Le soleil
Chapter 4
Sometimes Ryou really did hate Bakura, but it was a fleeting sentiment, like a brief breeze over naked flesh, when the chill shudders through the form and then is gone. But for those moments Ryou truly, unforgivably, hated the Ghost of the Ring. He couldn't say he really cared for these moments but they were difficult to prevent, like the shudder of a cat walking over your grave. Inevitable and uncontrollable, Ryou dealt with it and let it pass, for surely it would, fade back into the strange affection he held for the other.
Bakura called it pity with a curl of his lip and fingers that contorted into stiff claws.
Ryou tried his best to smile and ignore the way the thief cursed his back in a whisper that could be mistaken for a lovers if it hadn't been so laced with malice and disgust.
Ryou wondered idly how Bakura defined love precisely, because in his opinion it was awfully presumptuous for the ghost to declare himself in love with Ryou while also wishing him to break inside, like the locks of ancient tombs once had under the Tomb Robber's practiced hands.
The Lovers certainly did not act as a suitable representation of them and Ryou stared at the card with an emotion akin to regret, or something more elusive. He didn't know what they were but it certainly was not the Lovers. He didn't care to delve too deeply into the possibilities that lay in these cards, their meaning often too realistic and often disturbing when it came to himself and his other.
He tossed the card from a pale hand, let it join the others on his small coffee table, a mess of rectangular pieces of little potential futures. He would have to tidy that all up later, before Bakura decided to get his hands on them. Unlike him the thief seemed to enjoy laughing at the dark things the cards often implied, a sadistic thrill passing through him that even Ryou could feel locked away in his soul room.
And he wasn't sure what upset him more, the impossibility for a happy ending or his own secret excitement he got when the Thief was so close to getting his way.
No one knew how to gloat with such unrestrained rapture as the Ring spirit did. Ryou would admit that is was...quite a fascinating show and the feelings that leaked through the link were, much to his silly sense of embarrassment, a lot like a narcotic.
Not that he knew what that felt like of course. He was just...hypothesizing...
The British native sighed and ran a pale hand through his hair, collapsing back onto the couch. He would have to speak with Yami soon and the notion did not sound particularly exciting. In fact, he was dreading it, the thought of calling him, walking over to the game shop...both made his stomach twist with nervousness. But he would have to tell him what his decision was. He would have to tell him what he wanted to do about Bakura. An expression of anxiety crossed his features as he commenced a rather intense game of staring down his television screen.
It was slightly perturbing to see his own face twisted in such a way however and he soon gave up and lost by forfeit, giving the aforementioned television a much needed sense of superiority over the stereo, who was used with far more frequency.
Ryou meanwhile bit his lip and stood, taking instead to pacing the room trying to build up nerve. He could freely admit his nerves had been on trial for the past few days, with him trying to figure out what to do, what he'd tell Yami and when he'd do so (he had only 9 days left now), and then there was the perpetual stress of trying to keep everything hidden from his yami.
He continued this wearing of the carpet for approximately three more minutes until he finally stopped dead in his tracks, taking a deep breath. Gritting his teeth he strode over to the phone and jerked it rather clumsily from it's hook, dialing the number quickly and closing his eyes when he heard the other end ring.
Once.
Twice.
Thr- "Hello, Kame Game Shop, how can I help you?"
Ryou opened his eyes and smiled as if Yuugi were right in front of him. "Yuugi," he said. "This is Ryou. I was wondering...could I speak with Yami?"
A rustling, as if the other were shifting the phone in his hand and a second later Ryou heard Yami's voice, deep and confident, come through the receiver.
"Ryou, this is Yami. How are you?"
Ryou looked at the wall, arching an eyebrow. Of course the other knew why he had called, why pretend this was a social call?
"I'm well," he replied, not bothering to return the question. He cleared his throat once before casting his eyes to the floor. "Yami...I have made my decision."
Yami said nothing and Ryou bit his lip, ready to make his stand, ready to show he wasn't just Ryou Bakura, quiet and polite, although he was those things too but he had to show them he was more! And so he was rather proud of himself when his voice sounded steady and strong, sure of himself and unwilling to have his mind changed regardless of what the other thought.
"I will go through with it," he said. "I want Bakura out, I want him gone."
x
Once upon a time there was a little boy and he was a very happy child. He lived with his mother and father in a small village along a branch of the Nile river and he knew everyone and everyone knew him.
The people there lived a comfortable existence, forgotten by the Pharaoh, ignored by the politics of the kingdom, they lived for themselves and each other in a relative peace. So what if they occasionally stole from caravans, if they sometimes dabbled in thievery to pay for cloth and food? Their numbers were small, their needs little, and occasionally all they needed was a little help making it through the dry seasons or the bitter cold of desert winters.
The little boy saw nothing wrong with the way his people survived and he lived in a near Utopia with his mother and father and fellow villagers until, when he was still very young, demons invaded his home and burned it all. He watched in fear as he saw his parents butchered, his friends murdered, his livelihood go up in smoke and fire, the acrid smell of metal and meat the incense of a hellish night.
Yet somehow he was spared, he was the one hundred and first.
The saved.
The forsaken.
And he was alone.
Somehow, somehow this is the most tragic part of our tale, his solitude, his isolation. Scarred and shocked, full of despair and heartache, once upon a time there was a little boy who wished he could drown himself in his own tears, in a desert that offered only cruel truths, and whispered only the last words of ghosts.
Truly a hopeless future for the young boy, who could barely be called old enough to fend for himself. He would easily die in the desert from starvation, infection, sickness. Any number of things really and there was really nobody around who would or could help him. He was haunted, he was cursed, he was forgotten for all who had known him were now dead, burned, nothing left.
But I'll tell you a secret, about this boy who had no hope, had no desire to go on, and who lost everything in a night of devils and death.
He lived.
x
Bakura laughed at the walls of his soul room, the noise rising in pitch and frenzy until the sound was hysterical, bouncing off the walls, a cacophony of madness. It wasn't until he was on the floor, gasping for breath he didn't need and choking on his own sniggers that he knew, he knew if he didn't keep laughing he'd wouldn't be able to stop the tears.
x
Yami leaned against the edge of the counter, looking between Jou and Anzu. Honda hadn't been able to come when he'd called them all together, work holding him up from leaving too early but Yami hadn't been willing to wait to tell the others and had asked them both to come to the shop as soon as they could. He'd let Jou fill Honda in later.
"He said yes, that's great!" Jou said, the blond bristling with enthusiasm. Between he and the Ring spirit there was no love lost.
Anzu shifted her position, sitting on top the counter beside Yami. "It will be nice when everything is normal again." She breathed out a whoosh of air, her hands playing with a few loose threads on the pocket of her jeans. "No one trying to kill you, Yami. No one using us against you." She shuddered and the game king suspected she was recalling memories of Kaiba's Battle City blimp, of the way Malik Ishtar had used her.
And speaking of the Egyptian...
The bell of the game shop jingled a merry little melody, Yuugi had helped his Grandfather pick it out and it fit the cheerful aura of the shop and it's owner. Both Jou and Anzu looked over to see who is was, if Yami would be pulled away to deal with a customer, if maybe Honda had made it after all. Yami knew it was neither. There had been one more phone call he had made after his three friends and the other had been surprisingly accommodating on the phone. He suspected it had been his sister's influence.
Malik Ishtar stood in the doorway, looking the same as he had after the end of Battle City though his attire had changed from the purple belly shirt to something a little more...conservative, a simple dark blue long sleeve, maybe a little tight, and khakis. Malik smiled and looked at the three of them, two looking shocked and one appearing as he always had. Confident, fearless, royal.
"So..." he said, tone light hearted and amiable. "Long time no see, gang."
x
A.N. Oh look...I brought in Malik (and Marik). Erm...they are also favored characters, besides Ryou and Bakura. Haaaa, I have a thing for villains.