Chapter 4-Scars

From the corner of her eye Ishizu watched her brother staring aimlessly out the airplane window. He looked more stressed than she'd seen him in a long time, but of course this was because of the dream. She wondered sadly what kind of terrors Malik went through while he slept.

"Brother?"

The violet-eyed boy turned to his sister. "What is it?"

"Does the Pharaoh truly believe that your yami has returned?"

Malik felt a lump forming in his throat as he saw the worry lurking beneath Ishizu's gaze. He never should have contacted Yami. Now everyone was bending backwards over a simple nightmare! Still, he remembered the concern in the darkness's voice. Something strange was happening in Domino. He could feel it. "H-he didn't actuallysay that. I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have said anything at all!"

Ishizu sighed. "Malik, if the Pharaoh believes something is wrong we ought to trust him. I'm positive Atemu and his companions can take care of anything that comes their way.

The plane flew onward towards Japan, a great, metal kite skipping across the sky. For a moment Malik wished he too could fly off through that sea of clouds. How much easier it would be to live in the air, just like a bird...or perhaps one of the gods. Then his thoughts returned to earth, and the boy once more thought of his friends, siblings, and though he tried not to, Mariku. He wondered if the Darkness really was in pain or if it was all a trick being used to manipulate him. 'Manipulated? By who? It was just a dream.' Anyway, it didn't matter. Malik didn't care what happened to his yami either way. After all, the only reason he'd agreed to come to Japan was to put everyone's minds at ease, right?

Ishizu had already said she held complete confidence in Yami's abilities, but Malik wasn't so sure. No one was infallible.

Ryou sprang dutifully to Bakura's side as he continued to thrash about in his sleep. For the past several hours the Thief had been restless, mumbling in broken sentences and picking at his dressings. He'dgone into a cold sweat, and no matter how many blankets the Brit piled on top of him, Bakura continued to shiver. "Sh...shhh..." Ryou was beginning to panic. The other boy was inconsolable. He'd sent for Doctor Katsume, but she had yet to arrive, and his ramblings were getting steadily worse.

"...Mar...not going to...prom...promises..." Bakura let out a soft 'hmph' before rolling onto his stomach and promptly screamed as his injured chest pressed against the sheets. Flinching at the noise, his hikari reached for his shoulders, trying to flip him back around.

"STOP IT!" Ryou straddled the tombrobber's waist, using his frail arms to pin him down by the shoulders. Bakura continued to thrash and mutter, though his eyes remained closed.

"...nghh...so sorry...I promised...it...hurts..."

"Wh-who are you talking to?" Ryou tried to steady his voice. Maybe if he spoke calmly Bakura too would settle down. "It's okay. The doctor will be here soon. She'll help you...I promise."

The Thief went ballistic. His eyes snapped open, and he gave a startled shriek. Gaze bright as fire, the yami shoved his light away and sat bolt upright in bed.

"MARIKU!"

Ryou gave a startled gasp. What did Malik's yami have to do with all of this? "Kura what's goin-"

The boy was cut off by the sharp buzz of the doorbell. With a worried glance towards his yami, Ryou sprinted downstairs to great the doctor. Bakura moaned softly to himself as his sank back into the bed. It didn't matter that he and Mariku had once been enemies. It didn't even matter that the Thief Kingwas supposed to care for no one at all. All the spirit seemed to hear was that smooth, compelling voice. All he saw when he slept were those amethyst eyes, wretchedly dark but tinged with something that might have been deeper. Drifting once more upon a turbulant sea of memories, Bakura knew this was one promise he had to keep.

The first thing he noticed when he awoke was that he was no longer sealed inside the Ring, but he wasn't in the realm of light either. Bakura gazed at his surroundings. He was in a small cell, complete with heavy oak door and roughly hewn walls. A less experienced soul may have thought they'd made it back to the mortal world, but the tombrobber knew better. Through the uneven chinks in the stone nothing but darkness shone through, and when he looked up the walls spiraled upward forever into an endless void. Most unnerving of all however was the fact that, though no source of light was visible in the room, everything could be seen with startling clarity. This room had been hewn from shadows not stone and wood. Still Bakura had to admit, whoever had created it knew a great deal about the Shadow Realm's magic. The place even felt familiar in an abstract sort of way.

The Thief rose to his feet and went over to examine the door. He may have been in the Shadow Realm, but that didn't mean things weren't still solid. Running his hands over the splintering oak and rusted iron he wondered who was keeping him here. Not that Bakura was worried. Far from it. He was simply curious in knowing who it was that had freed him from the Ring.

"I'm afraid you'll find that door to be locked."

The spirit barely managed to supress a startled gasp. Instead he whirled around, peering into the darkened corners in search of the source of this voice.

"Something wrong?" The shadows seemed to part, and a figure glided forward. He was tall, well over six feet, and clad in a black, gold-trimmed robe that hooded his eyes from Bakura's view. "It has been too long my friend."

"Who the hell are you?"

The man's lips broke into a smile that resembled a gash splitting across his face. Slowly he lowered his hood, revealing ghostlike skin and hair of dirty auburn. Eyes of startling crimson dug deep into those of the Thief's. Bakura felt his insides go very cold. This was impossible! Zork had been delt with in Memory World! How could he have returned, and how could he have come back looking almost human?

"I certainly hoped you would remember me. After all, this is where we first met."

Bakura let out a low hiss. That was why this place seemed familiar to him! He had been here before. No, that couldn't be! This was one of the Shadow Realm's illusions. It wasn't even real. "You may be having fun with your little game, but whoever you are know this! I have the power to destroy this little fantasy and you along with it! Stop this charade while you have the chance!"

The red-eyed figure cocked his head and smirked. "You're power means nothing!" Before the tombrobber could react the Zork-shade struck out, pulling him into a vice-like grip. Bakura screamed as a sudden hot pain wracked his body. It tore through the spirit like a plague. His mind shrieked. The blood in his veins was sizzling. For the first time in centuries the white-haired darkness closed his eyes and prayed, prayed for the agony to end, for a small bit of light to comfort him if only for a moment.

A strange image floated upon Bakura's consciousness. A child, no older than twelve, being thrown forcefully into a little cell. He'd done something wrong, stolen something, and so he must be punished. He could hear the poor creature whimpering as the guards beat him to his knees and murmured horrible stories of what life would be like with a missing hand. Then he remembered a voice inside his head, telling him that he would give him the power to escape for almost no price at alll. The boy was at once both relieved and terribly frightened to hear this voice, relieved because he would get away from that dingy cage but frightened by the toe-curling cruelty behind his savior's words.

And of course Zork had used him. It was Bakura's hate, his lust for revenge, that had made him such an easy target. Even now, over a millinia later, it seemed he was still subject to the demon's rule.

But something wasn't right. He could sense his captor's aura, and though it was every bit as evil as Zork's had been, something about it was different. It was like the thing's eyes, not quite matching the person it was supposed to represent. No, this wasn't Zork, but it was a creature equally dangerous.

"Do you remember now Bakura? Or perhaps you prefer Touzoko?"

The Thief shuddered. It knew his name! Not the name he had taken from his light but his actual name. But if this was not Zork, how could he know this? "Who are you?"

The phantom sighed in mock pity. "How pathetic! Your mind is already beginning to slip away from you." The thing's eyes glowed a brilliant red, and their surroundings changed. The cell melted away. In its place stood row upon row of clay huts. Clay brick walls shone bone white in the moonlight, all but for where blood had stained them a venomous black.

"Do you really think I'm stupid enough to believe you're actually Zork? Stop this game!" Bakura's words sounded more like a plea than a command. The creature seemed to realize this, but it also realized that the spirit wasn't fooled. At once it began to change it's form. As Zork's features melted away, it felt to the Thief that those terrifying eyes were burrowing deeper and deeper into his soul. He bit down hard on his lip. It hurt. It was as if the monster were sorting through his memories, examining them until it found what it was looking for.

"How about this? Do you remember who I am now?"

Bakura forced his eyes back to his captor only to find a girl of maybe sixteen years standing in his place. Her skin was the color of polished cedar. Her hair cascaded down her back like a ocean of stormy clouds. The voice too had changed. It was now soft, airy, even kind, but still it was false. Bakura stared fixedly at this girl, forgetting that she wasn't real, that her eyes were still shining with rancid blood.

"Little brother..."

Bakura knew this wasn't real, that this creature wasn't his sister at all, but this time nothing could force down the terrified scream rising in his throat. The frosty hatred in his soul gave way, and the spirit was left with nothing but fear. He cried out again and again,slipping further into panic. He could see that Kuru Eruna wasn't empty after all. People swarmed all around him, and the flames crackled with fantastic intensity. The thing now hiding behind the faces of his past disappeared. Bakura was left to watch once more as his loved ones burned.

"Why didn't you avenge our people, little brother? Even after I died for you...were you really too weak? Or were you just not trying?"

"No...NO!" A tearless sob wracked his entire body. He could hear her screaming now, screaming as the soldiers skewered her slender body with pikes and daggers. He heard the sickening thud as she was slung over someone's shoulder and carried away to be tossed into the vats of molten gold and shadowy intentions. The Thief tried to tell himself that this was a malignant spirit and not his sister, but as the fires spread he found it harder and harder to hold this thought. Others were being taken as well. Silence suddenly filled the air, broken only by the moans of those unlucky few who were not quite dead. Bakura fell to his knees.

"Please," he whispered. "Please stop this." It was almost as if the shadows had been waiting for a cue. In an instant Kuru Eruna dissolved, and he was once more in the confines of the little cell. So abrupt was this change that for a moment the tombrobber fell into a daze. His vision blurred, and all he was aware of was the burning in his chest and the welcomed disappearence of his terrifying captor. He watched the unnatural light dance across the walls. One spot seemed to be flickering with exceptional voracity.

"I see she's found you as well, Bakura. Welcome to the domain of the Priestess."

Bakura stumbled back in surprise before taking a moment to regain control of his eyesight. His breath caught as he realized who it was that he'd mistaken for a bit of shifting light.

Mariku was far weaker than he'd ever been at Battle City. He was propped against the wall and didn't look as if he even had the strength to get up. The Darkness' once well-muscled body had wasted away, leaving his shoulders and slightly bent knees looking far too angular. In fact, if it weren't for his mass of disgruntled hair, Bakura wouldn't have recognized the young spirit at all. Even his eyes had changed. They still held insanity, but the gleam of sadism had vanished. Instead it had been replaced by Mariku's own pain along with a good deal of desperation and...and acceptence. But at least his eyes were violet. At least Bakura could be sure that this familiar face was no imposter.

"What in Ra's name are you doing here?" The Thief moved towards the Darkness but flinched as the agony in his torso flared. Looking down he was surprised to see a number of geometrical gashes covering his bare chest.

Mariku smirked mirthlessly at the other's stupified expression. "They are shallow now, but each time the Priestess comes the scars will burn deeper."

"How do you know this?"

"I've been here for some time."

"And your scars?"

Mariku's smile faded, and in that instant his eyes reflected such despair that even the tombrobber was moved to pity. The blonde pulled his knees closer to his chest, allowing Bakura to glimpse the crusted blood drying on his thighs. They stayed like this for what seemed like hours, the Thief staring queasily at the other's violated body. Mariku bowed his head, and for a moment the other thought he had passed out, but then the answer came, lost and hurt and wretchedly broken.

"There are many kinds of scars."

-TOT