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Original Sin	By : Borath Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > General Views: 1382 -:- 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
- 1-Original Sin
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Original Sin: Chapter 2

I did a lot of things after that night that I wouldn�t have normally, even more so recently. At least I think so. I�m having a lot of these memories recently, funny, clashing memories that make me feel as if I was in two places when they happened. Every time one slithers into my skull dis distracts me from what I�m doing, some instinct begins to yell a loud warning at me. I don�t know why and I can�t figure out what�s wrong, but everything else seems all right so I�ll keep ignoring it.
I�m too busy for distractions like that now anyway. Far too busy. I�m fine. I spent a long time planning and now I reap the rewards of that. Nothing went wrong. Nothing can go wrong. I *planned*.
Plans are good. They insure. Hours spent in a warm room with warm drinks on a cold belly, nothing but the pen�s nib scratching at unpolished paper ensure everything works out to the last detail. I worked out every day, every word, every Latin equivalent to the very last detail.
I worked out the distance between the two pins in the grounat kat keeps its arms down and away from my throat. It doesn�t look like it has arms anymore now. Just limbs. Cold, bloody limbs that were too scrawny to start with and now show bone at the joints. Dull knives and sharp balls in my whip. Not my fault. Shouldn�t have been so skinny to start with.
�Bakura! Damnit, why are you doing this?�
I think it tried to shout then. It didn�t turn out too well. There�s too much blood in its mouth to let it shout. No blood on my hands though, even though it seems there should be. It�s lost so much and yet I remain clean.
The stench of the congealing fluid has grown over the last hour. Become normal. I couldn�t smell it at all when we started. Could only smell sweat and adrenaline and fear. Broke its insides without breaking its skin first, seeing if it would break like a damn when too much had leaked out and around. It got tired of waiting though, so I made the first crack. And then the next. And then the next.
The red doesn�t leave it so quickly now, and in this light it�s turned black. Most of it�s on the floor, bright and spread, soaking in the dirt. It�s changed colour too. But I remain the same. There�s no evidence of the changes I�ve incited in this creature on me, no sign that it was I that brought it down from its perch.
Frowning and fingering the whip�s handle once more, I stalk towards it. Making a fist, I backhand it solidly. I�m spattered this time and it falls awkwardly to the floor, its arms trapped oddly behind it as it curls. It lands on many open wounds, inadvertently grinding the dirt off the floor into its tender flesh. It shouldn�t have flesh. All creatures have flesh, but this one shouldn�t. And I don�t think that I should either.

****

The sound of the old pen scratching at thick paper was a comforting one; a sound of normalcy, almost peaceful in its simplicity. Rhythmical, it fitted with the delicate symphony playing through the two small speakers, creating an atmosphere of taste and culture. If it hadn�t been his home, Bakura would have snorted in contempt at the quaint ambiance.
As it was, he found that the music made it easier for him to concentrate on the figures he was scribbling in a deceptively elegant script. Several columns of numbers tiled the paper already, brief notes jotted by some of them in so few words that only he would be able to decipher them. He had been doing this for an hour now and could almost taste the end of his task. He refused to rush it though; balancing finances was not something to be done haphazardly.
Rather than renting this flat and not having anything at the end of it if he chose to leave, he was buying the place. The fact that he had no form of �legitimate employment� didn�t deter him, and he had built up a fine sum in the week since Malik had visited him. After a midnight raid at one of the more stately homes on the outskirts of Domino, he had been selling antiques over the Internet and reaping in a tidy sum as a result.
It was mostly furniture with the odd sword and two paintings, and a friend had advised him quite well on this sort of trade so there was little chance of him ever being caught. Said friend had also rigged a mind-boggling amount of firewalls and other such devices to prevent his computer being traced and hacked. Said computer was also the result of raids and scavenging, so they couldn�t identify him even if they did trace it.
He wasn�t going to have time to boost his funds for a while now though, so the near future needed to be carefully planned so that he didn�t make a pig�s ear of his accounts or the task that Malik had set. It wouldn�t do to show anything other than good form at an art that he had all but perfected.
There would need to be tools though. He had some here; knives, a whip, a sickle, nothing extraordinary. More was needed to accomplish this �mission� of his to its fullest, and that meant buying them. He had a few ideas in mind that weren�t too costly, but a lot of those would result in death, which Malik was very strict about not inducing. Yami dying would undo all the work he had done and was therefore something that had to be avoided. He could spill as much blood as he wanted though.
Finally, Bakura capped the pen and placed it to the side of the desk, regarding his work stoically. It looked all right. He hadn�t gotten carried away making his list of items and he believed that he had judged quite accurately regarding their cost. This part at least would work out fine. He could gather these things within a few days, and then it would really kick off.
Now it was just a question of getting close enough to Yami to use his new toys.
Getting up from the chair and leavine pae paper where it was, Bakura poured himself a drink and dropped in his armchair to think, nursing the glass carefully. It was a cheap drink but served its purpose. Brandy would have suited the quietly contemplating atmosphere better, but this served fine. Behind him, the music reached a new crescendo, hovering at the peak for a moment before scuttling back down into a lull with a flurry of strings. Bakura paid it no heed, staring at the wall opposite him as if it held the answers he sought.
It had been almost a year and a half since he had last possessed Ryou and he hadn�t so much as tried since then. He hadn�t had to; both Yami and himself had suddenly found themselves with bodies several months ago. Isis had said at the time that their purpose as guardians �or at least Yami�s- had expired now and that they were as free as they were going to get.
They still had their magic and the aty tty to access the Shadow Realm, but now they had physical bodies. It had taken a while to get used to, but Bakura had come to appreciate his. Moving away from Ryou like this hadn�t been an option before.

Although, it did raise the question of whether or not it was still possible for him to possess Ryou now. His Hikari had put up an immense struggle against him the last few times he had and there was no telling how much stronger his mind had become in the last eighteen months. It would probably have to be even more forceful now, perhaps a completely different method. Bakura didn�t know, and despite his approval of planning before acting (most of the time at least), he knew he wouldn�t know until he actually tried.
Casting his eyes to the side, he noted the time before finishing his drink and placing the glass on the table. It was late so Ryou would most likely be at home, unless he had become entangled in a relationship at some point since he last saw him. He didn�t keep tabs on his former host, so that wouldn�t be surprising. The Ring would find him in any case.
Standing, he collected his keys and his jacket and left the flat. The cold night air was gloriously refreshing after an hour of warm lamps and closed windows, and he breathed it with relish as he began the three-mile walk to his old home.
Inside the flat, the music played on.

****
His Hikari was definitely alone in the house. Every light was off giving the large building a cold, deserted feeling. His father�s car was missing and the doors were locked, but that had never been a deterrent to Bakura.
Walking around to the back of the house, he came to the bottom of the honeysuckle-clad trellis and put his right boot into a familiar foothold. He scaled this old thing so many times in the past that it had become second nature to him, something that Bakura was counting on Ryou not g awg aware of. The trellis ended under a window in the hallway, yards from Ryou�s room.
Climbing up the wooden bars through leaves and sweet smelling flowers posed no challenge, and Bakura grinned when he found the window to be unlocked. Forcing it open and easing his lithe body inside, he dropped to the carpet silently before closing the window again.
Little explosions of excitement and anticipation danced about in his stomach and up his back but Bakura showed no sign of the feeling. He relished the thrill of entering this house with the intent of attacking his former host, but his composure was one of a controlled and deadly creature.
Approaching Ryou�s room in long strides, Bakura opened the door without breaking his pace. Everything was in darkness save for the small amount of moonlight that filtered through the fabric of the curtains. Ryou�s slumbering form lay completely prone beneath the window, his body tipped on its side.
Approaching the bed and deciding to wing it from here on, Bakura got a knee up on the bed and manoeuvred himself so that he was straddling his Hikari without quite touching him. Bringing his arms up so that he was supporting himself at an awkward angle on trembling knees and quaking thighs, he quickly grasped both Ryou�s wrists, twisted him onto his back and forced them above his head.
Ryou awoke with a start and gave a half shout when Bakura leaned into him, using his left forearm to pin both his hands whilst his free hand went to grasp at his skull. Closing his eyes, Bakura concentrated on breaking those barriers.
The resistance was immense. The force with which Bakura pushed against the mental barriers was met with an equal amount of pain to his psyche. Trying for one solid push, he actually jerked from the resulting shock.
Ryou shuddered violently beneath him under the assault, his head forced back and his throat taunt as skin pulled tight over tendons and tubes. His chest shuddered with the need to breath as his mind seized up in shock and his shoulders burnt from his arms being pulled in their sockets. None of this made things easier for Bakura.
Finally, assisted by a physical scream of effort, Bakura broke through. Everything was quiet and still. But also isolated. Bakura sensed nothing. It was like being in a shell. His Soul room was gone and Ryou�s appeared to have become invisible to him. He couldn�t access anything, could barely sense Ryou�s life.
A hybrid of a sigh and a growl escaped his lips, the darkened flesh pulled back into something feral from the initial battle to enter the mind in the first place. His mouth relaxed now as did the rest of his body as his consciousness returned to its rightful place. Ryou remained limp, his arms rolling slightly to the side when Bakura finally released his iron .
.
Flexing his fingers and sitting back on his Hikari�s hip, Bakura sat in silence for a few minutes. Ryou�s barely perceptible breathing was the only sound in the room as he thought.
He hadn�t expected to fail. He�d known that it was a possibility, but had still not expected or planned for it. He�d have to go back to planning again before he could do anything else, at least until he got his weapons in.
Getting off the bed, Bakura gave Ryou another dry look. He decided that he�d probably survive the night and maybe make it until noon tomorrow. He didn�t know if he�d wake up for a few days though. A quick touch to the temple and Bakura was assured that he�d be fine. It wouldn�t have bothered him if he�d caused a haemorrhage, which it was likely he had, he�d just have seen this death as a waste.
At least Ryou wouldn�t be in any condition to raise an alert for at least a week. Plenty of time to figure something out.
Bakura pondered this as he left the bedroom, making his way back along the hallway but opting for the stairs and the front door rather than the window and the trellis this time. He circled and advanced on ideas all the way back to his flat, finally reaching the heavy doors as the first light of the day began to creep into existence. And he knew what he was going to do next.

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Original Sin