A/N: Hi! Knowing that Mikazuki means crescent moon will help you understand one bit of this chapter. Also, despite the fact that so far there's been more Bakura and Malik interaction, this will not be turning into a Bakura/Malik fic, just so you know.

Shattered Crescent

Part Three

"But Rishid, I have no idea where he is," told Ishizu Ishtar, normally calm and collected but now worried sick about her brother. "All he did was leave a note saying he was taking care of something." She paced back and forth in her stepbrother's room, waving said note in the air. "He could have been a bit more specific."

The man sitting on a desk chair had listened calmly until now, speaking up for the first time since Ishizu had burst into the room. "Maybe you should give him some space; he isn't a little boy anymore."

Ishizu stopped, turning to Rishid, her shoulders slumping. "I know that, but I worry. What if something happens to him? Just because I wasn't there to protect him again? I couldn't bear it." Ishizu knew her oldest brother was worried too; he was just calmer about it. She couldn't let her baby brother just walk out like that, into the big bad world. Anything could happen and nothing good had ever come out of disappearing Maliks.

Rishid did not smile but his eyes softened. "Malik can take care of himself now."

New determination showed in Ishizu but it had nothing to do with Rishid's words. "I'm going to go find him."

"But Ishizu-" He was ignored as Ishizu disappeared through the doorway, closing the door with a bit more force than necessary.

She would find Malik and bring him back home where he was safe from harm and where she could look over him and make sure the past wouldn't repeat itself. Malik would be home in no time at all, and even though he might be angry with her, he would eventually thank her. Ishizu was convinced she knew better because she had always been right in the past. Malik just refused to acknowledge the fact and always got in trouble without her.

Yes, Ishizu knew what was best for her little brother.

Ishizu knew nothing but without her constant pampering, Malik probably hadn't had the urge to go wandering around on his own, which in turn taught him all sort of useful skills needed in life, manipulation being just one of them. The looking after had been done out of guilt but Ishizu didn't realize that Malik had never blamed her. Those thoughts were unwanted now though so he pushed them aside and eyed the building and the double doors in front of him warily. Earlier that day, he had heard of this place from some people in a street corner and they had told that it was perfectly legal but the people inside weren't.

The neon letters above the door read "Devil's Lair" but the D flicked on and off so occasionally the name morphed into "evil's Lair", which seemed better suited for the bar's reputation. Malik had been told the worst scum of Domino hung out there but among the worst, were also the best of the worst.

He pushed one of the two doors open and strode in, still a bit on edge but not letting it show. His senses were assaulted by cigarette smoke that hung over the round tables sprinkled around in seemingly random patterns, faint music and chatter being the dominating sounds. There was no bouncer but he supposed that most, if not all, of these people had some sort of weapon; who would want to start something when he or she could be stabbed or shot by anyone present?

Few of the customers glanced his way but otherwise Malik was left alone to sit in a table near the back. On the small stage in the opposite end someone stood, nose buried on a piece of paper, reading aloud something Malik guessed was a poem. He thought this was strange but decided not to judge since he wasn't in Egypt anymore.

The trip to the KC tower had been uneventful but hadn't gone to waste. He had talked with one of the security guards and with some innocent curiosity and pleasant behavior he had gotten all sort of information. It was amazing how gullible some people could be but he wasn't complaining as it worked for his advantage.

While Malik scanned his surroundings, he was surprised to find a familiar face among the crowd. It was the man from last night who had run into him. His sister would have said that coming across the same person twice in a big city like this was a sign and now their destinies had been intertwined or something, to which Malik would have rolled his eyes, and even without his sister present, he did just that.

Empty eyes stared up at him, mouth open in silent scream. A girl with long flowing black hair shrieked from behind him, choking on her sobs. "No! Next month! Next month! No!" She made no sense and Ryou covered his ears but couldn't block out the sound. It penetrated his skull and before he noticed, warm liquid was pouring out from his ears, tainting his deathly pale hands and turning black.

The empty eyed man gripped his hands, one eye staring at him but the other looking up. "That's mine. You stole it."

Ryou screamed when the black liquid reached his knees and the man refused to let go. Mrs. Nakashima floated by, a knife sticking out of her forehead when she turned her head, body otherwise motionless, to stare at him. The knife fell off and a yell cut through the air but Ryou didn't know whose it was…

Ryou shot up from his bed, distorted and panting. He looked around in panic before realizing where he was, calming down bit by bit, taking deep breaths. Not another one of those…

He fell back on the bed, head hitting the puffy pillow. All he wanted was to sleep, not too much to ask. Tomorrow was the last day of work before the weekend and it would be nice to wake up refreshed but no. No restful sleep for Ryou. Ryou hadn't earned his sleep by catching the evil man yet.

Ryou thought about getting up and going to his medicine cabinet for help but decided against it. That would do no good in the long run. He closed his eyes again instead, sighing and pulling his covers up to his chin. He couldn't wait for morning.

"Hey, Sawaga," Bakura spoke to the bartender. "Do you know who's he?" He nodded towards the tanned blond sitting near the back, the same one who had walked into him the night before. It was an odd coincidence that they met again and he was a bit curious to know why. The man in his mid thirties glanced at the direction Bakura had pointed, frowning.

"Not a clue. This is the first time I've seen him here and I haven't had the chance to talk to him yet."

Bakura grinned at the familiar man. "Humph, funny; normally you can't wait to interrogate the new ones."

Sawaga gave him a mock glare. "Watch it, Bakura, or I might stop sharing the gossip with you."

The young regular customer just laughed, knowing the other wasn't being serious. "You wouldn't do that, I'm your best customer." The comment got a huff and the bartender tried to swap Bakura with his disk towel.

"Sure you are. Get out of my sight before you piss me off."

Bakura had jumped down from his stool to dodge the towel and now backed off with a smirk. "Alright, I can tell when I'm unwanted. I'll just go bother someone else."

He began his way across the bar, walking past the tables, nodding to some people and sometimes exchanging a few words but the entire time heading towards his goal. The blond had noticed him and met his gaze and held it when Bakura was just few meters away from the table, the weird colored eyes looking somewhat suspicious.

Bakura sat opposite to the foreigner and leaned his chin on his palm, smirking a bit at the annoyance that flashed on the other's face.

"I don't remember inviting you to sit with me," told the stranger, leaning back in his seat.

"You looked so awfully alone here all by yourself I thought I'd keep you company."

The other smiled, also leaning on the table, voice as close to pleasant as he could get it. "How thoughtful of you, but, you see, I don't want your company so get the hell off my space." The smile never left his face as he spoke, never losing its warm and friendly quality.

Bakura just snorted at first but could help the laughter that burst through much to the other's utter annoyance. He calmed down after a while, just a grin remaining. "Got to give you points for the smile." The grin faded into a more serious expression. "Seriously though, what brings you to Domino? Not just sightseeing, are you?" As if someone came sightseeing here.

The other male crossed his fingers and leaned his head on them. "Why do you want to know?"

Bakura shrugged. "Out of curiosity. This is the second time I've seen you around these corners. Looking for someone to do your dirty work?" The raised eyebrow he got told that he had hit close home and decided to push a bit further. "You've come to the right place then."

The eyebrow went down to assist its companion in some frowning. "Look, I'm not discussing this with you but there is something I want taken care of."

"You should talk to Sawaga." Bakura gestured towards the bartender. "He knows everything about everyone."

After a moment of silence the other nodded. "Alright." He eyed Bakura a bit longer, a smirk forming. "I'm Malik by the way."

Bakura didn't like the look he was getting because it was too close to the one he sometimes gave to others and it never meant good for them. Despite any unease he was feeling, he returned the smirk. "Bakura."

Stepping through the gallery door, Ryou felt out of place. Most, if not all, the people inside seemed to be women at first glance. Well dressed women. Ryou hadn't been sure how he should dress so he had decided on one of his better plain white T-shirts and grey jeans that were worn around the knee area. The good thing was that because of the white walls, he was unlikely to stand out.

No one paid him any mind when he walked farther into the room, the ladies too busy talking amongst themselves and the few men too bored to notice anything, some paying more attention to the art than others. Ryou was glad no one noticed, or cared, how out of place he was and looked around, one particular painting catching his eye. He stopped to take a good look at it, taking in how the tones of red varied from almost white to deep crimson.

The image was of a crescent moon but it appeared warped, broken, with cracks running through it and pieces hanging loose, disfigured, and threatened to be swallowed by the darkness of the background. For some reason, watching it saddened Ryou and unsettled him, made him feel on edge and just a tiny bit paranoid. There was something so desperate about it, like in a cry for help, and Ryou reached out a finger to touch it, to comfort it, when the spell of the painting was broken by a voice.

"Do you like it?"

Ryou withdrew his hand and turned to look over his shoulder where the source of the voice was standing far too close and in his personal bubble. Ryou took a step away to have some more room in between them, and stared. The man had his white hair, almost the same shade as Ryou's, tied loosely, and a dark red button up, the same color as the liquid in his wineglass, revealing a slice of pale chest. His stance was confident and his eyes that appeared to match his shirt were fixed on Ryou.

Ryou shivered, blaming it on the temperature of the room and on the effect of the painting. Something dawned to him. "Mikazuki," he whispered, glancing back at the painting, then at the man who had raised an eyebrow at him. "T-that's a self portrait." His voice was louder now but still not much above a whisper.

The man blinked, tilting his head. "Why yes, yes it is." He took a sip of his drink and smirked. "What gave it away?"

Ryou felt nervous under the undivided attention and blushed, not sure if he liked to be looked at so intently. "I- It's just, um… I guess I had this feeling…" The man and the painting felt alike, but how could he explain that without looking weird? Not that there was anything in this man that cried for help but…

The smirk got an amused quality. "A feeling?"

"Y-yes, I-" Ryou smiled, unsettled, and flicked his eyes towards the floor to get away from the stare. "I've always been sensitive towards that sort of things…"

"Ah, I see." The eyes turned to look at the painting and Ryou let out a sigh of relief, careful not to be too loud. "Well, I am Mikazuki Bakura as you have guessed, and that's My self portrait." He looked at Ryou again, curious. "Who are you?"

"I'm Bakura Ryou, nice to meet you," Ryou hurried to introduce himself and bowed. The other just nodded, which Ryou found somewhat rude but let it drop.

"Hm, Bakura Ryou…" the artist sampled the name. "Then I insist to call you Ryou because otherwise it would be like talking to myself in third person. And of course, you can call me Bakura if you wish."

Ryou blushed. "But Mr. Mikazuki-"

"Bakura," the other cut him off.

"B-but…" He didn't even call his best friend by his first name! It would be weird and too intimate to call someone he had just met- To be in such friendly terms right way, it would be rude. "I'd rather-"

Bakura leaned closer. "Ba-ku-ra." A smirk played on his face and Ryou swallowed slowly, the reasons why the women were here not lost to him either. There had been a time when he hadn't been comfortable with his attraction to other men but he had grown out of that discomfort.

"A-alright… Bakura." The other seemed pleased, removing himself from Ryou's space, about which he was thankful for. Ryou thought that maybe the mention about Bakura's weirdness wasn't just to keep the man's ego safe. There was a strange feeling he couldn't place, one that made his heart race and blood turn cold at the same time, but he pushed it aside for now, perhaps to regret doing that later. Ryou let himself relax but it was short lived when Bakura opened his mouth again, shattering the somewhat good image Ryou had of him.

"Would you like to come back to My atelier and let Me do you?"

It took Ryou a short while to understand what had been said but when his brain had processed it, a yell came out before he could even realize it. "Wha- Excuse me?!" Gone was his timid voice; the whole room heard that loud and clear, heads turning to stare. "Just what's that supposed to mean?"

Bakura looked at him, clam as ever, a slow grin forming. "What do you think?"

Ryou gapped, trying to form words that refused to come. "Wha- I would never- You-" Just who the hell did this man think he was?

The other chuckled at his reaction, fueling Ryou's anger that had formed out of his initial shock. "Oh, stop overreacting. I wasn't really expecting you to agree."

"Don't kid about things like that!" Ryou shouted, for once not caring that people stared at him.

Bakura's eyes flashed and a certain amount of mischief crept into his grin. "I wasn't kidding."

Ryou's face grew red out of embarrassment and anger, fingers clenching and unclenching. "Well, that was most inappropriate, Mr. Mikazuki." He hadn't felt this angry and showed it in a long time. The anger was refreshing. "You might be talented in your area but you obviously have no manners."

While Ryou huffed and puffed, Bakura was like the brick house that refused to be blown in, never loosing the amused expression. "You think I'm talented?"

"What?" Confusion took over anger for a second. "Yes, but…" Ryou didn't know how to react anymore, and when Bakura placed his hand on the back of his neck and began leading him away, he didn't protest.

"If you liked that one, there's something else you must see."

"Oh…" Ryou registered the touch and glared some. "Would you let go of me?" The hold wasn't painful but tight enough to keep him there if Bakura wanted him to.

"No."

Ryou decided against any further yelling or glaring, taking a deep breath. Once he was almost calm again, he noticed over a half of the people there staring at them. The expressions varied from disbelief to envy as his gaze pounced from one side of the room to the other.

"Um, Mr. Mika- uh, Bakura, people are staring…"

Bakura glanced around, grinning at their audience, raising his glass. "Ladies. Privacy, please." Some blushed or giggled, one by one turning to look somewhere else. Light caught on a strange ring on Bakura's right hand's middle finger during the hand movement. The short glance Ryou got of it before Bakura moved his hand again showed small points hanging on it, which seemed like a weird feature for a ring.

"You have an interesting ring," Ryou commented.

"It's a family heirloom of sorts." No further information was given and they stopped in front of a painting of a woman on whose arms lay a dead child, a gapping hole in his skull. Ryou studied the image, not sure if he liked it or if it had anything to do with the first painting.

"Are… are all your paintings like this?" Ryou asked, not turning away from the picture yet. It was disturbing yet interesting, and he was sure there was something he was supposed to realize. "So dark, I mean."

"Pretty much," Bakura told. "One needs an outlet, right?"

Ryou glanced at the other and saw a small smirk twisting the corner of his mouth upwards, like urging him to ask more questions. Ryou did wonder what he meant but just smiled and nodded. "I suppose."

"Mikazuki, I thought you were supposed to show me around and not hit on some boy," a cold voice called and Bakura's eyes lit up. He let go of Ryou, turning to his guest.

"Seto you're late," Bakura scolded but had this playful gleam n his eyes. Ryou wondered if they were friends as he listened them banter back and forth before something clicked in his brain.

"Seto… Kaiba Seto?"

A set of eyes turned to him. Maybe he shouldn't have said that out loud.

"Yes." After the short answer the man turned back to Bakura. Ryou figured he wasn't important enough to hold the attention of the Kaiba Seto for long so he decided to get going, seeing this as a perfect excuse to leave without rudely walking out on anyone.

"Um, I'll just leave you two to talk…"

Bakura seemed to notice him again. "No, Ryou don't go yet." He protested but Ryou had already backed away and only gave a small smile.

"I really have to be going, it's late."

"You haven't seen all My work yet."

Ryou frowned, backing away faster, his plan of making a polite exit foiled. "Seriously, I'm going." Why was this guy so persistent? He turned and almost ran out, convinced that he would never have to see Bakura again. Some part of him wanted to, even if just to understand the deal with the painting, but he pushed it away, a yawn escaping him now when he could relax. Sleep would be great.

What did a woman with a dead baby and a moon have in common though? Ryou hit his forehead, attempting the abuse all thoughts about anything even distantly related to Mikazuki Bakura out of his head. It didn't work as well as he would have liked.

Bakura clued his stare on Ryou's retreating form until he could no longer see it and glanced at his self portrait, a smirk forming and a bit of a scheming glint danced in his eyes colored red by the fluorescent lights. Of course, there was no connection between Shattered Crescent and Dark Necrophilia. Had his new company not spoken up, Bakura would have forgotten his presence all together.

"Leave the poor boy alone, Mikazuki. He probably doesn't need you to fuck up his life."

Bakura looked up at Kaiba, who had fixed his eyes on him, and grinned. "I'm not going to fuck up anything, just sort of… spice it up." Though it was unlikely he would ever meet this Bakura Ryou again. He had failed to ask for the phone number and home address of this particular piece of eye-candy.

Kaiba raised a brow. "I stand behind my previous words seeing how your idea of 'spicing things up' is warped at best," he deadpanned. "But I'm not here to chit-chat about your," a meaningful pause, "love life."

Bakura chuckled, not pleased with the change of subject but letting it pass; he could always ponder about this in his free time. "Well, things are going smoothly as you can see even though some of the helpers made Me want to scream bloody murder." He snickered at his choice of words but Kaiba didn't react to it, having gotten used to Bakura laughing at random intervals for no apparent reason.

"Which you of course did."

The grin morphed into an unpleasant smile. "Naturally."

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