzzlingly sad.
I clutched Marik's hand excitedly. "Marik! It's Masquerade!"
I felt Marik nod, and watched as Yami and Seto Kaiba make their way in front of us. I raised my eyebrow and giggled lightly. Yami (when I told Yugi about my Angel, he had told me about the Pharaoh that lived in his Puzzle as well…now, we called him Yami…I could tell the difference only when Yami talked or when his eyes were especially narrowed… as they were now.) was dressed as an Egyptian pharaoh, with the Sennen Puzzle and all, and Kaiba-kun was dressed as a great sea-god…around his ears was turquoise fins and his mask was blue and green, strung with imitation seaweed and dotted with pearl beads.
I giggled again. The way those two were entering, one would think that they were a couple of sorts!
Kaiba-kun looked proudly through the door. "Dear Yugi, what a splendid party! We're off to a brand new year!"
"What a night!" Yami agreed. "I'm impressed!"
"Well one does one's best," Kaiba boasted.
Yami raised his hand. "Here's to us!"
"I must say for all the city that it's a pity that the Phantom fellow can't be here!"
They entered, and as we were just behind them, Marik and I entered too. I gasped.
Dancers…so many dancers and so many people! Two golden staircases trailed from each side of the room. Dancers of many shades, all wearing masks, twirled and flipped and danced in unison to the music. The orchestra was sitting in the middle, dutifully conducted.
I caught sight of Anzu in the main row of the dancers. I grinned happily for her. I knew of her dream to become a dancer…what a night for her to dress up as such a lovely sprite and to wear that black and white mask with every other talented dancer on those stairs!
I heard the crescendo. I sang along too!
Masquerade! Paper faces on parade!
Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you!
I squealed and grabbed Marik's hand. He laughed his rare laugh and took my hands, before pressing me close to him, one hand resting on my waist. He took the first step; I stepped back, and we continued this way, this dance.
Masquerade! Every face a different shade!
Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!
I sang as I danced with Marik, him twirling me about. His eyes twinkled at me, and he began to sing with me too. As he swirled me about, I caught sight of the people on the main staircase; how Anzu was dancing in her white-blue feathery skirt, her brown hair stranded with lapis leaves and her black and white mask on her face.
Flash of mauve, splash of puce!
Fool and king, ghoul and goose!
Green and black, queen and priest!
Face a rogue, face a beast!
She was truly a talented dancer. How she flipped her hands and arched her torso left and right and center, her flexible legs sweeping in tune to the song…I gave her a grin and she nodded to me, as I could not see her smile behind the mask. She truly deserved to go to New York and dance, as she's always dreamed.
Faces!
Take a turn, take a ride!
On a merry-go-round
In an inhuman race!
More dancers tapped around us; many of them wore the same masks, and many of them also held great big gold fans. They flicked them and flashed them as they turned their heads in tune to the music. I felt Marik hold me closer and spin me faster. I squealed and hung to him, my arms wrapped around his neck.
Eye of gold, true is false!
Who is who?
Curl of lip, swirl of gown!
Ace of hearts, face a clown!
I saw Jonouchi as he came tumbling down the steps of the stairway, wearing a ruffled collar and a pointed hat. His whole outfit was baggy and spotted with black dots; on his nose was a red ball.
Honda came after him, dressed as a gangster. "Hey man!" he yelled. "You should've totally come as a mutt. Although, the clown does fit you…"
"Ah, shaddup!" Jonouchi grinned, hitting the friend over in the head. I giggled and swirled away, watching as they disappeared into the crowds.
What a night!
Faces!
Drink it in, drink it up
Till you've drowned in the light,
In the sound
But who can name the face?
I saw Ayato at the top of the left staircase. He was flipping up his pink skirt, horribly frilly and his mask was a glaringly bright, neon pink angular sunglasses looking as if they had come from the fifties. He had decorated his red hair with a large, Mary-Antoinette red wig, piled high on his head, and strung with flowers and …I snickered…little milk cartons.
He waved at me, as I was the only other boy possibly wearing a WEDDING GOWN. "Ryou darling!"
"Oh gods," I mumbled, flushing and laughing. "Marik, bring me away before I see something I don't want to!"
Marik laughed again and directed me away, telling Ayato, "Maybe later!" as Ayato swirled around and flipped up his skirt again, revealing, (what Marik told me), pink lace and pantyhose. I did NOT need to hear that!
Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds!
Masquerade! Take your fill of the spectacle around you!
Marik and I danced into a corner, and grinned as we watched more people come down the steps. Anzu was once again, dancing, except this time, Ayato had intercepted, and was dancing with her in front of everyone. Thankfully Anzu and Ayato were good friends and had quick heads; both Anzu and Ayato could improvise very quickly and very well!
Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads!
Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!
The music changed slightly, more delicate. Everyone suddenly changed moves and began to tiptoe to the music, like ballerinas. I laughed in fun and joy as Marik picked me up and let me rise myself on my toes…I had never been a good ballet dancer and too many a times I had stumbled on Marik when our Father was teaching us how to dance different dances.
Masquerade! Seething shadows, breathing lies!
Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you!
The music regained back it's crescendo and impressive burst. I looked back at Marik and smiled fondly.
Well, at least both Marik and I knew how to ballroom dance…the most romantic dance of them all…
Masquerade! Leering satyrs, peering eyes!
Masquerade! Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you!
I watched again as Mai and Rex (since Mano was gone, Rex replaced him) came down the steps. They looked so funny together; I had to laugh. Mai being so tall and bearing so much of her breasts (here I blushed) and Rex barely up to her shoulder, in fact, just past her elbow, and holding her like how Marik was holding me. He was dressed in a little tuxedo, but by his size, he looked no more impressive than…than an adorable waiter!
I giggled and shook my head. How could I be thinking such thoughts?
Oh well. It was a nigh for everyone to laugh, for everyone to have fun. Be someone they were not or truly are, and be laughed at, without any sense of bitterness or mockery. It was a fun night; everyone laughed at everyone without the hurt or fear. It was pure. It was …carefree joy!
"What a night!"
"What a crowd!"
"Makes you glad!"
"Makes you proud!"
"All the crème de la crème…"
"Watching us and watching them…"
Madame Giry came too, and her fan was possibly the biggest one I had ever seen. Isis and Shadi came up behind her, both of them looking so distant. Isis had (appropriately) dressed up as a gypsy fortune teller, her long black hair bundled up in an elegant turban that was the same color of her eyes. A red feather protruded from the scarab beetle on her turban.
I looked at Marik, and he groaned at me. I giggled. In my opinion, Isis was very beautiful as a gypsy fortune teller!
All our fears are in the past
Three years of relief
Of delight!
Shadi, strangely enough, and came as an Egyptian priest. He had taken off his turban, and I was surprised to see that he was bald underneath all that! He had painted some strange lines on the top of his shiny head, and his shoulders were decorated in big gold amour.
All in all, Shadi looked intimidatingly impressive.
And may the splendor never fade!
What a blessed release!
Madame Giry came up, and waved her fan.
And what a masquerade!
While this was all happening, Marik had taken me away to a private corner. In the privacy of this corner, he surprised me with a…a ring…?
"Ryou," Marik whispered. "Will you marry me?"
I was so shocked, so surprised that Marik would ever even think of marrying me. But the diamond ring in his hand said it all…he loved me! But did I want to marry him? Of course! He was my childhood friend, my protector, my friend, my brother, my everything! Could I ever live without seeing those amethyst eyes, without smelling his sandy, desert smell?
No, I couldn't. I loved Marik! I always had, my childhood best friend!
But some rational part of my head whispered at me. We had to keep it a secret…
I took the ring, and hooked it onto a thin chain that hung from my neck. Smiling at him dreamily, I took his hand.
"Think of it!" I sang. "A secret engagement. Look! Your future bride…Just think of it!"
"But why is it secret?" Marik sang back. "What have we to hide?"
I was quick to stop him, the logical part of my head immediately noting that we could not tell anyone of this engagement. It was too dangerous.
"No, Marik, please don't!"
"Well then let them see," Marik sang. "It's an engagement, not a crime!" He paused, and gently took my face in his chin. "Ryou, what are you afraid of…?"
I smiled sadly and shook my head, remembering my Angel's proposal to me. I couldn't accept…I really couldn't. "Let's not argue…"
"Let's not argue," he agreed. But I pressed.
"Please pretend…"
"I can only hope…"
"Only hope that you will understand in time!" we both sang together.
We re-entered the ballroom, and this time, I felt no more guilt about our engagement. We had told no one, no one would know, no one could harm us. My Angel was gone, and as much as I loved him, if he was gone, there was no way I could tell him that if we had some time alone…that I could possibly marry him.
Marik had come first. He had proven to me that I could rely on him, no matter what. How was I to deny that?
We paused once more…and he bent down to kiss me. I closed my eyes and accepted…
Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade!
Masquerade!
Hide your face so the world will never find you!
We broke the kiss, and stopped dancing…just watching the people dance around us, admiring the wonderful display. It truly was beautiful.
Masquerade! Every face a different shade!
Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!
Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads!
Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!
I smiled as Ayato swept Anzu off her feet and gave her a kiss. How ridiculous to see a bride kissing a sprite! When I turned, however, Marik dipped me the same way, and kissed me again.
Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds!
Masquerade!
Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you!
Suddenly though, the happy music ended ominously. Everyone nearest to the right staircase began to scream. As they cleared away, I saw a man…a handsomely beautiful man standing at the doorway…I gasped.
No….how could it be? Just as…just as I thought he had left me forever…!
I could feel my doom impending on me. I nearly fainted right then and there, in Marik's arms.
My Angel…of all the places…he had returned!
Marik POV
My eyes lingered warily at the door. Ryou had stiffened next to me. I could smell his fear building up and radiating in droves. His grip on my hand clenched so tightly that I could slowly feel my fingers tingling from numbness.
The room darkened. Everyone stilled.
There. On top of the staircase. A boy with long, silver hair, nearly white… dressed in red…his face…
…covered in a black mask…
Without a doubt, I instantly knew I met my match. This was him. Ryou's dark angel.
The Phantom of the Sennen Ring.
Malik POV
There he was…Bakura! Was it him? Was it truly him?
He had changed so much…no longer was his skin the familiar bronze color that I had donned…no longer was his hair short and croppy and rough to the touch. They were long, silky smooth and almost luminescent in the dim candle-light.
Marik, I hissed at my yami, who had blocked me and suppressed me since our initiation. Marik, dammit, let me out.
I've kept you in there long enough, Marik snapped back at me. You are not running this for me, do you understand?
I cursed in my native Egyptian and beat hard against the clear soul-hourglass that Marik had confined me in. Ever since I was too weak to suffer the initiation alone, with or without Ryou's help, Marik had locked me away here, in a cage, a clear hourglass in the recess of the Shadows.
Marik was nice enough sometimes to let me out, but I knew he liked the control he had over my body. Especially if it meant being by Ryou's side.
Marik, you stupid, thick-headed pig! I yelled at him. Marik, let me out, damn it!
You yelling in my head is not helping whatsoever! Marik snarled back at me. Quiet!
It's. BAKURA. I yelled in frustration. Let me out! I have to talk to him!
No.
I cursed at Marik loudly for his stubbornness, and returned to watching Bakura from his eyes. Bakura…
My heart began to weigh down sadly in my chest. Bakura…how much have you changed? No longer was he the strong, handsome man that I had admired and loved and adored…the way he carried himself now, so slender, so elegantly, so smoothly…it was like as if he wasn't even real.
Like a fragment of my dreams…
I watched him, taking one step at a time, down the staircase. He was dressed all in red, a beautiful, deep crimson red suit. White silk ruffled around his neck and tight, silver pants ending in sleek black boots…from his shoulders, a red and black cape flew behind him as he took each step down the stairs. His long silver hair was enchantingly flying in the still air, giving him the mysterious impression of a ghost. The Sennen Ring hung from his neck.
And on his face…I nearly cried when I saw his face.
A black mask…a beautiful, full black mask that was dotted in diamonds around his eyes, and bordered with phoenix feathers…
I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and my heart ache. It was the very same mask Rishid and I made for Bakura at our last masquerade ball.
His eyes seemed to fall at me at some point, and I could see his bitter, hateful smirk that glowed from beneath that mask. He was mocking me, and he was enjoying it!
He turned away, and looked at everyone, a black folder in his gloved hands, and a skull-headed cane in the other.
One step. Another step. Another. And another.
"Why so silent, good monsieurs?" he smirked. I gasped. His voice…it was softer and more beautiful than I last remembered. "Did you think that I had left you for good…?"
Each of his words was punctuated with another step. Everyone was silent.
"Have you missed me, good monsieurs?" he sang, mockingly, "I have written you an opera!" He held up the black book proudly.
"Here I bring the finished score…" Suddenly, he grandly threw the book down at our feet. The score few out and scattered on the floor. "DON JUAN TRIUMPHANT!"
He had reached the bottom of the stairs now. His gloved fingers let the cane dance lightly between his hands. As he passed by the Pharaoh and Seto, he tapped Seto lightly on the chest with the cane.
"I advise you to comply, my instructions should be clear…" His voice was so soft, but lined so cruelly with mockery. "Remember there are worse things than a shattered chandelier!"
His eyes glimmered at me when he sang this. I swallowed hard. The dancing boy that was murdered…when he was hung, the pharaoh's chandelier had dropped.
His eyes narrowed at me, and he began to stalk towards us. I felt myself stiffen and swallow, as this was the first time I had been so close to him again. He raked his eyes carefully over Marik's form, before his eyes glinted in utter contempt. Slowly, they went from Marik's eyes to the boy next to us…Ryou, Ryou, my dear, childhood friend…
I felt a twinge of jealousy rush through me. Bakura!
At Ryou's face, Bakura's eyes (could it be!) softened very slightly. Slowly, he stepped closer to Ryou, lowering his head so romantically and so gentlemanly to Ryou. Just as their foreheads were about to touch, Bakura slowly slid out his hand, and gently fondled the ring that hung from Ryou's neck.
I felt myself bristling. Damn it, Bakura, how dare you mock our relationship this way! Three thousand years ago, that was MY ring hanging from MY neck!
Ryou stiffened, and tears began to well up in his eyes. I scowled. Baby.
He slowly raised his hand, and slowly reached out to Bakura's face. Bakura nearly closed his eyes, nearly allowed Ryou to touch his face…so hesitantly, as if Ryou was unsure if Bakura was real at all…
Suddenly, Bakura's eyes lost any of the tenderness they had possibly ever gained. With an expression of pure spite and disgust, he slapped away Ryou's hand and ripped the ring from Ryou's neck.
"Your chains are still mine! YOU BELONG TO ME!"
I felt Marik lose all control by now. Before I could protest, Marik had launched himself at Bakura, swept out his sword, and aimed it straight at Bakura's heart.
But Bakura proved to be a much better thief, even though 3,000 years had passed. He swiftly ducked backwards under Marik's sword, and before any of us could so anything, the floor beneath us flipped open, and Marik, Bakura and I, fell into a deep, dark pit of hatred.
Darkness flashed past us as the wind whistled in our ears. Marik still had his calm and was looking instantly for a way out. When he saw the floor beneath us, he swiftly bent his knees and allowed us to land fine. When we looked around us, however, that's when we began to panic.
Or at least, I did.
Surrounding us, entirely surrounding us, were mirrors. Flipping mirrors, rotating mirrors, mirrors at every angle and showed us looking to and fro for a way out. Yes, I began to panic. Marik, however, stayed cool, and watched carefully as each mirror spun and flipped and twisted and slid.
Oh Ra, oh Ra, oh Ra, I began to blubber. Oh Ra…
Quit your incessant whimpering, Light! Marik snapped at me. He's here…
I looked up, and nearly cried again when I saw Bakura's face, cold and set in stone, staring at us from each mirror. I closed my hands over my ears and gripped my hair tightly. This distorted house of mirrors…I remembered this…!
"Bakura, why won't you just look in the mirror?"
"I've always been taught not to."
"But why? Your face isn't ugly…it's…"
"That's not the point. Mirrors…mirrors can drive one into madness, Malik. One can't bear seeing his own face reflection thousand-folds and remain sane. It's human nature to question oneself after seeing themselves too many times."
"You remembered," Bakura's lips mouthed at us from the mirrors. I gave a heart-broken sob and looked up.
"Of course I remembered," I whispered. "How could I not?"
Marik seethed and randomly brought his sword out at a mirror. It cracked over Bakura's face, but Bakura remained motionless, not even once blinking or even flinching. Marik cursed again and turned to stab at another mirror, but to no avail. I remembered this torture chamber. I knew it well.
Marik! I yelled. Marik, stop, if you keep doing this, you'll go insane!
Oh, as if I'm not already, Marik said sarcastically back at me. I bristled angrily and began to ram the Shadow-prison with my shoulder.
Damn it, Marik, LET ME OUT. YOU DON'T KNOW BAKURA LIKE I DO!
LEAVE US ALONE! HE HURT RYOU, AND HE IS GOING TO PAY!
I screamed my frustration and pummeled at my prison. BAKURA! PLEASE, LET ME TALK TO BAKURA!
Suddenly, Marik froze, and something gold shined brightly at us from the mirrors. The intensity of it all forced Marik away in my body and back in the recess of my mind. Taking this chance, I quickly grabbed the Rod from his belt, and forced my way through the prison and into my body.
Shit, Marik cursed at me. I grinned as I passed his sprit form.
I'll give it back to you later, I said. I have no use for my own body if Bakura is not there.
With that said, I quickly gained control over my own body. For so many years, Marik had taken control, only letting me use my body once per day. The long hair that shot up to the skies fell and flopped in front of my face. I pouted and blew the bangs away and quickly brushed my hair to place. Stupid Marik…had he ever heard of a comb before?
"Still the same, I see," a familiar, cold voice floated at us. I quickly brushed away my hair and looked up to see Bakura standing in front of me. This time, it was no reflection, and the Sennen Ring was softly glowing on his chest. I smiled weakly.
"You helped me put Marik away," I said softly.
"Temporarily," Bakura said shortly, his red eyes glaring at me coldly. "What do you want?"
I bit my lip and tried to find an explanation. "You…you want to talk to me?"
Bakura said nothing, and continued staring at me through the holes of his black mask. Suddenly, his lips curled back, and he hissed venomously at me.
"You betrayed me."
"No, no!" I quickly said. "No, Bakura, please listen!"
"You Ishtals are all the same, three thousand years or not!" Bakura spat at me. "When will you finally stop interfering with my blasted life and destroying my dreams?"
I was quiet for a moment, shocked that he considered our life together as 'destroying his dreams'. I felt my heart weigh down and lurch at the same time.
"Bakura," I breathed, hurt. "…Is that…is that really what you thought us…together…was? Just…a way to destroy your dreams?"
Bakura's lips curled into such a disgusted sneer that I was once again startled. I had never been one to be inflicted by his upturned nose or his coldness…I had been his friend, his savior, his…his lover!
"You destroyed my world when I discovered Rishid instead of you that night," Bakura hissed. He flexed his fingers around the handle of this sword. "You ought to be pleased that I hadn't killed him yet…"
"Don't you dare hurt him!" I cried out. "Bakura, you have to stop this! You have to stop this madness!"
"What madness?" Bakura spat at me. "This is no madness! This is…" He raised his hands to the ceiling, in some sort of marvelous and grand gesture. "…Don Juan Triumphant!"
He turned to glare at me once more, gloved hand still in the air. "Do you recall who called me Don Juan when we were together, Malik?" Bakura breathed. "…Do you?"
I felt my heart sink again. I shamefully lowered my eyes to his feet.
"I did."
Bakura nodded. "Correct. You see, Malik…" Bakura began to walk towards me, his struts so much more graceful than before…so much softer, more…deceivingly gentle.
He came to a stop just short in front of me. I felt tears prickle in my eyes: angry and sad.
"You see, Malik…" Bakura whispered. "Ryou doesn't call me such degrading names. You see, he has thought of me as someone much more worthwhile than just a simple seduction archetype. I am…" Here, Bakura raised my chin with his fingers. I glared at him, angry that he even dare bring up Ryou after all we had been through.
Bakura smirked. "To him, Malik," Bakura breathed, "I am his angel. Was I ever that to you? Hmn? An angel?"
I wrenched my face away from his grip. "You're too dark to be an angel!" I yelled at him. "How dare you do this to me? To mock our relationship with Ryou? You and your precious Ryou? "
"How dare you raise your voice at me, prince?" Bakura retorted back. "You dare to ask us how I mock our relationship this way…how I tease it and cruelly twist it in such a way that's not true? Because it was NOT. It was NOT true!"
"How dare you say that!" I yelled at him. "It was true! It was true to me! I thought THAT-" I pointed at the ring in his pocket- "THAT was MY ring before! I thought THAT meant something to us!"
"It DID!" Bakura yelled at me. "But it obviously wasn't important enough for you to keep, was it? Rishid gave it to me after you left me! And you…you still dare to come between the only dream I have now? The only chance I have with someone who might actually …" Here, Bakura abruptly stopped. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed at me, and he seethed, fang bared and red eyes glowing fiery. "…You…" he whispered at me. "You…it's just like you to stop me between anything I wish to do. But hear me say this now…"
Bakura took another step towards me, his face nearly an inch from mine. I seethed and took a step back. This was…this was so unlike the Bakura I knew before…and yet…so very much the same…
"I will not stop, Malik," Bakura hissed, "I will not stop tormenting and humiliating our once relationship as you have humiliated me. If you watch Don Juan, you will understand. And furthermore…"
Suddenly, Bakura's hand shot out, and he grabbed the collar of the French military outfit that Marik (now I) had donned. His strength still immensely impressive, Bakura hoisted me off my feet without so much as a flinch, until my feet dangled about a few inches above the ground.
I gagged and winced, clutching at his wrist. His eyes did not leave mine, merely boring into mine coldly, mercilessly.
"…Tell Marik to stop trying with Ryou," Bakura whispered. "Should he come one more step near a kilometer of Ryou once more, know this…" Bakura threw me away from him. "…That I will show you no mercy. Once my lover or not, Malik, I care for you no more."
With that said, Bakura swiftly turned away from me, and headed to the wall of mirrors. Pausing, he turned back to face me once more, his dark red cloak shielding his whole body, and his long silver hair floating eerily enchantingly above his shoulders.
"Even if I do kill you, Malik," Bakura called, "I'd have no regrets." He tapped his mask and for once, I saw him smirk. "Au revior."
Before I could do anything, there was a great puff of white smoke, engulfing Bakura's whole shadow. Bitter smoke surged up my nose and down my throat, forcing me to cough and hack and get to my knees. When the smoke cleared, Bakura was gone, and the room was empty.
A hand quickly came out of nowhere, and grabbed my wrist. I turned around, ready to strike, only to see…
My eyes widened. "Isis?"
She put a finger to her lips and quickly pulled me to her. "This way," she whispered. "This way."
We made our way through the basement and the corridors, winding through the undergrounds of the opera house and boarding school. I looked around in awe. For so long, I had been a prisoner in my own body, that for once, when I was finally in control, I couldn't help but cherish it.
I touched engravings on the walls, cloth tapestries as they hung from the ceiling. The entire underground was strangely enthralling…the work of a true architect, I had to admit.
Stupid Light, Marik snorted at me. I rolled my eyes.
Please? Just this moment with my sister? I pleaded. I've never asked for anything more.
Marik, as cold as he could be sometimes, was actually decently civil to me. He allowed me to regain control of my body, and allowed me to see my sister. I gave him a soul-hug of thanks (he stiffened and didn't hug me back; rather, he pushed me away and shoved me back in my body.)
Using your body is like driving a car, Marik snapped. Keep your eyes on the road.
I snickered and returned back to my body. I finally squeezed Isis's hand.
"Isis," I said, very relieved. "What…what are you doing here?"
"I'm just a messenger," my sister said shortly. I huffed and gripped her hand.
"You're not just any messenger," I protested. "You're the Pharaoh's…"
"No," Isis said brusquely. "No, I'm not. I'm Fate's messenger…which includes the Pharaoh, and Bakura."
I frowned. "How did you know I was here? Where are we going?"
"I'm a messenger," my sister said again. She led us through the hallways and the doors, and quickly pushed one at the farthest corner away from us. "Quickly. In here."
As I stumbled through the darkness of the doorway, I heard Isis follow me and quickly click the door shut. After hearing the snap of the lock, I felt my sister take my hand again and lead me to what felt like a chair. A flicker of light illuminated the room as my sister was quick to light a candle, and softly set it on a wooden table next to the desk.
I slowly sat myself down on the soft cushion of the French chair. "You know, I would've thought you'd say something about missing me…"
Isis looked at me sharply, before seating herself quietly on the seat in front of me. "Of course I missed you," Isis said softly. "How could I not miss my own brother?"
I felt guilty for not trying to regain control of my body after my initiation. I reached over and petted her hand.
"Well, I'm not back for long," I admitted. "But I've got some of my anger down, so….I'm better now."
"Marik won't be too happy to hear that," Isis said. I shrugged.
"We'll come to an agreement of sorts…" I patted the Rod. "Usually I got the night, he got the day. On days when there weren't a lot of people I could go out in the sunlight…but…" I shrugged again. "I got to see everything anyway….and I got to make my own set of friends at night…I don't know, Marik actually lets me out a lot, we kinda subconsciously switch every some…day…"
"Malik," Isis said warningly. "You're rambling, little brother."
"Ah." I blushed and sheepishly scratched my head. "Sorry."
Isis sighed, shoulders hunching over. Her eyes suddenly filled with such sadness and remorse, I couldn't help but fall back into seriousness again.
"Isis," I said firmly, "you have to tell me what happened to Bakura after I left. He wouldn't listen to me."
Isis sighed, and shook her head. "I know no more than you, Malik."
"That's not true!" I insisted. "You fought him! There must have been a reason why he hates me now. Please…Isis, tell me."
Slowly, Isis turned to look at me, her blue eyes shining distantly. "…You honestly don't know what happened to him?"
"No," I said. "Isis…please…tell me."
With another sigh, Isis straightened her back, and turned her face away from me. When she spoke, her voice was very distant, and very soft. It was as if she was recalling something she didn't wish to.
"When you…left for your initiation," Isis began quietly, "Bakura…he didn't know. Nobody knew…except me and Rishid. And even after you went for your initiation…even after that…we did not know what happened…"
"What did happen?" I asked. "Why was I taken away in the first place?"
Isis sighed and rubbed her fingers against one another in her lap. "…Father knew…" she said softly. "He knew about…your relationship with Bakura…a long time before he died. He…didn't want you to get distracted…so without you knowing, he arranged for you to be taken away when the switch was made. Rishid…Rishid and I tried our best to talk him out of it…but he wouldn't…" Isis sighed again. "…Rishid nearly died that night trying to allow you and Bakura to go home free…neither you nor Bakura ever saw his scars of that beating…"
I suddenly felt sick, my whole body slowing down. I slowly slumped into my seat.
"Father…Father knew?" I echoed.
Isis nodded. "I never told Bakura that it was your father who sabotaged the plan," Isis said. "I never had the chance. When he was captured, under our father's orders, he was kept in a cell far away from the palace…I never knew where it was, or what had happened to him…if I did, I would've visited…"
"A cell…far away," I repeated in dead horror. "Isis….you know what they do to prisoners far away from the palace…where no one checks on them. A sentence there…it means so many years of…"
Isis lowered her eyes and nodded sadly. "Yes," she whispered. "I believe Bakura was tortured very badly for many years…but there was nothing I could do."
I slowly sank against my seat again, my breath suddenly feeling very weak and limp in the air. Bakura…oh, my sweet Baku…how they must've tormented him because of his face…I lowered my head and buried my face into my hand. Baku…my sweet Baku…
I bit my lip, looking away in mourning, my hand now sliding to my mouth as I shook my head. No…this couldn't have been true…
"It gets worse," Isis whispered apologetically.
My head shot up. "How could it get worse?"
Isis lowered her head again. "…I didn't know where he was," she explained again, "but…after I heard of his execution…people wanted his execution public, I imagine…I found out where he was kept. I sent Masquerade…that wonderful score he wrote, did you know?...to him. But...when I went to the temporary cell where they kept him…they were going to execute him publicly near the Nile…he didn't see me, but I saw the guards rip up the score…" Isis closed her eyes. "…It disgusted me," she told me. "I immediately had those guards removed and went to see Bakura…but when I got to the cell, he was no longer there…he had slipped away.
"When I returned to the palace, disheartened that I'd never see him again…the guards told me he had been caught again, and they were going to move up his execution date to the near future. He must've broken out that day. Because the next time I saw him…"
"You saw him again?" I shot up, clenching my fists with worry. "You saw him again?"
Isis raised her head. Her eyes, however, did not show any happiness, nor any relief that she had seen him. "Malik," she whispered, "the next time I met him, he wasn't your servant anymore. Do you know what they called him?"
I shook my head.
"Malik," Isis sighed. "They called him the King of Thieves. He was no longer our sweet little musician or our wondrous performer. When he came back, I hardly recognized him…I had never seen his face naked before…"
My eyes widened. "He wasn't wearing the mask?" I exclaimed, jumping out of my seat. "Why?"
Isis looked at me with an unreadable gaze. "That…I'm afraid I can't tell you," Isis said, straightening up and looking away. "His scar is the business between the Pharaoh and those who wield Shadow magic."
I huffed and jabbed the head of the Rod at her. "Sister," I said, "what does this look like to you?"
Isis rolled her eyes and pushed the head away. "That's not my point," Isis said. "His scar is only between the Pharoah, himself, and us priests. Those destined to duel once more in the Shadow games, which YOU…" She stood, and poked me in the chest in a very sisterly way, "…are not part of."
I scowled and pushed her finger away, slowly returning to my seat. In turn, Isis also slowly sat down, and I looked at her darkly. She turned to me and ignored my grumpy, childish mood.
"Why weren't you there?" Isis whispered. "Why didn't you find him again? He was so upset…he hated you for not finding him…"
I gawked at Isis. "Isis," I said, "you can hardly blame me."
Isis looked at me strangely. "What do you mean?"
"Isis," I said weakly. "I was dead."
Woooh, I thought that this was going to be a short chapter, but twenty two pages…man, this thing is long. Thankfully, the rest of Malik's story will be continued in the next chapter.
Btw, an important note. For those especially touched that Bakura and Mailk shared "this song", did you guys feel a little bit disgusted or sick or offended that Marik and Ryou were using it for "their song" as well? I mean, the last Masquerade song felt just so much more special when I wrote it…when I wrote this one, I wanted to demonstrate that sort of mockery Malik kept on feeling…that Marik and Ryou would dare destroy Bakura's heart and yet, still use his song to portray their love. Did you guys feel that at all?
Man, I love writing Thief Bakura / Malik masquerade way better than I liked writing Marik/ Ryou masquerade. Writing TKB/Malik was just so much more…romantic..and sweet! This was…I was like, "Man, what am I making them into? I know Ryou doesn't know that this was Bakura's song, but still…Marik you jerk, you should know!"
The rest of Marik's and Malik's story can be revealed next chapter, but you guys can kinda guess already. I left a couple of clues. And for those who aren't sure how the story will end…it's really based off Phantom of the Opera, with some slight Yu-GI-Oh adjustments (like Malik and Bakura…Malik was sort of Nadir ….for those who have read Phantom). So you guys kinda can guess already how this will turn out…I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!