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Powerless	By : Ochodre Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Het - Male/Female Views: 2661 -:- 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
- 9
- 10
- 11
Author's Notes: Full Metal Alchemist fans may think Bakura's talking about the Law of Equivilent Exchange in this chapter, but I wrote that part before I ever even heard of FMA. XP; Also, Yugi fans may not like some of Bakura's thoughts in this chapter, but eh, they're her opinions, not mine.
---
I can be anything

That you want me to be

A punching bag, a piece of string

That reminds you not to think
Hold your head high

Don't look down

I'm by your side

Won't back down
You wanted a hero tonight

Well, I'm not made of steel

But your secret's safe with me...

~Our Lady Peace, 'Made of Steel'
"Police still have no explanation for the lack of witnesses at the kidnapping. A few recall a strange man in dark clothes, but after that, their memories are fuzzy. 'The people he took, it was like they were possessed or something,' one witness claims..."
Ryou and Bakura stared at the flickering television. "What's he doing?" Ryou wondered finally, shaking his head at the news, "It doesn't make any sense..."
"Of course it doesn't," Bakura mumbled, rubbing her forehead, "You'd have to be insane to understand."
"I thought he would have targeted Pharaoh and his friends first," Ryou frowned, sitting back against the couch.
"I think he's learned not to underestimate them. He's obviously trying to rebuild his army of mind slaves before he makes any major moves. He doesn't have the chaos of a city-wide tournament to hide behind this time, so he has to be more careful."
Bakura hoped her theory satisfied him. She didn't feel like talking. Her inner demons were distracting her.
This wouldn't have happened if you had been able to do your job.
"Witnesses report the perpetrator wielding some sort of gold object..."
With only a growl for an explanation, Bakura pulled herself off the couch and strode back to her room. She heard a questioning noise from Ryou, but he was wise enough not to follow. Good. She didn't know what she would have said to him if he had.
How could she explain that the TV was bothering her? It wasn't that she cared about the people Malik enslaved. Bakura didn't even care about whatever twisted plot he might have in mind for the Pharaoh. But the fact he was using the Rod to carry it out, the Rod he had stolen... the Rod she was suppose to protect.
Bakura pushed aside a glass door and stepped out into the cool night air. The balcony was small and the view was nothing special, but it seemed far away from the world. Her fingers reached out for the metal railing, grabbing it tight with anger.
You've been so busy worrying about the fact you now have tits that you failed to see how much you really screwed up.
The thief ground her teeth and glared at the lights of the city. Her knuckles were white. She cursed Malik. She cursed the Pharaoh, too. How could he insist on putting the Millennium Items out in public, where anyone with an ounce of interest could get to them?
He obviously thought that you would be able to handle the job of protecting them. That's the only reason he let you keep the Ring, you know. What a fool he was.
Bakura hunched her shoulders and tried to ignore the thoughts. She concentrated on the cars passing on the street far below, narrowing her eyes at them.
It was the only thing you had left to do. You couldn't do anything else, after all. You couldn't defeat the Pharaoh. You couldn't avenge your village. You couldn't even gather up all the Items, Pharaoh had to do that for you.
She tightened her grip, the rusty metal digging into her palm painfully. Her bottled up rage and anger seemed to be gathering in her throat.
All you had to do was watch over them. It was the only purpose you had left, and you failed.
The word was a knife in her chest. It cut down the curtains of her anger, revealing a horrible pit of self-loathing. A muffled sound was wrenched from Bakura's chest before she could stop it. She fought to get her anger back, tried to will it forward past this terrible sense of uselessness, but she couldn't do that, either.
Go on, cry like the blubbering woman you've become. You know it's true. Your old life is gone forever; you lost one too many times. Your recklessness has finally gotten you past the point of no return.
Every muscle in Bakura's face was strained as she tried to retain her composure, but it was a losing battle.
Stripped of your physique, stripped of your power, stripped of all your defenses and barriers and fronts and lies, the whole world can see you for what you really are now.
The tears came anyway, and she clutched her head, digging her nails into her scalp. This isn't me! She tried to rebut the voice, but it just laughed.
Oh, it is now. Do you really think you can fix this? You can't do anything against Malik. You sure as hell couldn't bully the Pharaoh into fixing things. You couldn't even stand up to those boys at the mall; maybe they were right. Maybe screwing is all you're good for now.
As the words sunk in, her muscles slowly started to relax. A sense of utter defeat washed over her and made her head and shoulders slump. Bakura blinked though her tears, her eyes fixated on the street that was at least ten stories away.
You can either wait until the Pharaoh seals you in the Shadow Realm for your transgressions, or until Malik comes to finish what he started, or end it now and not give either of them the pleasure...
She started to climb up on the railing, her motions automatic and thoughtless. In the wake of total defeat, there was a tiny spark of quiet determination, to finish things and die with what little dignity she had left.
As the wind toyed with her hair, she felt very nearly peaceful. Bakura wasted no time considering life and death. She knew this would be the end, and she had spent enough time contemplating such things in the Ring. The thief was sick of living with the shames of her past, her curses and burdens. She just wanted to get away. One last great escape for the King of Thieves...
She spread her arms, offering herself to the night, stomach leaping into her throat as she felt gravity tug her forward.
"Bakura?!"
A pair of arms yanked her away from the void, out of the tendrils of gravity's hold. The movement brought her tumbling back onto the balcony floor, on top of the warm body that had pulled her back. Broken out of her trance, she tried to writhe away, but Ryou was holding her far more tightly than gravity had been. He clutched her as though she might blow away, and she stopped struggling, too exhausted to fight. Bakura stared up at the sky, listening to Ryou whimpering behind her head and trying to find the words to express himself.
"B-Bakura, w-what--"
"Quiet."
She closed her eyes, slowly relaxing. In her state of defeated, detached apathy, she could admit that his arms weren't the worst place in the world to be. His panicky voice would only distract her and re-ignite all her fear and hate. Ryou was silenced, but refused to let go.
Her mind was blissfully quieted along with him.
It was a long moment, but words eventually crept back into Bakura's consciousness and convinced her that she could not let it continue. She pulled away from him, standing quickly and moving back to the edge.
Ryou was on his feet in an instant. He grasped her shoulders and took her back, keeping her away from the railing. Bakura turned her head sharply to glare at him.
"You will not stop me from escaping this," she hissed quietly. It was suppose to be an order, but Ryou just hugged her again, practically draping himself over to keep her from leaping with his sheer bodily weight.
"Why?" he asked finally, in frightened, whispered tone that threatened to break into sobs. He sounded like a child being abandoned by his mother.
"You selfish prat, I've lost everything!" Bakura tried to growl, but her voice became strangled as the knot of bile rose in her throat again, jerking her shoulders. "I have nothing! Nothing! My strength, my power, my pride, my purpose..." She wheezed, slumping.
Ryou looked down at her pointedly, tilting his head. "I-I know you come from a time when women were looked down upon, but believe me, just because you have a female body doesn't mean--"
"Damn you, it's not just that!" Bakura all but shrieked at the night sky, trying to lunge away from him, but he held her tight. She hung her head, shaking it. "I've failed... you understand? I have always failed, and it's finally caught up with me... I spent so long trying to prove I could handle the task fate set upon me, but I failed then, and I've failed now..."
Her voice had grown quiet and degenerated into whispered rambling Ryou could barely understand. He could only watch as she muttered and grimaced and shook off the tears that rolled down her cheeks.
He wanted to help, but what could he say? He knew so little about her, and only had the faintest idea of her former life in Egypt. He never knew why she hated the Pharaoh so much, but when she had possessed him in the past, he could sense the tightly-controlled rage that rose to the surface whenever she saw the King of Games.
It had not felt like simple greed for his crown or his title or even his Puzzle, or the sheer malicious envy other enemies had displayed in the past. There was some of that, of course, a good deal of it. But underneath it all, there was a truly righteous passion, a sincere belief that despite the airs of honor and loyalty and altruism he put on, the Pharaoh was the monster he accused the thief of being.
Ryou stared down at the tormented girl who had not long ago been a proud man. Or had she? Was all this mental anguish new, or something that had been festering for a thousand years? How much had really changed...?
Bakura's eyes were barely open. The edges were red and tender, and her eyebrows were wrenched downward in a look of insurmountable frustration. Her irises glinted crimson beneath the sheen of tears. They were a striking, inhuman color, but full of wholly human pain.
He had been quiet for too long. Ryou opened his mouth to speak, intending to say something deep, meaningful, insightful, something that would be so profound that she would immediately succumb and explain all her nightmares and fears and he'd finally be able to fix them --
"I really like your eyes."
They both blinked at that, and she twisted her head towards him to glower in disbelief. He glanced away sheepishly, warmth rising to his face. So much for being profound; he might as well go with it.
"I mean, I've never seen anyone else with eyes that color. They're... they're beautiful."
After a moment of stunned staring, she looked away, indignant and embarrassed. She raised her lip as though to accuse him of something, but he interrupted. "I'm not... not just saying that because you're a girl now. I've always thought that about you. They look the same."
Bakura paused, a blank look coming over her face. She slowly turned her eyes back towards him, wordlessly demanding further explanation. Ryou bit his lip and looked for the right words.
"What I'm trying to say is... uh... I don't think everything's changed. I know you think it has. I know you think things have suddenly become a million times worse, but, h-have they, really?" He glanced down at her, waiting for a rebuke, but she still seemed to be waiting.
"You haven't lost everything. I mean, something kept you going for three thousand years, and I don't think it was anything physical or metaphysical. I know this sounds cheesy and probably stupid, but I think it had to be some kind of inner strength, or determination, or a desire for something. And no matter what, you always have that..."
His words trailed off and hung in the cool night air.
"Not now," her hoarse voice finally whispered into the silence, "not anymore."
"Why not?" Ryou frowned at her expression of dead apathy. He focused on trying to help her, doing his best to ignore the part of his mind that was squealing with glee, both innocent and not-so-innocent, that he was holding such a pretty girl in his arms. It didn't care that this girl happened to have the mind of a once murderous male thief, or was not too long ago a spirit that tormented his waking and sleeping life. She was warm, and she was there, and when she shifted her weight so that she was leaning against him in the slightest way possible, it thrilled him more than he thought it should.
Ryou was relieved when she spoke again.
"It's a long story, boy," Bakura murmured, eyes cast downwards. She was fingering the Ring beneath her shirt.
"I've got all night," Ryou spoke with a gentle smile in his voice, and it was enough to make Bakura lift her eyes.
She stared at him for a long moment, while he waited expectantly.
Wouldn't it be nice to have someone know, after all this time?
Bakura scrutinized his face. His features were honest and childlike.
Wouldn't it be nice to have someone on your side?
She finally met his eyes. Their locked gaze made her quietly uncomfortable, but she kept on investigating, studying, making her final assessments of boy she'd known, she'd been, for years. She knew him, quite literally, inside and out. Even now that she was a separate entity, she could just about hear his thoughts. Though he wasn't outwardly a very emotional person, his eyes were an open book, and right now she could read in them his anxious waiting, quiet hoping, deep concern and slight confusion.
It was in that moment she realized Ryou already was on her side, and had been for a long time.
Then... wouldn't it be nice to truly trust someone, for once?
On that, she had to concede. She looked away from him and into the city.
"Follow me."

---
Bakura eyed the security guards at the museum. One was asleep on his feet, and the other was busy eating a greasy hamburger. She motioned to Ryou to follow her and stole across the lawn, leading him to a back entrance. Ryou had found a spare set of his father's keys at the apartment, and hesitated a moment before quietly unlocking the door.
In the dark, Bakura smirked. She never would've gotten him to go along with breaking and entering when she possessed him, but now he was a willing accomplice, after she had convinced him she had no interest in stealing anything.
They strode through the darkened halls of the museum, and Ryou grimaced at the ominous, looming chunks of stone walls and statues. Bakura was slightly edgy as well. She knew there would be additional security after the break in, and since she - well, Ryou at least - matched the description of the suspect, it wouldn't be wise to be seen. But she had broken into the palaces of god-kings before, and then, as a tall, bulky man. For the first time in days, she found herself almost grateful for a small, lithe form that blended into the shadows easily and was too light to make an audible footfall.
Ryou, on the other hand, had no such experience and she could practically hear his teeth chattering. He clung to the walls nervously, and followed her close enough to bump against her repeatedly, earning a glare and a hissing admonishment every time. The fact he was the son of the owner didn't seem to ease him in the slightest.
But after ducking past a few patrolling guards, they managed to reach the main exhibit, the case with the Millennium Items. It had been blocked off by police tape, and the glass that littered the floor was undisturbed, marked with numbered evidence cards.
Bakura stopped in her tracks as they approached the case. She couldn't help but go over the events that had transpired here not too long ago, cursing to herself, at herself, for everything she could've done differently to win.
"Bakura...?" Ryou whispered and came to a stop beside her, "What did you want to show me?"
"You wanted to know the reason, the thing that kept me fueled by hate for three millennia," She shook her head, motioning to the items. "There it is."
Ryou looked at the slab of stone, with its three empty slots, then back at the thief. "You wanted the items?"
His companion's deadly red eyes narrowed in the shadows of the museum. She started to snap at him for making assumptions, but cooled her temper and took a deep breath. "In a way, I suppose. Their power would help me achieve my goal, but mostly I wanted something else."
Ryou watched as she stepped forward, stepping on a piece of glass.
"I wanted the Pharaoh's blood... I wanted his blood and the blood of all his priests, all his soldiers and all his followers. I wanted to end the world just to get back at him," Her voice dipped into a dark, malicious tone she had not used in some while, a tone that made Ryou shiver with the memory of the voice that had haunted him.
"Revenge?" he asked quietly, "For what?"
In an instant, her crimson eyes turned on him and he stumbled in surprise. He got the message and made note not to interrupt her again, shrinking back. But she said nothing, turning back to the slab and reaching up to touch the cool stone through the hole in the glass case.
"A basic tenant of magic is that it often requires a sacrifice," she started, keeping her eyes on the dull gold of the Items, "The greater the sacrifice, the greater the power. Sacrificing a certain herb might get you a mild remedy spell. Offering a goat might bring the rains. Take a human life, and you've got a deadly weapon. Ninety-nine human lives... and you have the Millennium Items."
Bakura closed her eyes, resting hand against the nearest item, the Scales. Under her breath, she growled, "My entire village."
Ryou's stunned silence hung heavily in the air, and she inhaled slowly, continuing. "I was seven, eight, I don't remember. But I watched the Pharaoh's soldiers set fire to my home, slaughter my parents, my siblings, everyone I had ever known, and melt their bones and blood down into the gold..." She opened her eyes to cast a glare at the metal she was fingering, "This gold."
"That's..." Ryou mumbled, shaking his head, "T-that's horrible... How... the Pharaoh, I never would have thought he could..."
"It wasn't him, it was his father," Bakura sneered, "But it's all the same to me. These are far more than mere items to me, landlord... These are..." Bakura cut herself off and clenched her fingers, "And I am called the thief for wanting to collect them, to put their souls at rest..." her slim shoulders slumped.
"But I couldn't. That damn Pharaoh always had to be one step ahead, had to collect the items himself, and had the audacity to call me evil," her lip curled in disgust, "I suppose a few thousand years in the Shadow Realm does tend to corrupt one's soul, but anything it did to me, it did to him too. Do you honestly think he was any kinder to Yugi than I was to you, in the beginning? Any kinder to mortals that crossed his path?"
Ryou stood helplessly as Bakura hung her head and shook with either grief or fury. He couldn't tell, and he didn't know how to answer, or even if she wanted an answer.
"The only difference between him and I is that I was cursed to remember, forever. But the games ended. I only had one thing, one thing I had to do, guard them... Without that, I... well," Her voice weakened as her rage was smothered by a sadness that was visible in her very posture, "There's not much left, is there...? If Malik can destroy my last purpose in one duel, then I've failed long ago..."
Seeing her head hang and her brilliant red eyes dull, Ryou was swept up with a rush of sympathy and set his hands on her shoulders.
"You haven't failed," He spoke up quietly, lowering his voice, "If you give up now and let him win, then you'll be a failure. But you don't have to--"
"I've already lost against him!" She snapped at him and shrugged off his hands, turning on her heel to face him. "Don't you think if I could've done a damn thing against him, I would have? He took everything!"
"You're still alive," Ryou backed off, frowning.
Bakura snorted. "For all this, I'd rather not be. What do you suggest I do, eh? Go to the Pharaoh for help? He wouldn't help me if the fate of the world depended on it--"
"Maybe he wouldn't," Ryou's frown deepened into a hurt expression, and he stared at the floor, murmuring to himself. "but I would."
Bakura paused and eyed him suspiciously, muttering "I can't imagine why."
Ryou stared past her, into the shadows that gathered in a distant corner. He sorted his thoughts and weighed his words, determined to make no more embarrassing verbal blunders.
"I tried," he started, not looking at her, "I tried to hate you, when you were in my head. But... maybe I'm just too soft, or naive, but after I got the Ring... I wasn't so lonely, anymore."
Bakura cocked one of her slim eyebrows, rolling her eyes.
"Only you, Ryou, would take solace in the company of a spirit bent on death and destruction." She intended it as an insult, but her old vessel had always had the irritating talent for finding the best in people, even when those people did nothing to deserve his forgiveness or sympathy. His utter lack of rage was such a sharp contrast to her own that she was sometimes downright puzzled by it, even as a spirit. If fate had distributed anger and compassion between them equally, they might have been normal people.
"Heh," Ryou smiled slightly, shoulders sinking. "Maybe. But... my mother and sister are gone. I can count the weeks my father has spent at home on one of my hands. I could barely make any friends, and those I did manage to get either ended up in your doll collection or became dueling celebrities."
His dark brown eyes turned to her with an almost puppyish expression, "You were the only one that never left me. You'll probably make fun of me for it, but when you got your own body, I was... scared that you would leave me for good." Ryou rubbed his shoulder sheepishly, "I didn't like being possessed, no, and I didn't like the things you did. But... you were the only one that never went away.
"And sometimes, I could have sworn that I felt that same sense of loss from you... I thought I was just making things up, but now I understand. Even though I know my losses have been nothing compared to yours, I felt... I feel... like I can identify with you. Neither of us really have any family, friends, or anything else Yugi and the Pharaoh and all the others talk about so often," he said, and Bakura thought she heard the faintest note of bitterness in his voice.
"You've been there for me when I had no one else, nothing else going for me, in your own way... I just want to do the same for you," Ryou murmured at the floor, hands sliding into his pockets.
He silently awaited the rant that would surely follow, knowing full well he had bared his soul to someone all too willing to tear into it. But nothing came, and warily, he opened one eye to make sure that Bakura hadn't left in disgust.
She was still there, and for once, her angry glare was missing. In its place was a distant look of thought, tinged with sadness. "You are aware that I am the one who took some of those people from you, aren't you?" she asked a flat tone, without boasting or indignation.
"I don't know," Ryou's eyes wandered to the cord around Bakura's neck, "How much of it was you, and how much of it was the Ring...?"
"What do you mean?" she crinkled her forehead, unconsciously resting her hand on the pendant beneath her shirt, "I was the Ring."
"I mean, if those Items were made in such an awful way," his gaze turned to the tablet, "are you sure they don't have some inherent evil? From what I've gathered, they all have manipulative or destructive abilities. They leave a dark mark on the lives of everyone who holds them. Happy as Yugi seems, even he might have been happier if Duel Monsters never became anything more than a game. I haven't seen him play it for the sake of fun and not some tournament in a long time."
Bakura considered. He did have a point. Even the Pharaoh's item could drive people mad, and the rest had powers that included prying into people's minds, spying on the future, controlling people, and judging their hearts to feed Ammut. Most of them had noble pretenses, but they were all weapons at their core.
"Maybe," Ryou said, a bit wary and hopeful at the same time, "The Ring was possessing you, too...?"
"Don't try and forgive my actions," Bakura warned, a bit disturbed at the thought that she might not have been the power in control after all.
"Bakura, knowing what I know now... I can't help but forgive you," Ryou glanced to the side, "I know what it's like to have the life of someone you care about cut short, and to have that multiplied ninety-nine times... I can't say I wouldn't have done everything you did, either."
Bakura stared at him in disbelief. Her harmless vessel, who wouldn't hurt a fly, implying that he could have been driven to rob and torment and kill, just as she had been? The idea was ludicrous, but he was telling the truth. He didn't see his sister and mother killed before his eyes for the sake of some Pharaoh's greed, no. Instead, they'd been mangled in a car accident thanks to the carelessness of a drunken driver. At least, Bakura thought quietly, the death of her town had been purposeful, part of some higher plan, and since Kuru Eruna had been a town of thieves and tomb-raiders, probably a fair target as far as the Pharaoh's court was concerned. The murder of Ryou's family had been an utterly pointless, random slaughter of innocents.
As she watched Ryou look away, Bakura came to understand something about him.
One of the minor reasons she loathed the Pharaoh was because she could not stand the trusting, idiot cheeriness of his host, Yugi. For a long time, she had thought him and Ryou to be far too much alike, and disliked them equally. But as far as she could tell, Yugi was that way because fate had been extraordinarily kind to him. He had been granted with the good spirit, and he still had family, with friends all around him. Whenever he lost someone, or when anything bad happened, it was magically fixed, and everything and everyone was okay in the end. He always drew whatever card he needed, and luck and destiny always smiled on him and ensured his victory.
Ryou had not been so fortunate. He lacked the natural charisma that Yugi had; though he was externally happy, most of the time, his past tragedies had darkened his aura and turned people away from him. She could tell that he was not as pure as he hoped by the simple fact that all the ghouls, fiends and vicious traps she had ever played while in his body were not her own cards, but his. Where Yugi's deck was filled with cute creatures and noble knights and magicians, Ryou's had ghosts and graveyards and nightmares.
And he had lost people. Really lost them; they were not simply trapped in the Shadow Realm, put in a coma, or rendered soulless thanks to some madman. They were gone for good, and no amount of hope or magic or card-playing could ever bring them back. For every door fate opened for Yugi, it slammed one in Ryou's face.
He was not friendly, kind, or empathic because he was naive and sheltered. He was all that in the face of everything he had experienced, things that gave him every right to be cynical and vindictive and bitter. Yugi was good by nature and circumstance. Ryou was good by choice.
It was not a choice she had ever been able to make, or even, up to this point, aware that people could make. She had always thought that to have evil befall you was to become evil as well, and those who were not evil were simply fortunate fools like Yugi. But Ryou had obviously defied this law, something that required a strength she could not, up until that point, imagine him having.
"Idiots," she muttered, "They're idiots, all of them..."
"Huh?" Ryou looked up, surprised by the break in the quiet.
"The Pharaoh, his cheerleaders. If they could stop congratulating themselves on their friendship and goodness for even a moment, they would be able to see that you're the real thing."
Ryou blinked, obviously puzzled by what sounded suspiciously like a cryptic compliment. "What do you mean?"
"Stupid boy!" she snapped, flustered and tense, "You're like an angel."
Ryou went so utterly quiet and still that she was certain that he had stopped breathing. The blush that spread over his cheeks practically cast a glow in the darkness.
Bakura bit her tongue for letting that slip, furrowing her brow deeply. She hadn't planned on saying that, but all her usual barbs and lies and excuses failed her now. She was stuck with it.
"I thought," she let her tongue free finally, "I thought you were weak. Foolish. And I'm still not certain that you aren't the latter, but you have been able to endure. You fought me off, and laid your life down for people who you had just met. I've put you through more than you even know, but you turn around and do... this," she motioned impatiently, unable to put words to the kindness he'd shown to her recently, "in my hour of weakness, when I am a perfect target. I've no doubt that if the Pharaoh did to Yugi a fraction of what I've done to you, the boy would be a useless, broken shell."
Bakura thought she saw the shadows on Ryou's face become the shape of a shy, if not uncertain smile, and she almost stopped. This was a dangerous path she tread. There was a strange fear in her chest, but not for her physical form, or even the fear of failure. It was the apprehension of delving into the unknown; in this case, showing something other than hate towards another person. It was harder than she let on, since it unsettled her deeply to even begin to pull down even a few of her walls. She stood there in silence, feeling strangely cold.
"I think we're more like them than you want to admit," Ryou whispered gently. "Maybe we're not heroes like they are, but we're still... two halves of the same thing. Host and spirit, light and dark, yin and yang and all that. I think... we need each other, or at least..." he trailed off, smile disappearing as seriousness overtook his features. His voice became barely audible as he cautiously admitted, "...I need you."
He couldn't look at her after saying that. He became more uneasy as the silence stretched, as if afraid he'd overstepped some forbidden boundary by speaking those words. Ryou opened his mouth to try and mend whatever damage he had done, when she interrupted.
"I'm not going anywhere."
It wasn't exactly reciprocal, but it wasn't rejection either. And after what had happened earlier that night, it was the most comforting thing she could have said to him. He lifted his head, hope brimming his eyes. Ryou took a step towards her, but he wasn't as fast as she was.
It took them both a moment to realize what happened. Bakura had reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, gripping the folds and digging her nails in. It was a gesture more possessive than affectionate, and she had set her face into a stoic expression as if trying to be completely professional and dignified about what she was doing. She stood only an inch away from him, staring intently at the collar of his shirt, not able to will herself any closer.
Ryou was frozen for a moment, hesitating for a split second in case this was a prelude to some kind of attack, but he soon relaxed and smiled. Steeling himself with a big breath, he lifted his arms, setting them around her upper back in warm, real hug. The inch of distance between them closed. She didn't tense or writhe or growl in protest this time, accepting the contact and leaning into his shirt.
Neither former spirit or boy could say what exactly they were doing, or what was going on. It was just what felt right, and 'right' felt warm and comforting in a way neither of them were familiar with.
"You're still an idiot," she muttered into the fabric, though her voice was devoid of malice, "A pathetic, lonely idiot."
"I guess so," he conceded, and for once didn't sound struck or wounded. "But I'm your idiot, right?"
There was a muffled chuckle, and Bakura felt herself smiling despite her best efforts.
"Damn right, landlord."
For the first time that night, the malicious, mocking voice of her former self went silent.
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