Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Insignificant ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: shiju333 
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.25.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 430 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.25.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.2K | Visits: 430 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer in first chapter.
Insignificant
XX
Accusatory chocolate brown eyes met serene mauve eyes complete with the owner s trademark triumphant grin. Yami smirked softly; he, the king of games and all of Egypt of days long ago, could handle the poor poor thief king, emotional problems included.
Needless to say, Bakura was pissed, seething raving pissed. His thick white eyebrows dipped further, contorting his semi-effeminate features. Two embarrassingly red splotches stood out in comparison to his pasty white skin. His mouth set in a firm scowl.
"Pardon me, Pharaoh," Bakura stated calmly, having regained a semblance of equilibrium. His features portrayed nothing short of absolute control. Of that, he was certain. Deception taught one a plethora of useful tricks.
Bakura raised his head slowly, brown orbs revealed a look of utter hatred. The wind, itself, seemed to halt in compliance as the tomb robber and lowly peasant of Ancient Egypt spoke.
"You and I have nothing to discuss," he stated with a note of finality. His verbiage was delivered so peacefully, a passerby would have instantly been caught in his web-like lie.
Yami's smirk made itself known once more, "Of course, Bakura," His smirk was rapidly becoming an all out mirthful grin, "Of course!"
With a touch of maniacal laughter that rivaled the other's, Atemu finished his mind-numbing speech, "Bullshit."
The wind started once more. The two ancient spirits stood proudly. Shoulders squared and jaws set, the two glared at the other. Tension hung thickly in the air.
Lightning flashed once more, the sky was streaked with purple. If either strained their ears, they would have heard a low rumbling of thunder in the distance.
A clap of thunder sounded and drops of rain fell from the heavens.
His stance reflected his internal nervousness as he stared at Yami's necklace. Really interesting, the Millenium items, mused Bakura mentally. While he, Bakura, possessed the Millennium Ring, the Pharaoh had acquired the infamous Millenium Puzzle.
The puzzle has a hallow core. It would be very easy for one to smash it into the bits of gold that Yami had possessed once long ago. Yes, mused Bakura silently, before remembering where exactly he was.
"Pharaoh," growled Bakura softly, "I told you, clear as day, there is not a bloody problem and we have nothing to talk about!"
Yami stared worriedly at Bakura. Perhaps, he realized, this would not be so simple. Bakura s face revealed nothing but an effigy, a fa ade of normalcy. Yami relished the feeling as his insides burned with anger. Beautiful white-hot rage overwhelmed him. He felt a great sense of fury, but at the same time, his heart ached for the thief, the bastard tomb robber that had desecrated his beloved father s grave site.
For that, Yami could never forgive Bakura, but he would help the other. His personal hatred for the tomb robber would have to be put to rest to help Bakura overcome this ...thing.
Yami was aroused from his thoughts by a very rude comment indeed. Across from Yami, staring pointedly at the balcony doors (the ones that led to the interior of Apartment 801), Bakura had affixed himself to the opposite railing. Bakura leaned nonchalantly upon the iron-wrought railing. Thieving days hopefully behind him, Bakura was still a natural actor; any drama exhibit would want him.
Yami amused himself idly with the fantasy of his demonic enemy center stage at a Broadway Production. According to the Yami s wavering thoughts, the mildly Gothic Bakura sported a very Lolita style dress (frills and all) while singing opera. A not-so-nice smirk graced his thin lips.
"Now, if you please..." Bakura spat angrily. What was the damn Pharaoh smirking about! This line brought Yami back to the present.
"Bakura!" screamed Yami in frustration at the hopelessness of the situation, "What you were doing, it wasn't nothing, as you say. You were cut-" Angry tears welled in his eyes as he confronted Bakura point blank, only to be cut off in mid-sentence.
"Why are you here?" asked Bakura softly, interpolating the Pharaoh s tirade. Yami paused, caught off guard by the thief king's random inquiry.
"I had to drop something off for Ryou, but Bakura..." The glint had returned to Yami s eyes, implying that the previous conversation was far from over.
Silence reigned for a few brief minutes, each second sending the two into a span of eternity. The rain fell harder; the winds were gaining speed once again. Internal storms rivaled the massive thunderstorm that was brewing still a town away.
Neither acknowledged nor personally cared about the flooding skies. Bakura raised his head, facing the dark clouds. The weather matched his mood with ease. Once more, the bitter enemies stood, stone still, staring at the view, the building, the sky, anywhere but at one another... Tears streamed down their youthful faces, but alas, the other could not see the obvious pain etched into their faces. The rain was quickly obstructing their vision.
"Its raining," noted Yami good-naturally. Bakura could do nothing more than stare at the very random statement. He wanted very much to retort with a harsh, No shit, Sherlock, but he restrained himself. Useless bickering would not help the situation any.
"Hmm?"
"Bakura," Yami started, mentally choosing his words wisely, while he had the upper hand, "Come on, we should probably get out of the rain..." And clean your wound; it s scaring me.
Bakura merely mumbled an affirmation and allowed himself to be led to a small bathroom located near his room.
Bakura silently followed Yami once more. His injured arm was properly bandaged. Normally, Bakura would have ditched the Pharaoh in one way or another, but his earlier actions seemed to have exhausted him. After reaching the living room, the tomb robber sunk gratefully onto a couch, legs giving way.
Yami stared at his long time rival with an expression of concern. He could not fathom Bakura's need to hurt himself. Self destruction and cutting had existed in the days of their true youth, but Bakura had never seemed the type to...
The Pharaoh sighed quietly. He couldn't deal with this. Perhaps he should get Ryou involved. Yes, tomorrow perhaps. But tonight, Yami had some pondering to do. Cutting: to cut one s self, how morbidly fascinating. Yami's mind could not grasp the thought of cutting one s self.
For what, pondered he, attention, ritual, amusement, need, what? Whatever Bakura's reason, Yami would get the thief king to stop.
Insignificant
XX
Accusatory chocolate brown eyes met serene mauve eyes complete with the owner s trademark triumphant grin. Yami smirked softly; he, the king of games and all of Egypt of days long ago, could handle the poor poor thief king, emotional problems included.
Needless to say, Bakura was pissed, seething raving pissed. His thick white eyebrows dipped further, contorting his semi-effeminate features. Two embarrassingly red splotches stood out in comparison to his pasty white skin. His mouth set in a firm scowl.
"Pardon me, Pharaoh," Bakura stated calmly, having regained a semblance of equilibrium. His features portrayed nothing short of absolute control. Of that, he was certain. Deception taught one a plethora of useful tricks.
Bakura raised his head slowly, brown orbs revealed a look of utter hatred. The wind, itself, seemed to halt in compliance as the tomb robber and lowly peasant of Ancient Egypt spoke.
"You and I have nothing to discuss," he stated with a note of finality. His verbiage was delivered so peacefully, a passerby would have instantly been caught in his web-like lie.
Yami's smirk made itself known once more, "Of course, Bakura," His smirk was rapidly becoming an all out mirthful grin, "Of course!"
With a touch of maniacal laughter that rivaled the other's, Atemu finished his mind-numbing speech, "Bullshit."
The wind started once more. The two ancient spirits stood proudly. Shoulders squared and jaws set, the two glared at the other. Tension hung thickly in the air.
Lightning flashed once more, the sky was streaked with purple. If either strained their ears, they would have heard a low rumbling of thunder in the distance.
A clap of thunder sounded and drops of rain fell from the heavens.
His stance reflected his internal nervousness as he stared at Yami's necklace. Really interesting, the Millenium items, mused Bakura mentally. While he, Bakura, possessed the Millennium Ring, the Pharaoh had acquired the infamous Millenium Puzzle.
The puzzle has a hallow core. It would be very easy for one to smash it into the bits of gold that Yami had possessed once long ago. Yes, mused Bakura silently, before remembering where exactly he was.
"Pharaoh," growled Bakura softly, "I told you, clear as day, there is not a bloody problem and we have nothing to talk about!"
Yami stared worriedly at Bakura. Perhaps, he realized, this would not be so simple. Bakura s face revealed nothing but an effigy, a fa ade of normalcy. Yami relished the feeling as his insides burned with anger. Beautiful white-hot rage overwhelmed him. He felt a great sense of fury, but at the same time, his heart ached for the thief, the bastard tomb robber that had desecrated his beloved father s grave site.
For that, Yami could never forgive Bakura, but he would help the other. His personal hatred for the tomb robber would have to be put to rest to help Bakura overcome this ...thing.
Yami was aroused from his thoughts by a very rude comment indeed. Across from Yami, staring pointedly at the balcony doors (the ones that led to the interior of Apartment 801), Bakura had affixed himself to the opposite railing. Bakura leaned nonchalantly upon the iron-wrought railing. Thieving days hopefully behind him, Bakura was still a natural actor; any drama exhibit would want him.
Yami amused himself idly with the fantasy of his demonic enemy center stage at a Broadway Production. According to the Yami s wavering thoughts, the mildly Gothic Bakura sported a very Lolita style dress (frills and all) while singing opera. A not-so-nice smirk graced his thin lips.
"Now, if you please..." Bakura spat angrily. What was the damn Pharaoh smirking about! This line brought Yami back to the present.
"Bakura!" screamed Yami in frustration at the hopelessness of the situation, "What you were doing, it wasn't nothing, as you say. You were cut-" Angry tears welled in his eyes as he confronted Bakura point blank, only to be cut off in mid-sentence.
"Why are you here?" asked Bakura softly, interpolating the Pharaoh s tirade. Yami paused, caught off guard by the thief king's random inquiry.
"I had to drop something off for Ryou, but Bakura..." The glint had returned to Yami s eyes, implying that the previous conversation was far from over.
Silence reigned for a few brief minutes, each second sending the two into a span of eternity. The rain fell harder; the winds were gaining speed once again. Internal storms rivaled the massive thunderstorm that was brewing still a town away.
Neither acknowledged nor personally cared about the flooding skies. Bakura raised his head, facing the dark clouds. The weather matched his mood with ease. Once more, the bitter enemies stood, stone still, staring at the view, the building, the sky, anywhere but at one another... Tears streamed down their youthful faces, but alas, the other could not see the obvious pain etched into their faces. The rain was quickly obstructing their vision.
"Its raining," noted Yami good-naturally. Bakura could do nothing more than stare at the very random statement. He wanted very much to retort with a harsh, No shit, Sherlock, but he restrained himself. Useless bickering would not help the situation any.
"Hmm?"
"Bakura," Yami started, mentally choosing his words wisely, while he had the upper hand, "Come on, we should probably get out of the rain..." And clean your wound; it s scaring me.
Bakura merely mumbled an affirmation and allowed himself to be led to a small bathroom located near his room.
Bakura silently followed Yami once more. His injured arm was properly bandaged. Normally, Bakura would have ditched the Pharaoh in one way or another, but his earlier actions seemed to have exhausted him. After reaching the living room, the tomb robber sunk gratefully onto a couch, legs giving way.
Yami stared at his long time rival with an expression of concern. He could not fathom Bakura's need to hurt himself. Self destruction and cutting had existed in the days of their true youth, but Bakura had never seemed the type to...
The Pharaoh sighed quietly. He couldn't deal with this. Perhaps he should get Ryou involved. Yes, tomorrow perhaps. But tonight, Yami had some pondering to do. Cutting: to cut one s self, how morbidly fascinating. Yami's mind could not grasp the thought of cutting one s self.
For what, pondered he, attention, ritual, amusement, need, what? Whatever Bakura's reason, Yami would get the thief king to stop.