Life and Air


Bakura didn't get out much. He had been trapped in a golden trinket for thousands of years. True, it was an extremely dangerous golden trinket, but that fact didn't change the 'trapped' factor.

Ryou was the one who had freed him from that prison. The one who had (against all obstacles Bakura threw up) bonded with him, offered (not willingly, admittedly) his body as one Bakura could inhabit as his own.

Ryou was his escape, his air.

Ryou was not one to live properly on his own. He was detached, cold; he couldn't help it. There was something about him that made others nervous, and he didn't have the strength of personality to overcome it.

Bakura was one person (if you could call him that) who really didn't care about that. He had fire, passion, even if it was mostly negative. He had determination and will, and he didn't go away.

Bakura was his fire, his life.

Mariku was a mere shade, really. He was a conglomeration of evil thoughts and pained feelings given personoid form. He existed to protect the feelings of his other.

Malik was his creator, his body, the constant companion. He was the one who needed him, his protection. If Malik wasn't there, Mariku's existence would be pointless. He wouldn't have existed in the first place.

Malik was his blood, his life.

Malik was trapped. He had been trapped all his life, at first without his knowledge, and now willfully, woven into the trap of life with his family. He didn't mind that, but it didn't make him any less trapped.

Mariku freed him from that trap. He didn't have the same restrictions Malik did. He acted on Malik's feelings when he couldn't. Mariku had no boundaries.

Mariku was his freedom, his air.