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Scarred	By : YamiKatie Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > General Views: 933 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter One: Created

"And next we’re playing Kylie’s ‘Red Blooded Woman!’ Get dancing, people!"

The DJ’s voice, warped and tinny through the microphone, was accompanied by a dull thud, magnified many times beyond its normal volume, as additional speakers were switched on. Ryou Bakura, flushed and panting from three hours of vigorous dancing, made his way through the mass of whirling, gyrating bodies, face and hands dappled with lurid colours from the neon strobe lights. The time was nearly eleven and he was leaving, but nearly everyone else was in no such hurry; content to dance or stand around and gossip about football or celebrities or whatever Tokyo’s teenage population was supposed to be interested in. Ryou didn’t know and didn’t care.

The cold outside air was like a slap in the face after the stifling atmosphere of the disco, where the whole area reeked of cigarettes, various drugs and human sweat. Heart still pounding to a non-existent beat, he swayed over to the bus stop.

The glare of headlights appeared after only a few seconds and he let out a heavy sigh of relief as he boarded the bus. For a couple of seconds he allowed himself to dwell on what would have happened if he’d missed it, and felt an icy wave of sweat break out in beads on his pale forehead.

Leaning back in the worn, patched seat, he imagined he was still at the disco, dancing like it was the only thing that mattered, and smiled to himself.

"Ryou-kun! You went to the disco as well?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Ryou looked up as Yugi came over from paying the driver and sat next to him. He shuffled over slightly to give his friend a bit more room.

"Yes." Wondering if the reply sounded too stilted, he hastened to add, "it was great."

Yugi beamed. "I thought so too! They played loads of my favourite songs. Like Dirrty. You know, by Christina. You like that song?"

"It’s not I’m I’m not really into her music."

"What sort of stuff do you prefer?"

"Well…"

They chatted incessantly for the entire trip, moving onto other subjects after a while. Yugi prodded Ryou for information about what he liked, trying to draw the white-haired teenager out of pro protective shell he always seemed to draw around himself. He seemed to have some degree of success- after getting over his natural reserve Ryou talked animatedly, his face losing that cautious, closed look. He even smiled a few times; properly, instead of his usual guarded expression.

Eventually Ryou peered out of the window, straining to make out precise details through the murky glass. "I think this is my stop."

"Really? I live near here too! You want me to walk you home?"

Ryou hesitated. "…Okay, if you want to."

Yugi wasn’t sure quite what he’d said wrong, but somng ing in his friend’s eyes forbid any questions. "Sure I do."

As the bus drew nearer to the stop they got up, holding onto the poles for support. The jerk as the vehicle halted sent a few unprepared passengers lurching forwards, but the two teenagers were ready and walked perfectly steadily to the door. Yugi thanked the bus driver, as was customary, and they both stepped onto the street.

"I think it’s starting to rain…"

And indeed it was, the raindrops hitting their heads with an eerie ferocity, as if it genuinely wanted to hurt them. Yugi pulled ourainrainbow umbrella and opened it up. It burst into life like an exotic flower, shielding them from the rain’s ruthless assault. Heads bent slightly under the wind, which was threatening to whip the umbrella away, the two teenagers made their way carefully down the narrow street. Their feet skidded slightly on the wet pavement, slick with puddles.

"I don’t really like rain," Yugi remarked conversationally. "It always makes me feel depressed."

Ryou gave a short, barking laugh, the sound unnaturally harsh. "Rain makes you depressed?"

"Well…yes," Yugi answered uncertainly, slightly hurt. "It’s so…well, gloomy."

Ryou stared at him, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes, then shrugged. "I think I see what you mean. But I never think of it like that. I mean, it brings life and makes plants grow and everything, so it can’t be all that bad."

"Mmm. Suddenly Yugi brightened. "What do you think of snow? Kinda pretty, I think."

His companion raised his eyebrows to himself, falling silent. Abruptly: "that’s my house." He turned. "Thank you for coming with me."

"No problem. See you at school tomorrow, yeah?"

"Uh huh."

They both groaned at the thought, while exchanging looks of laughter.

"See you."

Ryou turned the key in the lock, and pushed the door open. In front of him, a warm, dry house beckoned. Before going in, he turned and watched Yugi walk away, the usual happy, carefree expression writon eon every inch of his face. Ryou stood there, with the rain now blowing into his hallway, and stared after him for a long time.

Eventually he sighed and, looking dowealiealised that the area of carpet around his feet was now sodden wet, a dark blot in an otherwise perfect floor. Pulling off his scuffed, grimy trainers with long-fingered hands – oddly delicate in spite of the bruises and scratches – he placed them neatly by the door, and made his way slowly upstairs.

……………..

"You’re late," his yami said flatly.

Ryou gazed studiously at the floor, not meeting his eyes. He was barely five minutes over time. Some people at the disco would only just be starting to think about going home.

"I’m sorry."

"Come over here."

He obeyed the command unquestioningly, standing by the bed next to his other half.

"And look at me when I’m speaking to you."

Bakura watched as his host unwillingly raised his head so their eyes met. His eyes were a warm, deep brown, like a pot of swirling treacle. The spirit thought in annoyance how he wanted to shatter that softness, make the treacle set in glazed splinters.

"I didn’t mean to," Ryou said sullenly.

"Anything else to say?" When the silence was long in enough to satisfy him as a ‘yes’ he continued in seeming casualness, "Good. Because I’ve got plenty to say. I’ve been good to you, my little vessel. I’ve let you indulge in your foolish mortal ways; I’ve let yo ouo out for the night. And in return, you can’t even keep one little promise?"

"But I didn’t meant to be late, honest. I was…just…"

"Yes?" Let me hear your excuses, tneerneering expression said. Go on, yadonushi. Amuse me. You know your excuses will never be good enough. But at least while you talk I won’t hurt you.

"I…" Their eyes met agaand and for a moment Bakura felt a jolt of something that wasn’t quite fear, as if somehow he knew-

"I was just talking to…to….Y-Yugi…"

"Ah. So it’s like that, is it?" The spirit made his voice slightly harsher than usual, as if by doing so he could somehow erase the flicker of unease he had felt moments before.

"N-no!" Ryou took a deep shaky breath, fighting the panic that was even now clawing its way up his throat, like a cat up a tree. His other could see this, and they both knew it. It also amused him.

"It was just a normal conversation…we just talked about m-music, and things…" He knew before the words stumbled out that it wouldn’t be any good. But a part of him kept babbling, to delay the moment in which it would happen.

"And we just talked about our f-favourite songs, and the r-rain, and-"

"You’re babbling, my little host," Bakura cut in smoothly, stopping the flow of desperate nonsense as effectively as if he’d just produced a shotgun.

"You know I don’t like it when you babble."

"I wasn’t doing anything wrong!" Ryou cried. His voice was rising rapidly in shrillness, betraying his terror.

"Don’t talk like that, host. I have a headache. That means you have to make me feel better. Now, how are you going to do that?"

Ryou shook his head soundlessly. Bakura could smell his fear. The scent was intoxicating.

"How unimaginative. It seems I’ll have to think of something instead. Let me think." He stood there for a few moments, lips pursed in mock-thought.

"Ah. I have an idea." He indicated the bed. "Sit down."

"I-It’s okay, I’ll stand…" Ryou wanted to move but his legs were frozen to the spot like useless lumps of jelly, wobbly and quivering.

"I said sit down!"

Trembling, the teenager did as he was told.

"Good." Bakura’s voice was cool, controlled again. He walked over to the table, where several knives of various lengths and sharpness lay. His hand hovered over them for a few seconds, then he selected one and held it up for his light to see.

"How about this one? Its lovely and sharp." To demonstrate, the spirit ran a finger down the blade, licking up the resulting liquid with a pointed tongue. "What do you think of my knife, little host of mine?"

This question seemed to require an answer of some kind. Ryou stammered out, "it’s…fine…"

"I’m glad you like it. Your opinions are very important to me." Bakura sat down on the bed next to his host. Before he could control himself, Ryou let out a tiny shudder at how close they were. His yami noticed, and his eyes narrowed in satisfaction.

"Do you want to play with my knife?" The spirit held the blade teasingly an inch from his light’s throat. He moved it softly to and for, just stroking the delicate skin. "Do you?" The blade continued its deadly caress.

"No," Ryou replied in strangled tones.

"Aww, that’s a pity. Because my knife wants to play with you."

Like greased lightning the blade was moved upwards and dragged lightly down his face. Ryou’s cry was lost as he was shoved roughly against the bed.

"For every sound you make, I’ll do another." The knife was raised again, creating a parallel cut less than a finger’s breadth from the previous one. It had hurt enough on fresh skin; near already wounded flesh the pain was agony.

Instinct demanded that he wipe away the blood trickling from his face. Making a slight choking sound in an effort not to cry out, Ryou tried to struggle up, but his yami pinned him effortlessly bth hth him, lying on top of him.

"What, trying to get away? You like this. I know you do." Bakura’s elbow was pushing his light’s shoulder downwards as he used his right hand to make two identical cuts on the other side. Just in cRyouRyou didn’t know exactly where each mark was being made, the spirit kept up a running commentary.

"Just below the eye…that suppose to be quite a sensitive area in mortals. Shall we try it and see?"

The blood was now running freely down Ryou’s face in two miniature rivers, flowing steadily. It mingled with his tears to form a runny, marbled liquid that ran into the corners of his mouth. His lips tightened, both to hold back the scream and in an attempt not to swallow the blood.

"Come now, my host, you’re missing the best part." Bakura’s eyes glowed with a fiendish intensity. He ran a delicate finger up his host’s face, collecting some of the blood, and this time Ryou couldn’t hold back the scream than bubbled up from within.

"It’s a pity you did that," his yami murmured while licking the blood from his finger. "Because, unlike you, I keep my promises. So host, I’m going to have to do this." Slowly he moved the blade between Ryou’s eyes, very precisely. Like the others, the cut wasn’t deep, but it didn’t have to be deep to be effective.

Unable to see clearly from the blood running down tridgridge of his nose and falling off the sides into his eyes, Ryou let out a tiny whimper. Not just for the pain, which in itself was blinding in its agony, but out of fear for the unknown.

"Now, where were we? Ah, yes. A present." Bakura forced his light’s mouth open and carefully dangled a finger over the chasm, letting a few choice drops drip in.

At the sensation of his own blood on his tongue Ryou’s whole body convulsed, jerking under his other half in a tortured spasm. His yami released him, and Ryou retched over the side of the bed, making pitiful choking sounds.

After the worst of it was out he looked up, as if expecting to be told his yami was finished for the night, but Bakura immediately grabbed him and forced him back down again. This time Ryou fought him, pushing him away with every inch of strength he possessed. His yami simply sat on top of him, letting Ryou hammer away at him. Ryou didn’t have the strength to much damage, but his sudden indignation was a good substitute. Not that this unduly worried the spirit – physical pain had long ceased to bother him.

As Ryou showed the first signs of slowing, his anger giving way to unfightable exhaustion, Bakura turned and, almost disdainfully, pushed him back down. With no strength left to resist, Ryou sank into the bed, arms wrapped over his face in a last attempt at protection. His yami simply pulled his arms apart, his grip steely and somehow emotionless.

Then the agony began again, liquid fire coursing through his bones as the knife moved over his face.

"Sixteen cuts," his yami pronounced in an almost dreamy voice. "One for every year of your worthless life."

Ryou let out a weak moan, which was transformed into a cry of pain as the blade continued its dance.

"That was only the seventh one. There’s still plenty to go, don’t worry…"

Suddenly he was pulled up, grabbed by the collar of his shirt like a dog and flung against the pillows.

"Pay attention now. This is very important."

Ryou gazed at him through eyes that were dull and clouded.

"This-" Bakura moved the metal softly over Ryou’s neck – "is the jugular vein. Quite important for you mortals. I cut this and you bleed to death oh so slowly."

"No," Ryou mumbled as the blood rose in his throat. "Please don’t…"

"This, on the other hand," his yami continued, not taking the slightest bit of notice of him, "is another not half as important little vein which I am going to open up. After all-" his voice lowered to am almost conspirator-like whisper- "the neck is the best bit. Don’t you think so too?"

A shake of the head, sending red droplets flying everywhere.

"I knew you’d agree…"

A twirl of the knife…

"Ya-do-nu-shi."

With every syllable uttered, the knife slashed. Ands tis time Ryou did manage another scream, a fully-fledged one that careered insanely around their heads for what seemed like an eternity. After this, he passed out.
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