Chapter 4
Host, Spirit, Soul
Ryou managed to stuff the Millennium Ring in his jacket pocket just before Yugi-or maybe Yami- pulled him back.
"Are you okay?" a voice murmured; it was Yami.
Ryou nodded; "yes," and he backed up with everyone else who was watching the figure watching all of them, confusion stricken all across their faces.
"You're Marik?" Yami said, his voice much braver than Ryou's could have been in that moment.
The person calling himself Marik tilted his head; it would have looked endearing on almost anyone else, but now it looked creepy. Ryou felt himself budging nearer to Yami.
"I am the real Marik, his better half, the one who can complete the task that he failed to do."
"You want my God card, and my Puzzle," Yami realised.
The one called Marik nodded only slightly, his mouth curving a slow smirk.
Ryou was mostly wondering why nobody cared to ask how Namu-Marik-whatever his name was, had suddenly changed so drastically. That had been weird, perhaps more scary than a malfunctioning God card.
"You want a God card you'll have to duel for it, like everyone else," Kaiba spoke up. The CEO was standing a little way back from everyone else, arms folded and entirely unimpressed by what he was looking at. Things like this didn't seem to phase Kaiba very much, Ryou remembered.
Marik looked at Kaiba, amused and curious. "I will duel then."
Tea cleared her throat; she was holding Yami's shoulder, because he looked like he might go for this new Marik at any moment. "Er, are you saying the tournament is still on? Because considering all that's just happened..."
Joey scowled at Kaiba; "Trust you. We've got freaky transformations, people getting struck by lightning, but card games are still the way to go, right?" he was still holding the fake Marik upright, who looked completely unconscious now.
"This is still my tournament," Kaiba growled, his eyes on Marik. "It will go on until we've determined a winner." He glanced at Yami, expecting a response.
He was right, and Yami looked furious; "this is ridiculous, Kaiba. After all that's happened-"
"This blimp is staying in the air, so unless you can think of a way to get off on your own, I'm afraid you have no choice but to finish the tournament, along with everyone else," Kaiba turned on his heel, leaving no room for argument.
"That's real mature, Kaiba," Joey snorted.
"You go through to the next round, Wheeler," Kaiba said, with his best dismissive voice; "you'd better be ready in case you have to face that freak."
Nobody needed to know he was referring to the new, strange Marik that stood vaguely smirking between them all. He held the Millennium Rod in his hand, but his stance was confident and did not invite a fight.
"Let's call it a night," Yami said. "Tomorrow we can settle this."
8
Ryou was grateful of Yami's suggestion, and he hurried back to his room and dropped with some exhaustion onto the bed. He pulled the Millennium Ring out of his pocket and stared at it.
It was glowing, more than Ryou could ever remember before. Usually it only did that when the Spirit was in the process of possessing him; it was often the only fair warning Ryou got that it was about to happen. But sometimes it glowed when other Millennium Items were nearby, like the time he'd first encountered Yugi and his friends.
Now it was glowing and it felt warm and urgent.
Ryou shook his head; the Spirit was trying to break through the mind link again. It had been doing it on and off the past few days, and Ryou had been pleased to find himself able to keep it out. It was getting more forceful now, though. Ryou could sense the agitation in the Spirit, and some desperation too.
Whatever was wrong, it really wanted to speak to him.
Ryou bit his lip. "Did you do that?" he asked, feeling a little stupid. He didn't usually speak to inanimate objects, even if they happened to be Millennium ones. "did you make Namu...Marik...do that?"
The Ring glowed an unhelpful response, not that Ryou had expected anything else.
He winced as the Spirit's familiar essence pulled at his link once more. There was a spark this time. It'd almost gotten through.
"I'm not letting you," Ryou growled, "do you hear?" he threw it on the floor, watched it edgily, almost expecting a response from the wretched thing.
Of course the Ring did not answer him and Ryou knew better than to put it on.
It was the last thing he was going to do.
88
Marik tried to hug some warmth into his aching limbs, and wondered where he had gone so wrong.
A fake God card, a fake staff, a fake Marik. Perhaps it had not been the best plan. He rubbed his head; the buzzing had gone, which was his only relief from all of this. His throat felt raw with a laugh he couldn't remember laughing, and the Soul Room floor was comforting against his body, which had felt like it was on fire for a short while.
The Soul Room had been his chosen refuge, when the buzzing had gotten too loud, and that had been his biggest mistake.
It had all been a mistake. The Ring, and wearing it, and trusting the Spirit that had seemed like it could be trusted.
Marik knew he'd been a fool just for that.
He watched the Spirit with a detached hate. Right now it was pacing up and down the Soul Room trying to break through to Ryou's firm, unmoving link, occasionally muttering choice curse words. It was like watching a frustrated teenager trying to get a signal on a mobile phone.
Marik would have found it amusing, if not for the whole lacking a body situation.
The sensation itself, being bodiless, was not particularly strange. Marik felt like he always did upon being in the Spirit's Soul Room, there was nothing different about that. The only difference was that he had no link to the outside anymore. There was no body waiting for him, that he could search for within his mind.
It had been his safety, because even if he'd wanted to trust the Spirit, the body had always been an assurance that he could escape the Soul Room if it came to that. He'd never felt trapped here before. Now he did, because he was.
He was at the Spirit's mercy, he was a prisoner and an object for the Spirit to scorn, to laugh at and tell Marik how easy it was to deceive him like this.
Bakura was still walking about the Soul Room, eyes closed and cursing even more colourfully. He would get to his scorning and laughing soon enough though. Marik was sure of it.
"Ryou won't let you through, you're wasting your time," he reminded the Spirit, because he wanted to see him get angrier.
Bakura didn't stop pacing, but he opened his eyes and spared Marik a glance;
"My host is weak, he'll break eventually."
Marik shook his head; "you're wrong. You underestimate Ryou more than anything. He's stronger than you think."
"Is that so?" the Spirit sounded irritated, but most of his concentration was still on the link, "we'll see, Marik."
"You won't see," Marik said, and he could almost enjoy this. There was nothing else left to do, he may as well get some pleasure out of tormenting the Spirit. "I spoke to Ryou, and he's not what you think he is. He's not weak anymore."
The Spirit stopped walking and stood in front of Marik, his mouth a thin line and giving away no thoughts at all.
Marik sneered; "you can't get through, can you? Why don't you admit it's useless?"
The Spirit seemed to waver for a second, like he was deliberating words and whether they might help.
"If you want your body back we need to contact my host," he said. "You might be a bit more helpful and stop your useless sulking."
Marik stared up at the Spirit, feeling like he'd been slapped. Then he cursed himself for being so shocked anyway. Bakura wasn't there to offer him sympathy. Bakura was a Spirit and he did not care.
Marik narrowed his eyes; "Why would you want to help me get it back? You took it away from me in the first place."
Bakura shook his head; "you humans are so fickle. Do you ever know what you really want?"
"You know what I want now," Marik said, glaring hard; "my body," he watched as the Spirit averted his eyes to the corners of his Soul Room. He did that a lot, Marik noticed. What was the thing looking for, anyway?
Marik peered round too, the Soul Room was suddenly much more ominous now he knew there was no way to get out of it. It was colder too, and the walls that faded away into darkness seemed more dangerous. Marik just wished the Spirit would get on with mocking and torturing him, or whatever he planned to do.
"Your darkness was up there," Bakura pointed up, seeming to notice that Marik was looking there too. "It escaped and found your body though."
"Tell me something I don't know."
The Spirit shook his head thoughtfully, Marik's snipes didn't seem to be bothering him. "what I don't understand is how you ended up here."
Marik curled his lip; "for saying you're a centuries year old Spirit, you're fairly useless."
The Spirit's eyes darkened. "Don't try my patience, Marik."
"Or what?" Marik didn't care. He'd lost his body, what did he have left? "Please tell me, Spirit. I really want to know."
The Spirit's face flashed anger, and Marik grinned. He wondered how far he could take it...
To his surprise and vague disappointment, the Spirt whirled away. But Marik could see his fists curled, fighting a dangerous aggression. Marik still wasn't afraid; he'd learnt not to be afraid of Bakura. That wasn't going to change, even if he hated him now.
"It wouldn't have worked anyway, Marik."
"What?" Marik stared at the back of the Spirit's head.
"The God cards will not tolerate a fake," the Spirit explained. " I would have thought you of all humans would know that. You should have predicted their fury."
Marik opened his mouth, wanting to protest, but found he had no words. He knew he'd gambled a lot on that part of the plan, and he'd put others in needless danger to do it. The Spirit was right there.
"Are you saying that the God cards brought my supposed darkness out?" he asked.
Bakura shrugged; "does it matter?"
"Not really," Marik scowled and turned away from the Spirit's haughty face. "I'm still without my body."
"Maybe there's another way to tap into my host," the Spirit said. He looked at Marik again. "But it would require your help."
Marik scoffed; "why on earth would I do that? You think I'm really that stupid, don't you?"
"You said you spoke to Ryou," the Spirit ignored him. "Is that right?"
"I spoke to him for a short while. Long enough for him to tell me how you made his life such a misery. We have lots in common."
Bakura eyed the ceiling thoughtfully. "Do you think he trusts you?"
Marik looked sarcastic. "I don't know. We didn't chat for too long, with me busy getting consumed by this darkness and losing my body, in case you forgot."
"He might be more willing to talk to you through the link," the Spirit said. "Maybe then we can use his body to get your's back."
Marik saw the plan formulating easily in the Spirit's eyes, and it made sense. He stood up wearily, ignoring the faint protest of his aching limbs. He stared at the Spirit;
"What if you decide not to find my body?"
For a moment Bakura looked like he didn't have an answer. Then he shrugged.
"You're just going to have to trust me."
Marik wanted to laugh, but he saw Bakura was neither smirking or scowling or anything like that. His face was blank and open and didn't hint at anything suspicious. Marik almost felt like he had no choice. And he didn't really.
What else was there left to lose? His soul to a Soul Room? He didn't imagine it could get much worse. The Spirit was who he had come to, when the buzzing had gotten too much. He'd come to it because he'd hoped for help and safety.
Now, for all appearances, the Spirit was still offering it to him.
Marik searched the dark brown eyes, as if a glint of deceit might reveal itself so suddenly. It didn't and Marik shook his head.
"Alright, Bakura. But don't let me regret it."
"Or what?" Bakura grinned as he stepped forwards. The Spirit closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them he looked determined; "my host is still near to the Ring, but the barrier is still up."
"What do we do?" Marik asked.
"In order for you to communicate with my host you have to break through my own link, or become a part of it as it were," Bakura paused, giving Marik a careful look, "to do that you must concentrate on my own essence, as I concentrate on my host's. Do you understand?"
"I think so," Marik said slowly. He thought about mind links and his own experiences; "Is it anything like the powers of the Millennium Rod?"
"I doubt it. With the Rod you are putting your mind within an unwilling host, and there is only one barrier there. For this you will need to follow my link and concentrate on my host's at the same time."
Bakura paused, giving Marik time to reflect. When the Spirit spoke again his voice was lower;
"I've not done this before. I can't be sure how well a wholly human soul will cope with it."
"It doesn't matter," Marik said. "I'll do anything."
The Spirit eyed Marik for a minute more, then he nodded, seemingly satisfied. He took a step nearer, which seemed unnecessarily close, and he cleared his throat.
"There, er, needs to be a physical connection."
Marik backed up, nearly tripping over his feet; "forget it, you're not getting anything like that from me-"
Bakura's eyes widened, and embarrassment looked oddly hilarious on the Spirit's face.
"Not like that!" the Spirit said roughly. "I mean hands, we link our hands. It will strengthen the connection."
Marik sighed, thoughts about sadistic blood rituals or torture procedures leaving his mind. "Oh right. That makes sense."
He held out his arms, a few inches from Bakura.
Bakura stared at them like they might be dangerous.
It took a few awkward seconds, but then the Spirit's hands found Marik's like unsteady claws. Marik almost flinched at their dreadful coldness, but he was used to the Soul Room by now, and these hands were that familiar feeling.
Marik stared at the hands wrapped in his until he caught Bakura watching him.
"You never got that tv set, I notice," he heard himself say, anything to defuse an awkward situation.
Bakura tilted his head, giving him a funny look. Marik could have almost smiled at it. He felt the Spirit's hands twitch a bit in his, but nothing else.
"Are you ready?" the Spirit asked.
"I guess," Marik hesitated; "but, er, what exactly am I supposed to do?"
Bakura looked rather unsure himself. "You should probably try and break through my link, then you should be able to find Ryou's through mine," he paused. "I think."
Marik nodded, although he still had no idea how he was going to do this. He felt Bakura's hands curve a bit more into his, and he followed suite, closing his eyes when Bakura closed his.
There was no sense of anything at first, never mind a sense of the Spirit. At first Marik worried, thinking that maybe now that he was bodiless he had no real connection to the Spirit anymore. Then slowly, gradually, he felt a familiar essence creeping around the edges of his mind.
Cold and dark, definitely the Soul Room, but containing something more that defined Bakura. Marik latched onto it, willing it to grow.
"That's right," Bakura sounded gruff. "Do that."
Marik wavered in his concentration, the harsh voice of the one he was joined to made him feel angry. Angry like he'd just lost his body, angry like Spirits could not be trusted...
"I can't-"
The hands on his own were suddenly tighter and almost painful, forcing him to hold on.
"Don't be a weak human. The link is closer than you think," Bakura's voice was sharp and pushing.
"I'm trying," Marik felt angrier, and his hands were hurting in Bakura's grip, their coldness seeping through and up his arms. The darkness was fading from his mind though, he needed to concentrate.
He focussed on the edges of the darkness once more, and this time they crept closer, like ink bleeding all into his mind and smothering his own sense of self. If it had been all cold and dank, as Marik was used to being in the Spirit's Soul Room, it would have been an entirely unpleasant experience.
As it was, the darkness seemed to fade out a bit, not disappear, but reform itself into a different colour. The colour was a dark red and it hit Marik all at once. It felt warm and lively and images were flashing at the tomb keeper before he could prepare himself.
He could see himself. Himself laughing, himself grinning, himself being stupid, but somehow it was funny. He could see his hand on a very pale arm, he could feel electricity which wasn't his rushing through his bones. He could see his own eyes, shining and happier than he ever thought he could be.
The warmth was burning inside of him, and it was overwhelming and wonderful.
Somewhere, perhaps in another place, he felt cold hands on his own jerk a bit.
The images of himself began to fade off then, as he delved deeper into the Spirit's mind. The dark red colour was still there, but it was swirling now, and getting faster and faster, like a vicious whirlpool. Marik was finding it harder to breathe as he entered a dark which reminded him of the Soul Room. It was everywhere, and it crawled into his mind, invading and violating every part of him.
The images came far too fast this time for Marik to really register. He saw a very young boy he did not recognise, he saw a place, houses he did not recognise, and there was screaming everywhere.
Marik was terrified. The red was draining away and replacing it with the darkness he dreaded, even though he didn't know why he should.
He gasped, it came from a mouth he had forgot he had. And as he remembered his mouth he remembered his body, or more the soul that still remained.
Marik cried out, and then he was himself again.
He opened his eyes. He was on his knees in the Soul Room, breathing heavily, needing the air. His hands were shaking against someone else's. He looked up.
Bakura was opposite him, staring at him, his face furious but determined. His fingers curled against Marik's.
"Don't break the link," he said roughly. "Ryou is almost here."
Marik nodded, ignoring the sickness in his throat and trying to forget all the images and feelings that still flickered about in his head. He'd seen darkness and it had been horrible and fascinating and far too much.
"Namu?"
Ryou's voice echoed about the Soul Room. He sounded scared.
"Are you really there, Namu?"
Marik blinked in surprise.
"I told him you were here," Bakura said wearily. "You need to speak to him."
"Oh," Marik cleared his throat, licked his lips. "Yes, Ryou, I'm all here. Well, some of me," he paused. "I'm just a soul right now. And, er, I'm not Namu. I'm Marik."
"A soul? Marik?" Ryou sounded confused. "Why...what..." his voice tailed off. "I'm really confused."
Marik absently noticed Bakura pull a face, a tired disdain for his host.
"It's okay," Marik said quickly. "It's confusing, but I need you to listen, so you can help me, okay?"
"I'll do whatever I can," Ryou said.
"Right, well," Marik felt himself relaxing a little more. He was still aware that he was talking through Bakura's link, but it was easy to do. At least there was no scary darkness and strange images anymore. "I...we need your body, Ryou. So that I can get my own back. Do you understand?"
Ryou spoke after a moment. ""I...I guess," there was another short pause, "Are you going to possess me, Nam...I mean Marik?"
Marik looked at Bakura for an answer. Bakura shook his head.
The silence seemed to tell enough to Ryou. "the Spirit?" he said rigidly.
Marik glanced back at Bakura, who was watching the ground now with fixed concentration, like he wasn't even involved in the conversation.
"Yes," Marik said, "the Spirit will have to possess you."
The silence that hung around them seemed to go on for ages. Marik suspected it had little to do with the strange way time worked in the Soul Room, more to do with Ryou's very understandable reluctance.
"Marik, make sure nothing happens," Ryou said abruptly, when it seemed the silence would stretch into forever.
Marik started to answer yes, but Bakura interrupted.
"He's gone now."
Marik felt the Spirit's hands pull away from his in one quick movement. A wave of relief and weakness washed over Marik as he rested on hands and knees, no longer having to worry about links.
"You'll be alright," Bakura told him.
Marik looked up to see the Spirit was standing, face stern and nothing else. He turned away from Marik as he started to focus on Ryou again.
Marik massaged his forehead, closed his eyes and was grateful for a darkness that was not hiding anything.
"My host is wearing the Ring," Bakura said, sounding pleased. "You humans stick together, I suppose."
Marik stared at the Spirit's hand which was held out, offering to haul him up. Marik took it in a moment, and it didn't feel as cold as he remembered. Bakura's smirk was even closer to a smile.
Marik smiled too. "Thank you, Bakura."
The Spirit raised a brow, like he didn't really understand. Marik didn't expect him to, he was learning a lot of lessons about Spirits recently.
88
Returning to his host's body was like slipping into familiar warm waters. Ryou's link had opened up very quickly and Bakura had wasted no time.
Walking along the narrow corridor of the blimp he was aware of Marik in his mind; a human presence that felt stronger for some reason. He blocked out Ryou, as he always did, and waited for Marik's voice to find him.
"Did it work?" the human asked.
"Perfectly," Bakura said. "A body is a fine thing to have,"
"Don't rub it in," Marik said with some humour, and Bakura was glad that the human felt warm again.
It must have been pulling him, the swarm of dark that had resided briefly in his Soul Room, because he found it again soon enough. Bakura stopped outside a doorway that was already partially open. He felt Marik bristle in his mind.
"It's here, isn't it?" the human said.
"Seems so," Bakura pushed the door quietly open.
Light pooled onto the carpet as he entered, and by the bed was a dark figure. His silhouette was mostly spikes and a cloak. On the bed was a man who looked ill but sleeping. Bakura moved in and noticed the Millennium Rod was raised above the bed, ready to strike.
"My brother!" Marik sounded full of alarm. It told Bakura enough.
He stepped out of the shadows; "So you're the unexpected darkness in my Soul Room."
The figure turned round; a sneering creature that Bakura could not really recognise as Marik. It was too different to be relatable to anything human, and Bakura knew human presence quite well, these days.
The figure laughed; his voice deep and scratched. He lowered the Millennium Rod only slightly.
"And you're the darkness I found. It's nice to have company again."
Bakura smiled a bit; "It must be nice for you, having a body."
"It was easy to obtain. My weaker half is just that, you see."
Bakura felt unknown emotions belonging to Marik in his head. He imagined the frightened look on the human's face with a frown.
"Your other half would like his body back, if it's no trouble, of course."
The Dark Marik laughed, and the sound made Bakura move nearer, perhaps unconsciously. He had been right; this darkness was a very powerful one, and it made Bakura hungry.
"My other half," Dark Marik grinned. "You've got him hidden within you. It must be a burden. We shouldn't have to deal with these humans."
Bakura found it difficult to concentrate on the words, since the darkness was very strong now. It was the abyss given form. He remembered it's attraction.
He felt Marik's link in his head, frightened. It made Bakura concentrate;
"If you're not giving the body back willingly, I'll have to use force."
"Dark Bakura," Dark Marik said the name with relish. "I know you like games, and I know your mind well enough that you won't object to this one."
Bakura noticed the other raise the Millennium Rod, it was glowing and Bakura knew what was coming. He searched his Ring's powers, an old, reliable weapon that glowed against his chest as it came into action.
"We'll play a game," Bakura said, as the room around them became sick and distorted as a melting oil painting; "but under my terms."
In front of him, Dark Marik's grin did not falter.
88
notes: Next chapter expect a different sort of game in the Shadow Realm and an important decision that affects almost everyone!