What remains of freedom, chapter two

AN:

Many thanks for the reviews!

Chapter title is what Hong Kong subs occasionally call the BEWD in the episode during which this takes place. The next chapter will have a title that makes more sense (nod).

I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, or any of its characters

/AN

Green-eyed white dragon

She remained where she was as he stood up and walked over to the bureau on the other side of the room, and continued to stare at the spot he had left, or, rather, at the young mortal who was still sitting there. She couldn't see Ryou's eyes, hidden as they were by the long hair; only the way his fingers were, very slightly, clenching and relaxing around the bed sheets could be an indication he was possibly nervous – until it was only that, a nervous gesture of habit.

"First," Bakura said, turning away from where he was standing, and leaned over the bureau. "Tell me when you first – reappeared, were conscious of yourself. You can't have been all the time," he added, as her eyes widened at that.

"How do you know?"

"You've come to me because of my knowledge. I'd assume you expected me to actually have it..."

Ryou seemed to tense, his hand reached up to the ring.

"... could you think, feel, walk, back there, right after your death?"

She slowly shook her head.

"I..." She couldn't remember! "I had moments of consciousness, but never – nothing like this. Nothing but consciousness."

Bakura nodded.

"And then?"

The answer appeared very clearly. Of course she knew. Of course, it was obvious.

"When Seto first called the blue eyes ultimate dragon," she murmured.

When they'd first been merged together...

Bakura, who'd been staring at her intensely through his long bangs, leaned backwards with a smile.

"I see," he murmured.

He seemed amused, for some reason, and she briefly looked at Ryou again, as if hoping to get help from him, but the boy was staring straight in front of himself and didn't seem to notice.

In a way, she was connected to all those three dragons – it had taken that much to call her back from death.

Four dragons, a treacherous voice in her mind murmured. Four, not three.

For many days of her monotonous existence, she had wondered about the meaning of that fourth dragon, so much more now that he was destroyed. What could, did it mean?

Because she knew of the meaning of the other three: the first one was, always was her, her very soul, the finally awoken splendid beast she had given to him; the second one was created from the pharaoh's priest's heart to match her force after both of their acceptance; the third one was born to the will of the man whose stolen name still pained her whenever it appeared in her thoughts, with a sort of horrified fascination.

Those were the three he could merge to one, her, the priest and him, who was the priest and was not, reminded of him in every gesture, and yet fiercely refused this heritage.

What had the forth one been? Seto's future, a third person to be bound to them...

... a promise for her own future?

Or some perverted game, a lunatic idea created by Maximilian Pegasus?

Seto Kaiba had ripped the card apart with his own hands: had taken the card he loved most, he'd longed for for so long, and had destroyed it. There had been no hesitation, no temptation to keep it save and locked away under glass... He'd kept the three dragon he would keep for his fights, and had destroyed the forth one.

And she would never know.

She brushed the thought aside, feeling it was dangerous to let herself go like this in front of the thief, even if only in thoughts...

"Why?" she asked.

Bakura shook his head, as if he had asked the question for no particular reason, and it actually was unimportant, and went on:

"You know that the pharaoh is about to regain his memory?"

She nodded: if she had to be sincere, this realisation had been what had brought her to come see him in the first place, the sudden realisation that it might all be over, somehow. She had no hope to be freed from her ghost-existence, and she had no particular bound to the former pharaoh – but he still was what kept all of them linked together: she and Bakura were just escapees, some lose ends in the greater scheme of things, and once he was gone – and that was what it all was about – they would have no reason left to exist as they did. Bakura might manage to continue anyway – but she...

It felt as if this would be her last chance, before everything fell into place, or apart, and Seto Kaiba could definitely move on and forget his previous life and his fights with the spirit.

"The keeper revealed the last secret he needed," she added, "and the pharaoh will enter the world of his own memory."

Bakura nodded, didn't seem surprised she knew that much. Seto had left before the secret had been revealed, and she had never seen the marks on the keepers back; but it was no mystery that the pharaoh was fighting to find this memory only Malik could give to him.

"Yes... But it's not that simple. If he was the only survivor, it would be, but – this is my memory as well."

"What do you mean?"

"The pharaoh and I will enter the world of our memory – to finish the fight we have started."

"But..." She paused, to think, and figure out which one of the many questions she should ask first. "You have your memory."

She had the feeling it was the right remark, because Bakura didn't answer right away; he seemed to be the one wondering what exactly he should tell her now.

"You should talk to Yugi."

Both of them had already almost forgotten they weren't alone, and they looked at Ryou who'd spoken that last sentence; the empty stare was gone from his eyes, his gaze focused again, and his voice firm.

"No..." Kisara murmured.

Ryou gave her a surprised glance, before smiling lightly, as if bemused by her reaction.

"I doubt the pharaoh would be of much help here," Bakura snapped.

"Not him. Yugi."

He was still looking at Kisara, pleadingly now, and she felt guilty for not complying right away.

"He can't see me."

"I can."

"But that's..."

She looked at Bakura, who was fixing Ryou with an expression she couldn't read. He might have been lying, of course.

"We don't know," Ryou said calmly, as if Bakura wasn't even here. "It's worth a try."

Bakura folded his arms.

"You're free to go run to the pharaoh, but my help offer becomes void if you do."

There had been a positive help offer then? She couldn't remember him saying so. Only that it might be possible.

Maybe Ryou was right: maybe she should contact the pharaoh, tell him what Bakura had just said, or just forget about it, and go back the Seto and the dragon cards so the mist in front of her inexistent eyes would vanish, and let things pass...

"You haven't offered anything," she reminded him, softly.

"Ah – and I won't offer to grant you anything. But I'm offering you a bargain."

She glanced at Ryou: the boy was silent now, so that she briefly wondered if Bakura had put a spell on him, but was staring at her, fearful now.

She shook her head slowly. It was a strangely painful gesture. Three thousand years ago, she had also refused, and back then, at least she had known why: she couldn't betray Seto. But this was only a fight against the pharaoh, and...

... and it wasn't, had never been. Bakura revenge extended further than that, to all Egypt, and more...

"You might want to listen to me. You can still refuse."

"I have nothing to offer," she said.

Bakura smiled again, creepily.

"You would think so, or you wouldn't be here."

She tensed. His eyes seemed human all the sudden, and not the least bit less frightening than before, and she was reminded of the way he had looked at her back in Egypt, like he wanted something, and she'd never been able to figure out what, and she never would, because even if she got an answer from him, this was not Bakura – not the same. She should not let the parallelism of the situation get her.

"What do you want?"

He leaned back against the bureau.

"You were wrong earlier. I don't have all of my past memories any more than the pharaoh. Or, Seto."

Her eyes widened.

"How is that possible? You can..."

"I can remember you, of course, and some of the past events of the first fight." Again, his eyes seemed to glitter darkly. "After all I – " He interrupted himself, briefly glanced at Ryou. "We have built the setting for the second one. It's only fair we get a head start."

(Ryou had his arms crossed over his chest. His lips were trembling.)

"Why," she began, with the first question that crossed her mind immediately. "Why do you need a second fight?"

She was frightened by the way, even though he didn't move, everything around them seemed to darken.

"Not what I meant. There won't be a second fight. Just – the ending of this one."

She looked him straight into the eyes. Suddenly she knew with certitude he had not been lying: he couldn't remember.

"How would you know?"

Bakura smiled.

"We're both still alive, aren't we?"

She shivered. She had often wondered what he brought him to take revenge on the young pharaoh, who was so completely innocent in the murder of his family and the other inhabitants of his village, and it seemed simple all the sudden, a strange form of justice, no matter what he said. Their victims had been innocent as well.

And, as cruel as that might sound – they'd be dead by now anyway. (As would she, and now she was still, almost alive, to still be on his side, so it had been a good ending after all, it was.)

"Then why not keep it at that?" she asked softly.

Bakura just stared at her.

Then he closed his eyes.

She couldn't figure out what he could possibly be thinking.

"I would like to have a word with my host." Bakura's voice again, cold, emotionless. "Would you excuse us for a moment?"

Kisara threw a glance at Ryou, but the boy was looking at Bakura, intensely, eyes faintly narrowed, not afraid anymore, and again, there she had the feeling there was a silent communication passing between the two of them.

Only now, it occurred to her that the ancient thief possibly had no way of actually getting away from her – or, rather, she thought he probably had. His host, who was bound to his physical form, did not.

Bakura, however, didn't wait for a reaction from her, but walked back over to the bed, eyes still locked with Ryou's, and she choose to step away, through the door to the living room, and then further away, to what appeared to be the kitchen, and turned to the window. She was intruding something intimate she had no business in, whatever it was.

The kitchen was even cleaner than the other rooms had been. On the small table, dishes were already ready, prepared for breakfast, and it made her head spin, this display of simple everyday-life.

It had been stupid to even think of talking him out of whatever he was doing, but it had seemed like the only possible thing she could do. Because he was dark and evil and deeply wounded, and she was pure – had been, at least – and good and light and loved him, and it was evident that she'd want to save and convert and help him, had she done nothing in all those years of almost-life than collecting clichés and playing contrary to Seto Kaiba?

Only when she heard Bakura call her, she went back inside; she looked around confused. Bakura was gone. Ryou was still sitting on the bed, his head bowed.

"Bakura?"

First time she said his name, except the one time, and then, she'd meant Ryou; the latter raised his head, and she almost screamed out: dark glistering eyes, wild hair, and a very amused smirk.

"What did you do to him?"

Bakura laughed at that and stood up. She caught herself before she stepped back. Still the same, no scar, no tan, and yet, not Ryou, and she couldn't explain the change. She'd never seen it before, as far as she knew, but there was no way to tell.

"Nothing." He shook his head, walked back over to the bureau. "Don't be stupid. He's the last person you need to be afraid for."

She didn't answer, but she was feeling cold, all the sudden. She'd been thinking, until now, that she was being dragged into whatever fight was going to carry on by her own fault, if at all, and she realised briskly that this wasn't the case. The first battle had affected all Egypt as well.

"All right." Bakura's went on, voice recollected, neutral. "As I said, I do not have all of my memories. However – you have not been sealed away. You can still remember everything. I want your memories, all you have seen or heard, all I have told you. In exchange – I will let you see Seto Kaiba."

"No," she said.

She couldn't tell why she was refusing so straight away. The evident answer would be that she shouldn't, no matter what, give him another advantage over the pharaoh, as poorly inclined she was to take the latter's side (without even knowing who he was, he had saved Seto's soul – but he had done so by shattering it, and she was endlessly grateful but could feel no affection toward him). But maybe it was pride: it didn't feel right that he would bargain her with a meeting with Seto Kaiba. The thief wouldn't have done that.

Bakura studied her face for a moment, before he continued, as if she hadn't said anything.

"The fight between me and the pharaoh will start as soon as he holds the three god cards to a stone panel that the Ishtars will show him in Egypt; it will open the door to – the game that we will use to complete our fight. Do you know how a modern role playing game works?"

She silently shook her head. She didn't think she wanted, should know either, but she didn't leave.

"Doesn't matter. It's quite simple. We will have a game board – a setting of ancient Egypt, as we know it, actually, but that's not of much relevance. Each player will have a certain amount of characters he can control. One of which, on his side, will be the nameless pharaoh. One of which will be the thief king Bakura."

"Seto," she said, despite of herself.

"One of which will be the high priest, obviously, but that, too, is not important now – you shouldn't worry. It won't be him. Just a game piece that looks like him.

I can introduce another player inside the game, if you wish me to do so. Or two of them."

"You would put Seto Kaiba inside that game." Her eyes narrowed, something he had maybe never seen her do. "You won't control him."

Bakura impatiently shook his head.

"No – of course not. I can introduce him as a non-player-character. He won't be controlled by anyone but himself. Just as yourself would be."

She didn't answer right away when he explained. A game setting, a game-world that would mirror their own game. Where the thief himself would b – but she shouldn't think of that. Nothing there would be real, except for Seto Kaiba, and Bakura's and the pharaoh's spirit in everything else.

"How can you guaranty me that he won't be in danger?"

She was certain that she had wasted her time when at that, Bakura raised his eyebrows, surprised at that question. She would have thought evident that he knew she would never –

"I'm afraid I can't do that, right now. I can, however, guaranty you he will most certainly not be in more danger than he would be in any case – and that much, I promise." He smirked. "I'm just giving him a chance to actually do something. If I win, it will make no difference in which world he is..." There was a dark mist in the room again, and the ring was glowing. She felt sick, even though she was positively sure that had to be impossible. " This might be your very last chance, Kisara."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why would you let another opponent enter your game?"

Bakura looked mildly surprised.

"Seto Kaiba is no opponent of mine."

"You think he's egoistic. You think he won't fight you when he finds himself inside your game world."

"He won't even want to believe anything of it is real," Bakura said with a shrug. "What about this, Kisara – I offer you a bet, instead of a bargain; or a shadow game, if you will, over his decision. I will let both of you enter the game world and meet there. If you can convince him to listen to you, to choose your side, to care even the slightest bit – then I won't demand anything on return. Else, you will give me your memories. Sounds fair?"

She pressed her lips together.

"Do you remember Kuru Eruna?" she suddenly asked.

His face didn't change.

"Tell me if you agree. I've lost enough time with this – I can win without your memories."

"What if I do? If I agree – what will you do to him?"

"To him?" Bakura laughed. "You don't have to worry about that. Shadow games have rules – when I promise to do whatever I can to let you meet him, this is a binding contract. And I'm not doing anything against Seto Kaiba. He's of no interest whatsoever for me in this life."

"Answer me."

"It's as I said – I won't do anything to destroy him, and I will have to let you meet, if he chooses to enter – that's part of the game. The rest is up to you, though. You'll have to get him to come to the stone panel in Egypt. If he does, I'll have him dragged into the game. Else..." He shrugged. "You lose nothing. Well?"

Her hearth sank. Of course, Seto would never even go to Egypt. You'll have to get him to come...

"I – what? You know I –"

"He has had visions of you, hasn't he?"

"Yes." She paused. "How do you know of that?"

He ignored her question.

"So you still have power over him."

There was something wrong in this phrasing. She didn't have power over Seto Kaiba.

"It wasn't me. They didn't have anything to do with me."

"You were there, were you not?"

"Yes, but –"

"And you saw the visions?"

"Yes." She glared at him. "But from the outside. From – I had no power over them at all."

"You didn't try. I am sure, your presence, and a millennium item as a catalyst would easily be enough to have him get another vision."

"A – "

She stopped as, in answer to the question she was about to ask, he proceeded a small golden orb from the drawer of the bureau, and fury ran through her non-existent body, before she even stopped to wonder how he had gotten hold of it, and what it might mean. Pegasus.

Bakura smiled at her, holding the millennium eye between his fingers. The light from the streetlights reflected faintly on the golden surface, making the polished side gleam.

"I shall give this to Kaiba. If he chooses to keep it – I will do my best to have him do so, to have him think of searching for you – you will be able to trigger its power to have him become aware of you, even so little. The rest is then up to you."

He paused.

"But that's details, trust me. Do you want me to try?"

She closed her eyes.

"Yes," she said, and looked back up. "But it won't work."

He smiled.

"Have a little faith."

She shuddered.

Revenge, the thief had told her three thousand years ago, revenge, sweet and trilling and – because stolen, not justice, but she wondered if the one who was facing her now even wanted that much, if he was motivated by anything but desire to destroy, and if really he had forgotten his own village!...

"Show me where Mokuba is," he demanded in a whisper.

It had rained in the meanwhile. When she had left it, she had thought that the high tower had something sinister in this darkness, but now she decided that it also had something beautiful, streams of water still running down its black windows; and the KC sign had never looked as reassuringly familiar.

"Mokuba. Why?"

"Because I need a bait for Kaiba. What did you think?" he added, when he saw Kisara's shocked face. "That I'd just walk up to Kaiba and politely ask him to listen to what I have to tell him? Don't be ridiculous."

"I won't let you near Mokuba," Kisara said blankly, as if surprised he could even have thought such a thing.

"You sound a lot like my host sometimes," the thief said with a sigh. "Look, it's your choice. Don't think I'd not be able to get the boy anyway. But I'm doing this for you."

"No," Kisara repeated, in the same bemused tone. "You failed once," she added, with more force.

"Pity," Bakura murmured, covering her with his glance. "Don't worry about it. Things have changed. I'd hate to lose my current host, now."

"You said you would ask for a duel."

"You don't think Seto Kaiba accepts every single challenge?"

Kisara looked up at the high building in front of them; she knew it by heart, and she could enter every most secured room if she wished to; and it belonged to someone to whom she was connected closer than to anyone else before and later. And yet, once again, she felt small in front of it, as if the heavy betony meant to crush her underneath. She shook her head.

"Fine," Bakura snarled after a moment. "I will find him without help then."

She straightened up, moved as if she could actually stop him, and there was something of the dragon in her attitude, something that did make him stop for a moment.

"You – "

"It is too late to bargain out of this now, dragon-girl."

He moved ahead, almost walked right through her.

She didn't move. She looked after him, without moving, knowing that it would be no use, but this rational realisation didn't keep away the doubt, the rising guilt: what if she could – too late, Bakura had already disappeared – could have done more, realised sooner what he would do... Mokuba who was the one who had, in this life, replaced her – and his country. And his pharaoh. More than she had ever done; could ever have done - yet in this life, she, too, owed Mokuba more than anyone else: he was one who had awoken the dragon his His heart in this time – and through this, was maybe responsible for the incomplete resurrection she went through, allowing him to create the three headed dragon...

If she had put Mokuba into danger she could never forgive herself – but she couldn't stop Bakura.

She turned back towards the building. The darkness had vanished, her sigh restored now that she was back closer to him. Of course, he was still working. Even though it was close to the morning already. She would find him.

In the anime, when Kaiba calls his ultimate blue eyes white dragon in the memory world, there's one light-ray coming from Kisara, one from priest Seto, and Kaiba is the one joining them, suggesting that while the first one resides in her, the second one is Seto's and the third one might be Kaiba's.

Uhm. I hope Kisara doesn't come across as too dorkish in the last part. And otherwise. I think she might be a little sappy...

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