To Capture Her Spirit

By:

Setalina Muro

Summary: For his entire existence, the Thief King had sought to kill the Pharaoh. Now, seeking revenge, he kidnaps Kawai Shizuka and falls in love with her, plunging himself into ancient memories about a woman he lost three millennia ago… BxSxK TBxKxPS

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or any places, people and/or other things you are familiar with from the show or anything else. The plot, however, is mine.

Warning: Cutting, swearing, and drinking. You have been warned.

A/N: So, this should have been up weeks ago, but my mother had limited me to computer time once a week, unless I beg. (Dies)

At any rate, I'm working on the next chapter. Of everything. (Sigh) There's a lot I'm working on, but still, no time to type. Not a long note here.


Chapter Three

The Cut Runs Deep


The warm tune of a song drifted around the empty warehouse occasionally accompanied by the faint sound of pages turning. A chortle of laughter would sometimes join the soft murmur of the voice as it read aloud.

Bakura's voice had an ethereal quality to it when he read and Shizuka enjoyed listening to it. She sat with her legs tucked up beneath her on the couch, occasionally glancing up from the soft pastels of the drawing on her lap. Leaning casually on the floor, enveloped in a large blue bean bag chair, sat Bakura, his fingers curled around the edges of a book from which he read.

"'Look here,' whined the woman, 'I ain't selling him. Not for no shilling, like the lady offered.'

I looked pleadingly at the young man, who smiled as he dismounted and said: 'Here's two shillings for the dog.'

The woman could not hide her delight. She held out a dirty hand for the money which, with a fastidious gesture, he dropped into her palm. Then he took the rope from her.

'Thank you, oh, thank you,' I cried. I was drawn toward him because I knew he cared as much about the dog's fate as I did. I was torn between two desires: I wanted to learn more about the young man, and at the same time I wanted to take the dog home and feed him…" (Au1)

With that, Bakura paused, rubbing his eyes. He looked as if a headache was forming, something that happened often if he read for too long. He finished the paragraph and moved to stand up, stretching broadly as he did so. "I guess that's enough for now. My head is starting to hurt."

Shizuka smiled, finishing one stroke on her drawing and closing the tablet. "I'm done, too. It's a good story, Bakura-san."

He nodded and absently walked off, setting the book down and moving away. After a moment, Bakura paused and looked back at her.

"What are you always drawing while I read?" he asked.

"What I see," she answered, running her fingers gently against the edges of the book.

He shook his head as he turned again, moving toward his room. "Whatever."

It was one of the things he had grown used to over the time she had been there with him. She smiled and laughed and yet she remained completely distant. He knew she liked to hear him read and he knew she enjoyed painting, but he also knew she was far from happy. He looked back at her as she sat on the couch, staring at the window. The light glimmered in her hair and her terribly sad eyes. Sighing, he entered his room.

Shizuka watched carefully from the corner of her eye as Bakura left before she stood up and moved toward her own room. She resented everything about this place, especially the year and a half she was forced to be there for. He tried to make her happy, he really did, sometimes going out of his way to do so.

But she was bored; bored with Bakura, with missing her brother and friends. Bored with knowing she was a prisoner here, even though he no longer treated her as such. She was tired and she was going to escape.

For some reason, it didn't matter how much Bakura had changed, for he had. There were no more advances, no mention of his lust, a cutback in alcohol even. There were times when Shizuka felt kindly toward him, something more than tolerance, but he was always watching her; his crimson-brown orbs constantly focused on her. She had to leave. She had to get away, though a way how to frequently elude her. Most of all, she had to start planning now.

Bakura was in his room, or at least that was the direction he had headed. There were times when he went into his room, the doorway covered by a tapestry, and Shizuka didn't see him for several hours. Whether he sat there or left, she never knew and there was now necessity she find out. (Au2)

Shizuka crept from her room, silently moving across the floor. The 'living quarter' was empty as was the kitchen. Reaching the drapery across the doorframe, she held her breath and pushed it to the side, peering in cautiously.

Bakura was there.

She pulled back, praying desperately that he had not seen her and that he could not hear the rapid pounding of her heart. No one came and the room was quiet. She chanced another glance.

He was sitting cross-legged on the cold floor, a straw mat beneath him. His eyes were closed and his hands rested on his knees.

It struck Shizuka as some bizarre ritual. She took in the candles surrounding him as well as the closed redwood box at his feet. Tendrils of silver smoke danced around his motionless form.

Shizuka was awed as her eyes drifted from the setup to Bakura himself. He wore no shirt and his lean body looked both strong and starved, for he was not well muscled and his ribs were easily identified. Her eyes drifted to a scar marring the otherwise attractive body across the left side of his chest.

It was then she took note of the Sennen Ring in his hands. It glimmered, whether from the light of the candles or a device of its own, Shizuka didn't know or cared to ponder, and the harsh glare danced evilly as if pleased with the practice.

She flinched back as his eyes opened, but the dark orbs were unfocused and distant. He laid the Ring aside and reached for the box. His hands groped and caressed the lid as though he were blind. He stared straight ahead, not blinking and barely breathing.

Only when the hinges of the box creaked open did Bakura look down. Still no sign of concisions came from him and from the box he brought forth a glistening silver dagger. It looked ancient, the handle made of a darkly shaded wood traced with intricate designs and words. The blade, edges wavy as it moved up to the tip, glinted dangerously in the candlelight, but the tip was dark and as Bakura held it over a flame, Shizuka realized it was covered in blood. (Au3)

Her knees gave way below her and she sank to the ground, clutching the edge of the door frame. The ritual, whatever the purpose now frightened her.

When the blood had collected amongst trails of white wax, Bakura pulled it away, the blade now emanating heat from the flame. Shizuka's eyes widened as he directed the tip toward himself. It hovered across the left side of his chest, straight for his heart. A dry sob came from her throat and she covered her mouth quickly, eyes brimming with tears.

The destination of the dagger, however, was not to pierce his heart. Instead, it found its way to the first point of the fading scar and he began to retrace it, constantly reheating the blade and forcing it through the rough skin until it bled anew.

Soon, it was finished. Crimson blood dripped down his front as Bakura stood and moved toward the mirror on the wall. A tremor of pain shot through him as he began to wipe it off. The trance, if his stupor could be called such, was broken, and the pain returned life to his crimson brown orbs. Full consciousness came a moment later and his brow furrowed as he looked toward the entrance. The knowledge of another presence was gone, vanished like a breath of wind.

Bakura turned back to the mirror, examining his handiwork, still oozing plasma. Perhaps it was superstitious nonsense, but in the time Bakura had grown up in, blood was always needed to finish a magical ritual properly. This particular act had once been vaguely mentioned by his grandmother when he was very young and he had retained it somehow and it surfaced a few months after Shizuka's arrival. It was not a spell, to a certain extent, but more so a wish for the wellbeing of unrequited love.

The ancient hieroglyphics were carved deeply into his pale skin. It was a single word surrounded by an intricate scrolling repeated several times. If the wish brought him nothing, at least there would always be something that tethered him to his time with her. How easily the word came from the symbols, dancing in his mind like wildfire.

Shizuka…

For a year and a half, he had maintained control of this body while she lingered there, allowing herself to enjoy nothing. The wish had been traced twice in this time as it began to fade. The first time he began to mar the skin, it occurred to him it was not truly his to mar, but there was no Pharaoh to cast him into the darkness again and the true possessor of the body, well…Bakura had found a more permanent darkness for his whining counterpart.

An escher had formed around the ring of intricate designs and Bakura pulled on a white cotton shirt, ignoring the spasm coming off the wound, before holding aside the tapestry and inspecting the area. His eyes scanned for Shizuka. She wasn't in the kitchen, cooking as she normally would be at this time. Instead she was in much the same position as he had left her in several hours ago: sitting on the couch gazing out the large windows. Her arms were wrapped around a bright green pillow and her eyes were wide and seemingly blank. She gnawed absently at her thumbnail.(Au4)

She started as he sat down beside her and touched her arm. Her gaze met his tentatively and the fearful, doe-eyes look there sent a small shiver down Bakura's spine. She had not looked like that since the night he had brought her here. Her face was pale and a red tinge hovered about her cheeks and puffy, watery eyes. She quivered as he swept back a strand of her auburn hair. "You've been crying," he said.

Shizuka pulled away from him, turning to wipe at her face with the back of her hand. "It's nothing," she whispered.

Bakura ran a finger under her chin and gently forced her gaze up to meet his own.

"You're lying to me," he stated bluntly. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, desperately avoiding his gaze, not trusting her eyes to not give her away. The honey brown orbs fell instead on his shirt, trailing across where she knew the cut to be. Bakura watched as her face paled further, optics widening as a faint green tinge crossed her face. A moment later, Shizuka collapsed against him.

Bakura looked down, attempting to find the source of her sudden ailment, when he caught sight of the blood slowly filtering through the fabric of his shirt. "Hellfire and damnation," he hissed, laying Shizuka across the couch as he stood up.

He went quickly to his room, peeling off the stained shirt as he went. Grabbing for white gauze, he began to bandage the cut. It was bleeding more freely now, the scab torn away, and Bakura's brow furrowed slightly. He had never needed to bind the laceration before. It clotted within a few minutes of the initial carving. Perhaps there was a problem…

No, and it didn't matter anyway. But Bakura was hungry and with Shizuka still unconscious, there was hardly a better time for him to try his hand at cooking.


To Be Continued…


Au 1: Small bit from a Reader's Digest Condensed Book I found at my grandmother's house. The selection is from 'Kirkland Revels' by Victoria Holt. A very good story.

Au 2: For those of you caught this story its original form, this particular scene was difficult to recreate. It sounds more logical now, I think. Please tell me.

Au 3: I will make a short reference here because it is driving me insane. The blade I mention is like the one in the Disney movie 'Aladdin', when Aladdin is dangling over the Cave of Wonders and Jafar is ready to stab him before Abu bites him. I say this, because I can't find nor figure out what a wavy-edged blade is called, and I want you to know what it supposed to look like.

Au 4: The word in this sentence, gnawed, almost ended up as 'masticate', meaning 'to chew'. Some friends and I were discussing disgusting words (such as 'goop' and 'cream') and one jumped up with masticate and we're like '…' then he was like 'it means chew' and we're like 'oh…that's gross. You win.' But it sounded out of place here. But it was a fun note.


A/N: M'kay. I do hope everyone enjoyed this. Sorry I didn't get it up sooner (my beta has mysteriously disappeared from her online slot, so I actually had to edit this…myself…XD…I don't do that often, so I hope this worked out okay.) As always, please R&R and feel free to tell me what you thought.

Lina