Scarshipping (Rishid x Thief King Bakura)

No one knew where the Thief King had gotten his scar. Some said he had taken the wound in a battle with a dragon – which he had won, of course. Others said it was the mark of Anubis, dealt out when the Thief King had battled his way out of the Underworld and cheated death.

No one knew the truth...except for Bakura himself, of course.

It had been a dark night. Bakura had been barely twelve years old, scrounging for food on the streets of Kemet, holing up in the ruins of Kul Elna at night. He had learned much in those catacombs, oh yes. Taught the secrets of magic by the spirits of his deceased kinsmen, he had learned how to kill a man without touching him, summon beasts of terrible power, and had nursed a deep hatred for the man who had done this to his people, a hatred nurtured by the whispers of the spirits around him.

At first, he hadn't been surprised to see the boy appear on the steps into the Millennium chamber. Ghosts and spirits did so all the time while Bakura was practicing his magic in the underground chamber. But when he had realized that the being was made of flesh and blood, he had turned on the boy.

His magic snaked through the air like lightning, aimed to kill – but then it changed its course and hit a wall instead. Bakura's dark eyes flashed to his opponent. He was taller than Bakura, broad-shouldered even for his obviously young age. His tanned features were soft, his head mostly shaved but for a single ponytail of black hair. He wore a long, dark cloak, and brown eyes looked out from under heavy brows with deep determination. He looked a bit surprised when he saw Bakura, but that was quickly replaced with a stony, unreadable gaze. He was obviously practiced at hiding his emotions.

"Who are you?" Bakura asked.

The boy didn't answer right away, but when he did, his voice was deep and rich.

"I am Rishid," he said. "And you...you are Bakura, are you not?"

Bakura paused. How did this boy know who he was? Bakura had never told his name to anyone. Bakura pretended to consider the question, as he put his hands behind his back and weaved a new spell.

"I might be," Bakura said, wandering forward a bit. "But I've never heard of a Rishid...so who's asking, and why?"

"I am from the future," Rishid said.

Bakura dropped the spell in alarm. The future? How could that be?

"Don't believe me? Use your magic senses...I know you can. I've read much about you."

Read about him? Bakura felt a bit of satisfaction trickle through him. Somehow, he would become someone of importance, if this boy who claimed to be from the future would know about him. Interesting...it might be fun to see how this would go.

Bakura took the boy's advice and sent his mind forward into the air. Rishid had not been lying – his aura did not belong to the air around it...it was like the two pressures of magic rejected each other. That was why Bakura's spell had been reflected...apparently he could not affect the future.

"So, you are who you say you are," Bakura mused. "But what do you want from me?"

Bakura did not miss the flicker of apprehension in Rishid's eyes.

"Something wrong?" Bakura drawled.

Rishid's expression hardened.

"No."

"You don't look very happy to be here."

"It took me a long time to learn how to world walk," Rishid said, pulling his cloak around him. "But this is the only plane to which I can go. Others might disagree with this but...I have no other choice."

Hm...this boy was here without permission. Interesting.

Bakura wandered a bit closer.

"So...what is so important that you would come to me?"

"It is said that you know much of ancient magics," Rishid said. "I want to learn of rune magic. There's a particular passage that I'm looking for, actually, and it is only here, in Kul Elna."

Rune magic? Interesting.

"Why, may I ask?"

Rishid's eyes darkened.

"My reasons are my own."

Bakura slowly drew a knife from his sleeve, tossing it up and down lazily. He kept his eyes fixed on Rishid.

"What if I refused?"

Rishid's gaze didn't waver.

"You can't touch me, and I can't touch you," Rishid said. "We are from two different times. I will find the passage I'm looking for on the walls of Kul Elna, and you cannot stop me."

Bakura considered this. Slowly, he replaced the knife. He would let Rishid play this little game for a bit longer...and then he would make his move.

"Well, as long as you do not bother me," Bakura said, sweeping his arm in a mocking bow to Rishid. "Go right ahead and find your precious passage."

He turned away from Rishid and made a show of returning to practicing magic.

He could feel Rishid's eyes on his back for a moment. Then the boy turned and walked to one of the walls. Bakura watched Rishid from the corner of his eye, considering the boy as he studied the hieroglyphics across the walls. He worked his way around the room slowly, carefully. As he did so, Bakura read the magic that kept Rishid here. It was no different from the magic that allowed the spirits to wander Kul Elna.

And Bakura had long ago learned how to reach across that magic in order to kill a spirit.

Bakura rose slowly. Rishid had worked his way to a place where his back was to Bakura. He had paused right there, and was staring at the hieroglyphics intently. Interesting...that was a binding spell he appeared to be memorizing. A ritual to attach a person to a certain task, turning their magic into one of protection for the subject of their attachment...so, he had someone or something he wanted to protect. Fascinating.

Bakura stalked the boy, silent as a jackal. The knife slid back into his palm, reinforced with a few words of power. Now this knife could pierce worlds...

He was almost on top of Rishid before the boy noticed him. Bakura's knife whistled through the air, catching Rishid right against his left shoulder blade. Rishid did not cry out. He instead stiffened, and as Bakura drew his knife back out to stab again, he was already whipped around and catching Bakura across the face.

The boy's hand, however, seemed to glance off of him. Bakura grinned wickedly as Rishid realized that he could not piece the magic that separated them like Bakura could. Bakura shot forward once more with his dagger. But Rishid was resourceful, it seemed. He caught Bakura hand where it gripped the hilt, and the magic of the dagger allowed Rishid to grab hold.

Bakura may have been quicker and more skilled in magic than Rishid, but Rishid was undeniably stronger physically. He easily peeled Bakura's hand from the hilt, and then the magically enforced dagger was his. Bakura was not easily dissuaded, however, and yet another knife appeared in his hand. This one, too, was reinforced, and the pair swiped futilely at each other. Rishid was slower, and he took another slash across the chest. But the motion threw Bakura off balance, and then Rishid swung down.

The black sliced down Bakura's cheek, and blood spurted into his left eye. Bakura gasped, and leapt back. He hurriedly tried to blink the blood from his eye, wary of an attack at any second –

But it never came. And when his vision finally cleared, Rishid was gone. Bakura touched his cheek gingerly. That would leave a scar. Damn.

Years later, however, he did not mind the scar so much. In fact, he enjoyed hearing the rumors of how he got it. And in the silent moments of the night, he would send a sardonic thank you to the mysterious Rishid of the future, who had made him appear even more of a monstrous terror to the pitiful people of Kemet.

A/N: I thought it would be interesting to delve into how Rishid figured out what to carve onto his face, and how Bakura got his scar. I'll probably come up with a much more plausible idea later, but since it is "scar"shipping, I couldn't resist. Next is Scaleshipping (Karim x Shadi).