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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
- 10
- 11
- 12
Thanks for the reviews, guys. Sorry I didn't update this sooner, I got distracted.
In response to elusive dreamer, thanks a lot. :) The whole powerless thing is kinda... Well, I kind of explain that in the last chapter. And I agree with you on Snow on the Sahara; I think it stands fine on its own, but one day I realized almost my stories have a strange unplanned continuity among themselves and lots of people were whining at me for a sequel, so there you go.
---
I am the voice inside your head

I am the hate you try to hide

I am the lie that you believe

I am the truth from which you run

I am the end of all your dreams

And I control you

Mrs. Self Destruct�

~Candymachine88, covering Nine Inch Nails, 'Mr. Self Destruct'

Ryou stared at the glaring red shapes on his alarm clock. His vision was too blurred by sleep to discern the numbers. Once they came into focus, he rubbed his eyes to make sure he had read correctly.
Four AM. A quick glance out the window confirmed the time. It was still dark, and the city was eerily quiet.
For once, it hadn't been a nightmare woke him up, or his roommate arriving home late at night. Ryou wasn't sure what had done it this time, but he was gripped with a sense of restlessness. He sat up, pushing some of his tousled hair out of his face.
It took him several minutes to discover that he was hugging his pillow with his other arm, and had brought it up against his chest. He looked down at it in half-aware puzzlement, before quickly pushing it back on the bed where it belonged, embarrassment rushing into his face. It got worse when he remembered the previous night.
They had gone home from the museum in a silence that was both awkward and peaceful. It was late enough that, when they got home, they made an unspoken agreement to go to sleep. Ryou had finally broken the silence by wishing Bakura a good night, and she had only twitched her lip in response, unusually despondent. He had noticed, and lifted his hand to reach out for her. But she saw it and came to life, quickly disappearing into her room before he could touch her.
Ryou sighed at the bangs that had fallen back into his face. He didn't know what had gotten into him. Wasn't he the same person that cringed when someone did so much as greet him in the halls at school? He was supposed to be reserved and shy, to the point where some people thought he was cold. Why was he suddenly trying to hug people and touch their shoulders?
Not people, he reminded himself, scrunching his shoulders. Just Bakura.
He sincerely hoped it was not because of her new gender. Ryou felt bad enough admitting that her new form, the one that caused her so much grief, was rather stunning. For a moment, he felt no better than the boys at the mall, or even Malik, but then... he remembered that he had found Bakura to be a fairly handsome male, too. But back then, the thief had such a serpentine air about him, with a vicious tongue and unbridled arrogance, that even Ryou was repelled most of the time.
Nevermind that Ryou may have been somewhat hesitant to admit that he might have been gay, or bisexual, or something else. It was something that confused him even as he approached eighteen. His life had been so interrupted by the tragic, the mystical and the occult that mundane teenage dilemmas, such as figuring out his sexuality, had taken a far back seat to simple survival.
He didn't even know why he was thinking about it now. Bakura was male, no matter what she looked like, and everything would be back to normal soon enough.
Guilt overtook embarrassment. Bakura was in misery, and he felt like the scum of the earth for briefly, fleetingly wishing that things might not go back to normal. He knew that version of Bakura would never let him hug her, or look at him with anything but scorn. The male thief didn't need him, didn't want him, and didn't even like him. When she was a man again, Bakura could easily forget everything that happened in the past few days, and go back to being hateful and proud. And by now, she had been living on her own enough to no longer depend on her former vessel for much of anything. She... He would probably leave.
But the thief wouldn't be in such pain then, and to Ryou, that took precedence over any of his childish -- or adolescent -- desires for friendship and affection. He glanced over at the pillow, and paused for a moment, feeling foolish, before he gave in and gathered it back up in his arms.
At least he'd have the memories.

---
Ryou was shaken out of his dozing by a muffled, agonized sound from the direction of Bakura's bedroom. He sat up again, dropping the pillow immediately this time. Uncertain that the sound had been real, he listened carefully to see if it would repeat. It did.
He quickly slid out of his bed and made his way across the hallway in the darkness. His hand was already turning the handle when he remembered to knock tentatively, warning her of his entrance. Unable to wait for a response, he opened the door completely and turned on the light.
Bakura was curled into a tight ball on the bed. She had angrily kicked off the covers and displaced the bedspread and her pillow. Her hands were clutching her head, tufts of wild silver hair arching up between each white-knuckled finger. She opened one eye to look at him as soon as he entered, indicating that she was awake. Judging from the dark bags under her eyes, she had been for most of the night.
"What's wrong?" Ryou wondered with considerably worry in his voice, and he nearly tripped over the pillow as he made his way towards her.
She half croaked and half snarled something that sounded like the word 'head', before grimacing and burrowing her face in the mattress. In a rush of concern and sympathy, he abandoned his survival instincts and sat close beside her on the bed, tilting her upwards before she suffocated herself.
Ryou set his hand on her temple, fingers sinking into her hair as he examined the area. Barely aware of his actions, his hand ran over the area and sifted through her surprisingly soft hair, searching for bumps or other damage. "Did you hit it?"
Bakura tensed when he touched her, staring at the wall directly in her line of vision, obviously caught off guard. Ryou stopped his hand, nearly horrified to realize where it was, but she actually started to relax underneath it. Closing her eyes, she muttered, "Headache."
"Oh." Ryou breathed a sigh of relief, but didn't remove his hand. A headache wasn't as bad as an injury, but still a cause for concern. Bakura was so resistant to pain that Ryou sometimes wondered if she liked it, so she had to be in the grip of an epic migraine to be in this much discomfort.
"I know it hurts," he spoke in his softest tone, well aware of the pains associated with headaches, "I used to get these all the time."
"Of course you did, you had me in your head," she rasped, screwing her eyes further shut. For once, he was relieved to hear her sound only annoyed. It meant she was relatively well.
He made a quiet humming sound in affirmation, focused on watching her face. Ryou could feel her facial muscles slowly lose some of their tension beneath his palm, and her fingers released the death-grip they had on her head. Bakura's hands fell to the side, and her crimson eyes opened a fraction of an inch. Ryou accidentally caught her gaze, and was surprised to see a distinct lack of anger, or even fear, within them. They were unreadable.
"What did you do?" she finally asked, eyebrows furrowing in genuine curiosity.
"Mh?" He blinked, brought out of his momentary trance, and quickly looked away from her eyes.
"It's gone," she muttered, looking somewhat confused.
"The headache? It must've just run its course," he replied, staring at the floor.
There was a long pause, before he heard her murmur, "Then you can stop, now."
"Stop what?" Ryou looked back shyly, certain he was blushing, but trying his best to hide it.
"Pawing my head." Her voice was creaky, and she contradicted herself by tilting her forehead against his hand. It was then he realized that he hadn't just been resting his hand in her hair, but massaging her temple with his thumb.
Yes, he was definitely blushing.
He sputtered an apology and started to remove his hand, but slim fingers suddenly shot up and grabbed his wrist, digging sharp nails into his skin. His hand froze, captured, and he looked down at her with a lost expression.
"Just don't move," she growled under her breath. Bakura's eyes had closed again, and her mouth was set in a stern frown even as she pressed her head against his palm, "I don't want it to come back."
"I-I could go get some, um, some medicine from the pharmacy," Ryou offered shakily, glad she couldn't see how red his face was. She only growled again, louder, like a dog with a bone that it was unwilling to relinquish. Her lips even pulled back to reveal her unusually pointy canines.
Ryou shrank back from her slightly, staring at her teeth warily. But then, unbidden, his eyes wandered down from her fangs to her lips... lips that Malik's penalty game had made especially lush and full. He let out a muffled squeak and jerked his gaze back to the floor. Afraid that wouldn't be enough, he forced his eyes closed so they wouldn't notice anything else.
When he felt Bakura's hand drop from his wrist, he dared a quick glance back at her. She looked more peaceful now, and the snarl had disappeared. Her head felt heavy and warm on his hand, and that warmth seemed to spread to his face and crept into his chest, lifting his heart. It reminded him of the hug they had shared at the museum, and he felt himself smiling. If she intended to fall asleep on his hand, he was dangerously tempted to lay down and curl up with her...
Then he remembered that it was Monday, and he had to go to school in an hour. He didn't dread school as much as some students, but right now that fact seemed unusually disappointing. Embarrassed, he shook himself out of it.
"I have to go to school in a little while," he whispered reluctantly, and that elicited an irritated grumble from the thief. She opened her eyes, glaring at him for foiling her plans once again.
"But, um, I could still swing by the pharmacy real quick to get you some painkillers. They'll be better than my hand, I promise," he smiled nervously.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You're going right now?"
Ryou blinked, then nodded, "I'll probably already be late..."
"Keh." She muttered and finally pulled her head away, rolling away from his hand with a disgruntled look on her face. "Don't bother. I'll be fine."
Ryou didn't notice it, though, since he had turned away so she couldn't see his own disappointed expression. He retrieved his hand, rubbing the nail marks on his wrist. They didn't hurt, but they seemed awfully cold.
"Well, I'll get you something on the way back, just in case," he stood up and looked back down at her, but she rolled over again to turn her back to him. He frowned, the warmth in his chest replaced with a strange sense of rejection.
"If... if it comes back, well, sometimes taking a hot bath helped me. The bathroom's the most insulated room in the apartment, it'll keep out all the noises."
"I'm perfectly aware of that," she snapped, still not dignifying him with a look, "I was with you the entire time, if you recall."
Ryou grimaced at the thought, then sighed and rubbed his head. At least he was used to her behaving like this. She had always hated not getting her way, even when she was a spirit.
But for once, he would've really liked to have gone along with whatever she had in mind...
Humiliated by that stray thought, Ryou quickly excused himself to get ready for school.
---
Bakura managed to fall asleep, even without the presence of Ryou's hand and its bizarre healing touch. Her sleep was blissfully free of both headaches and nightmares, so she slept well into the day, making up for her sleepless night. Hunger eventually forced her awake, though, and she muttered to herself as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. The thief sat up and idly scratched an itch on her chest, but stopped when she realized just what she was scratching.
She glared down at her breasts. I'll never get used to these damn things, she grumbled mentally, before angrily reminding herself that she wouldn't have to, that they were completely temporary. Still, Bakura was half tempted to dig out that torturous-looking contraption that Serenity had made her buy, if it would restrain her new features better than the bandages had.
She smirked slightly at the memory. Wretched as yesterday had been at the time, she had to admit it was amusing to see Ryou rendered so pitifully awkward by being surrounded by aisles of women's undergarments.
That memory lead to a more recent one. The early morning scene replayed in her head, and Bakura's smirk sunk into an angry frown. She must have been delirious with pain and lack of sleep to try and claim his hand like that. But then, his hand had, somehow, chased away the equally strange headache that had struck her in the middle of the night. Bakura could faintly recall getting similar headaches when she had been a man in Egypt, but she had been incorporeal for so long that she had completely forgotten the wretched pain.
For a moment, she really wished she was a spirit in Ryou's head again. It had been easier then, since she could ignore useless mortal afflictions like pain and hunger. That, and she could make his hand do whatever she wanted most of the time...
Bakura growled at the thought and pushed herself out of bed. She had no interest in remembering that particular incident, and she swore that she would kill Ryou if he even attempted something like that again. Or hit him. Or yell. At the very least, she would glare at him as he'd never been glared at before.
She stepped out of her room and walked bare-foot to the kitchen. The quiet emptiness of the apartment was unnerving, but she ignored it. Still, Ryou's presence would have been more than welcomed at the moment. But not, Bakura angrily told herself, because of anything to do with his hand or anything else. She just would've much rather had some of his cooking than the prepackaged snacks that she had to resort to eating when he was gone.
Right now, she would've given almost anything for a large steak, cooked rare and dripping with juice, but the only meat in Ryou's refrigerator was cold and sliced. Hardly adequate, but better than granola bars. The deli meat was still a poor substitute for a real meal, though, and she chewed it distastefully as she curled up on the couch.
The small apartment wasn't just empty, it was boring. If Ryou was around, she might have been able to talk him into a game of Duel Monsters. She would've even been willing to dig out the old Monster World board game, though it seemed to unsettle Ryou. Probably because of that one tower, with blood stains on it that had resisted all attempts at washing...
She snorted and waved the thought away. Besides, that game was meant for more players, though thinking about it, she couldn't see why it would be impossible to have one Game Master and one player. She wondered if he'd let her be the Game Master again, but she would've been happy to be a player, too. As she stretched out on the couch, she snickered to herself. He'd have to make one of those miniatures for her. Somehow, she didn't think he'd mind much.
Then again, maybe he would. She recalled a time when she lived in his head, before she had started getting aggressive with her possessions. He used to love making miniatures and creating small buildings and props for Monster World, but since she had started taking him over and trapping the souls of his friends, he had stopped doing it. After the game with Yugi and his friends, he'd never willingly played again, or touched his sculpting tools. The smirk fell from her face again. Maybe she could get him interested again...
How sweet.
Bakura groaned and set her hand on her forehead. The onset of her inner demons usually foretold the start of a headache. They'd torn into her last night for letting Ryou hug her... no, for initiating it.
Such a shame he had to go to school, isn't it? I'm sure you would've loved to have him in your bed again.
She stood up, already feeling the pressure in her skull. Ryou's suggestion was the only idea she had, so she headed to the bathroom and glared at herself in the broken mirror.
I'm afraid he's not here to soothe the pain this time. It's just you and me, thief...
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Bakura could have sworn she saw something flash in one of the shards on the mirror, but she dismissed it with an angry sound. Hesitating a moment, she pulled off her sweater. The Ring jangled as it was revealed, and felt even colder against her bare flesh once it was exposed.
Steeling herself, she glanced at her reflection. It was somewhat shattered, but the mirror was whole enough to give her a pretty good look at her new body. The Ring hung much lower on her chest, nearly to her stomach. She decided to keep it on. It gave her something else to look at besides those... things.
Her slept-in pants and underwear were next, and she was glad the mirror was too high to show her any changes below her waist. Bakura headed to the tub and, bringing up one of Ryou's memories, turned on the hot water and switched the water to the faucet from the shower-head. She made a point to look at the water and not her naked self as the tub filled.
Oh, no need to be so modest. Malik has excellent taste. If you bothered to look at yourself, you'd see how ravishing he made you.
She shut her eyes tightly and sank into the water. "Shut up," she grumbled aloud, lowering herself until she was in up to her neck, long hair drifting in the water around her. Her shorter body allowed her to stretch out in the tub with only minimal scrunching.
Bakura glanced down at her Ring, and gripped it below the water. If she had been able to, she would've summoned a monster to stand guard for her. She felt strangely vulnerable at the moment, and didn't know why. She usually didn't mind solitude, but the small apartment no longer seemed quite as safe as it had before. Bakura looked at the door, making sure it was closed and locked. Muttering, she lifted her other hand out of the water and set it against her head, in a feeble attempt to ward off the strengthening headache.
She blinked when she realized she had set her hand in the same place Ryou's had been, unconsciously trying to recreate his touch.
With a strangled sound, she dropped her hand and leaned her head against the back of the tub. She scowled deeply, distracting herself by focusing her anger towards him. Where had he gotten the nerve to do that, anyway? Just touching her head like it was no big deal, stroking her hair and kneading her scalp -- she should've smacked him.
Perhaps, that damn voice snickered, because it wasn't a big deal. After all, he couldn't know how much you liked it...
Her face felt warm. Frustrated, she tightened her grip on the Ring and glared at the faucet venomously. It was this damn body, it had to be.
Hah. You know that's a lie. You were attracted to him even when you were a male. Need I remind you of some of the dreams you had? Ones that prompted you to steal yourself a new set of sheets the next day? Good thing you don't have to worry about that embarrassing little problem any more.
"Shut up!" she repeated, louder, curling up against the back of the tub.
The only difference between then and now - besides the obvious - is that you've let some walls come down between you and him. It wasn't just the Pharaoh's penalty game, or even Malik's. Learning some humility has changed you, little thief. It must be hard to realize you're no longer immortal, but a vulnerable, frail thing that has to rely on some weak, soft-hearted teenage boy to feed her, clothe her, and protect her...
The headache worsened, and her brain felt an invisible stake being driven into her brain. Bakura's face wrenched in pain, and she gripped her head. "I don't need ANYONE to... gh..." Sharp, stabbing bolts of pain shot through her skull and interrupted her.
You're certainly not the spirit you used to be. Or even the man you used to be, for that matter. Why not start over entirely? New life, new body... new emotions... The hissing emphasis rang in her ears, and each word added to the pain in her head, like hot pins shoved into an open wound. She strained, grasping for an argument, but the ache in the front of her skull was too much.
Stupid, stupid thief. You can lie to anyone...
The voice seemed to revel in her pain. It was the same one that had tried to goad her into killing herself, the same one that had tormented her that morning she woke up with Ryou, the same one that had mocked her when Malik fell upon her like a hungry wolf...
"...but yourself."
Bakura's blood froze. For a moment, she was so startled that she even forgot the pain. The voice had sounded entirely too real that time.
Unable to breathe, she slowly lifted her head towards the source of the voice.
She met a pair of dead, blank eyes, so similar to Malik's that she almost screamed. But this time, they were red.
A spirit version of her former self sat on the edge of the tub, arms folded, an exaggerated grin curled across his face.
No - not quite her old self. His eyes were blank, but dancing with sadistic glee, drinking in the fear that must have been on her face. His proportions weren't right, too tall and thin and long to be human, and his features distorted and pointed. His fingers ended in knife-like claws, and a long, familiar scar went over one of his eyes. Even the version of the Ring he wore around his neck seemed far more wicked, the circular part no longer smooth, but a series of bent, sharp curves, and long, gleaming hooks hung where the pendulums should have been. The eye engraved in the center no longer stared, but glared hatefully.
"Who are you?!" She finally found her voice, and did her best to sound intimidating. Had the pain gotten so bad that she started hallucinating?
"Haven't you figured it out yet, tomb-robber? Your little vessel was right," The spirit leered, tilting its head to one side. His grin grew wider, showing off an array of jagged teeth, and he leaned forward. "I'm the spirit of the Ring."
"What?!" Bakura snarled, but cowered back slightly in the tub. "I was the--"
"Yes, was," he snickered in a raspy, darker imitation of her voice. "But without your powers, you're just another pitiful mortal with a Millennium Item you can't handle, just like that boy."
"You cannot exist," Bakura's mind raced for an explanation. This made no sense. She had been the spirit, and she left the ring. There hadn't been anyone or anything else in there with her...
"I suppose I shouldn't, but I rather like being contrary," he giggled in a mad tone, before setting his claw-like hands against the side of the tub and looming over her, only a few feet away. "I think I should be hurt that you don't recognize me."
"Jog my memory," she seethed, narrowing her eyes. She mustered all her strength to be angry at this thing instead of afraid, but he - it - reminded her too much of Malik.
"Hmm, hmm, hmm... why, I'm that nasty little piece of your mind that the Pharaoh took away in his penalty game." He lifted a hand, as if making a point, "Remember now, don't you? I'm the piece of you that was born the day your village was killed, the piece that grew with every murder you committed, the piece that came to invade every aspect of your mind over the ages in the Shadow Realm."
Bakura tried to sink further beneath the water, but it seemed impossible to escape the spirit's twisted grin. She was cornered again.
"Didn't really think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?" He reached out for her, claws threatening to tear her face off, until they suddenly changed direction and smoothed back her hair. It was a sick parody of how Ryou had touched her, and left her cold enough to start shaking.
"My pretty, pretty, scared vessel," he purred, "I can't help but tease you. You're so beautiful when you cry... I just can't let you get rid of me."
This had to be another nightmare. It was too ironic to be real.
"Even the Pharaoh couldn't defeat me completely, and you? You're just a thief. That's all you ever were. I was the murderer." The spirit's disgustingly gentle touch suddenly turned angry, ethereal hand somehow grasping a lock of her hair and yanking her forward. "When I was part of you, you could control me. And when you had power over the Ring, I could do nothing."
The spirit's surreal face was only inches from her own, now. He had her pinned with his corpse-like eyes.
"But you've lost that power, and now, the Ring can control you."
Bakura choked in pain and surprise. The points of the real Ring, the one laying against her chest, suddenly drove themselves under her first few layers of skin. Blood floated into the water.
The spirit came closer, looming inches away from her face. "So, landlord... any wishes?"
His distorted laughter echoed off the walls of the bathroom.
---
Author's Notes: The 'any wishes' bit comes from Yami Bakura's introduction in the manga. He says he's renting Ryou's head, but instead of money, he pays the rent in wishes. I'm generally using the manga canon for this story... what of it I have, anyway.
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Powerless