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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
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- 3
- 4
Author's Notes: The end of this chapter is my, uh, tribute to all those 'Bakura gratuitously abuses Ryou' fics.
---

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

I know, right now you can't tell

But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see

A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired

I know, right now you don't care

But soon enough you're gonna think of me

And how I used to be...

~ Matchbox 20, 'Unwell'
BRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiinggg...
Ryou rolled away from the sunlight and grumbled, fumbling for his alarm clock. He only succeeded in knocking it off his night stand, which put it out of his immediate reach. He groaned into his pillow before he sat up, holding his head.
"Shut up," he grumbled at the alarm, but it stubbornly ignored him. He managed to pull himself to his feet, leaning over to smack the off button, not bothering to pick it up, and trudged across the hall into the bathroom.
"Ow!" Ryou yelped, wincing as he remembered that the bathroom floor was littered with glass and he had bare feet. "Ow, ow, ow..." He whimpered, sitting down in the hall and examining his foot, grimacing and looking away as he pulled a little shard out of his heel. Ryou stood and limped towards the living room, favoring his heel by walking on the ball of his foot and leaving a trail of red dots on the carpet. He looked for the dustpan.
Instead, he found Bakura.
The thief was curled up on the couch, concentrating intently on eating rice straight out of the plastic container. Ryou had long ago stopped being shocked by Bakura's lack of etiquette. He was just glad his roommate was using a fork.
What struck Ryou was the way Bakura was sitting; practically curled up, his knees drawn up to his chest, a far cry from his usual lazy, lounging, almost feline sprawl.
And he looked... smaller.
Ryou blinked and brought the heels of his feet back down to the floor, ignoring the pain. No, Bakura still looked smaller.
The height of the body Bakura had been given was one of the things that had intimidated Ryou and further set them apart. Bakura's physical form was not only tall, but broad-shouldered and powerful; though Ryou had gained some inches over the years, he was far from imposing. Bakura wore more daring, colorful clothes, Ryou had a considerably more conservative fashion sense. Bakura's eyes were a striking shade of almost red, and usually broiling with irritated anger or sharp, sarcastic cynicism, Ryou's eyes were the same gentle hazel they had always been.
Now those red eyes looked guarded, cloaking themselves in fury to hide a far less respectable emotion.
Fear...?
The thief finally noticed Ryou's confused expression, and lifted his gaze to glare at the other boy venomously, as if daring him to say something.
"Bakura, is it just me, or do you look a little --"
"It's just you," Bakura hissed quietly, red eyes blazing as he angrily took another bite of rice.
Ryou flinched at the tone, but even that couldn't keep him quiet. "I hope you're not hurt too badly."
"'m fine," Bakura mumbled, something that made Ryou even more confused. It wasn't like Bakura to mumble. Though his voice was usually low and scathing, almost husky, it was always clear. Ryou could not imagine him becoming quiet, not unless he was deathly serious.
"But you used a whole roll of bandages..." Ryou reminded him. Something unidentifiable flared in Bakura's eyes, and he moved as if to lunge off the couch. Ryou drew back, falling into a defensive posture, but no verbal or physical attack ever came. Bakura sank back into the couch cushions, tossing the emptied Tupperware to the side before he hugged his knees and set his face against his tightly folded arms. Only his furious eyes were visible, trained on Ryou and curtained by a collection of thin, messy, silvery bangs.
Ryou became quite unsettled when a part of his mind idly noted that Bakura looked... odd when he did that.
No, the word his internal voice had used was pretty...
Ryou's blood almost froze.
He never quite admitted to the attraction he felt for his darker half, but it was a distant emotion, the kind a casual fan might feel for a superstar. Bakura had the same menacing beauty as a panther, a wolf, a sleek shark; and like those animals, he was best admired from afar.
But somehow, he seemed to have lost his cool, confident fierceness somewhere between now and the last time Ryou got a good look at him. It had been replaced by an immature, defensive rage. Now, he seemed more like a ruffled house cat, fluffing its fur and hissing with indignation.
"What do you find... find so damn interesting, weakling?" Bakura growled, sounding strangely short of breath. He looked distinctly uncomfortable.
The odd voice snapped Ryou out of his thoughts, and he realized he had been staring. Startled, he shook his head sharply, looking flustered himself. "Nothing... I, uh... I have to get ready for school."
He managed to find the dustpan and limped back to the bathroom. He kneeled down to sweep up the shards, but his mind was elsewhere the entire time.
---
Ryou found school longer and more boring than usual. He was distracted, listening to his teacher lecture halfheartedly, participating in the class only as much as was necessary. His head was in the clouds, his gaze distant, and his attention focused far away, but this was nothing out of the ordinary.
Something was different, though. He had an active mystery to puzzle over, rather than wandering down the same old tired, meandering trails his mind usually traveled. True, this wasn't the first time Bakura had come home in a mood, not the first time he had damaged a part of the apartment, not the first time he had growled and snapped and tossed things about. But something just felt... off about the whole situation.
Something, somehow, was not as it should be.
Ryou couldn't say what that was, or how he knew. The only thing that really stood out was how the thief seemed so oddly small, but Ryou was already doubting his memory, chalking it up to some sort of early morning optical illusion. But he had heard Bakura's voice clearly, despite how muffled it was between the thief's disturbingly shrill shouts. Was that why he had been mumbling? Bakura's voice must have been altered somehow if he was trying to disguise it...
The lunch bell rang out and violently scattered Ryou's thoughts. Dazed, he unloaded his things into his locker and made his way towards the cafeteria, grateful for the opportunity to think in peace. He spotted Yugi and the others with a passing glance, but paid them no more heed than he usually did until they walked up to him.
"Ryou, we need to talk," Yugi said, as seriously as his sweet voice could manage. Joey and Tristan flanked him on either side, while Tea hovered behind him. They all wore grave expressions, and Ryou frowned. That was never good.
"Yes, what can I help you with?" Ryou asked innocently, though in the back of his mind, he knew it had something to do with Bakura's latest antics. Why else would they talk to him? Ryou let an undetectable sigh of resignation escape. At the very least, maybe he'd find out what had caused Bakura's fit.
"Someone broke into the museum last night," Yugi said quietly, "The Millennium Rod is gone."
"What?" Ryou blinked stupidly at the news. The words failed to sink in.
"Yami... I mean, the Pharaoh's still out looking for clues, but, well," Yugi glanced to the side, "The guards reported someone that looked like you came up to them and demanded to be let in. They refused, and before they knew it, they were having horrible nightmares..."
Dread settled into Ryou's chest. He didn't say a word, casting his eyes to the floor.
"You know anything about this, Ryou?" Joey asked in a tone that was friendly enough, but Ryou could hear suspicion in the blonde's voice, "We know it wasn't you, but that sounds an awful lot like... y'know... him."
Ryou almost smiled at Joey's refusal to speak Bakura's name, as if doing so might bring bad luck or summon the thief himself. They never called Bakura by name. It was always Tomb Robber, Thief, Keeper of the Ring, or just an ominous pronoun. It was a name they were too used to associating with Ryou, after all, and he had only recently convinced them to forsake politeness and call him by his first name.
"Well, he was gone for a bit last night, but..." Ryou shook his head, "He... didn't have anything with him."
"Are you sure?" Yugi frowned, unconvinced. Ryou nodded automatically, and in the back of his mind, wondered why he was lying. He hadn't gotten more than a fleeting glance of Bakura, after all, and the other boy could very well have tucked the Rod in his shirt.
They had every right to suspect Bakura, and Ryou had no reason to protect him. In fact, he should have been at the forefront of their investigation, should have jumped at a reason to persecute the former spirit. Bakura had wronged Ryou more than anyone else; he had terrorized and tormented him as a spirit, and even as a supposedly reformed mortal, he swore and cursed and taunted Ryou at every available opportunity. Why not take the chance to get back at him?
Because he's there, and no one else is, a quiet voice reminded Ryou, from the back of his mind, And if they catch him, they'll take him away, either to jail or the Shadow Realm. And you'll be all alone again, and no one will have any reason to talk to you, ever...
Ryou grimaced inwardly, but he quickly shook himself and continued. "Besides, if he did want to return to thieving, why take just one item? Why not all of them? Or at least, an item that's easier to conceal..."
"We don't have time to speculate, Ryou. All we know that one of the most dangerous items is gone," Yugi said urgently, "Please, when you get home, see if you can find out anything. You're the only one that can get close to him. I know he's dangerous, and he'll be even worse if he's up to something, but I don't think he would hurt you."
Why wouldn't he? He hates me, Ryou replied silently, but nodded.
Yugi let out a sigh, "And if he is planning something, we have to stop him, soon. We can't let the games start up again. Too many people were hurt last time."
"I'll see what I can do," Ryou assured Yugi. "I'll go straight home after school." Like I always do.
"Thanks, Ryou, I knew we could count on you," the short boy smiled gratefully at him. Yugi and his entourage left Ryou to his lunch, still searching for witnesses.
Ryou watched them go, before looking at the cafeteria's kitchen and dismissing it. He still wasn't hungry.
---
As he made his way home, Ryou was torn between rushing home and taking his time. He wasn't eager to confront Bakura, but his curiosity was tormenting him. His rational side reminded him that Bakura might not even be home, but something in his gut told him the thief would be just where Ryou had left him.
Ryou quickly fumbled for the key to his apartment, unlocking it clumsily. He pushed open the door, looking around.
His gut was right.
Bakura was still curled up on the couch. One of his hands was clutching his forehead, pushing his frayed bangs up in several directions. He was staring down at his socks with one eye, and his other arm was around his knees. Ryou frowned, stopped dead in his tracks by the sight.
For all the world, Bakura looked... Ryou couldn't quite put a word to it. Anxious? Depressed? Sick?
Unwell...
Whatever his roommate was, he paid Ryou no heed, his blank gaze never faltering. Ryou's didn't either, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck as his eyes fell upon a wholly unfamiliar sight, a sight that indicated that something was very, very wrong.
From this angle, Ryou could see something he had missed in the morning; Bakura's shirt. It looked about three sizes too big, now, but that wasn't what was disturbing him.
It was the fact that the shirt was buttoned up, all the way to the collar.
In all the time Ryou had known Bakura, the thief seemed to firmly believe that buttons were there to be undone. Each time Bakura had taken over Ryou's body, the shirt he had been wearing was ripped open by the time the boy regained control. Every shirt Bakura had worn since getting his own body had been worn open and flared. He rarely bothered wearing a T-shirt underneath, if he opted for a top at all. The thief didn't possess an ounce of shame, always taking great pride in his appearance...
Until now.
Ryou's mind went spinning as it processed this revelation, adding to the mystery of Bakura's altered voice, and a change in size that he couldn't quite convince his mind, against all reason, to believe to be a hallucination.
It's getting into winter, and it is a little chilly. Remember, the last time he had a body, he lived in the desert. Maybe he's just cold, Ryou's internal skeptic suggested, putting a stop to his spiraling theories. He relaxed, shaking his head and heading to the kitchen. Though Bakura seemed oblivious to his presence, he wasn't about to gamble with his life just to see how long he could get away with his scrutinizing stare.
Either way, he's acting strange. I'd almost say he looked guilty, but I doubt the self-proclaimed King of Thieves would suddenly feel bad about stealing something, Ryou mused as he set a kettle of water on the oven and switched the burner on. He tried not to wonder about anything too much as he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a mug, and after some consideration, got another. If he was going to ask a potentially dangerous question, he might as well try to placate Bakura beforehand. He sprinkled chocolate powder into the mugs, pouring hot water into both as soon as the kettle started whistling. After stirring each mug a few times, he picked up the cups and headed back to the main living area.
"Hey," Ryou greeted softly, looking down at Bakura's despondent form. A pair of harsh red eyes slowly shifted their gaze upward to face him. They were glaring slightly, but Ryou had come to think that Bakura's scowl was a permanent part of his features.
"Wha-..." Bakura paused to inhale, "What do you want." It wasn't a question. The tone was flat, lifeless and ragged. Ryou frowned, made even more confused as he watched Bakura close his eyes and struggle to breathe as discretely as possible. He decided not to mention it, and held out one of the mugs to the withdrawn thief. Bakura flicked his agitated gaze towards the offered cup for a moment, then returned it to Ryou, unimpressed.
"It's hot chocolate," Ryou explained, before hesitantly adding, "You... You looked a little cold."
"I don't need anything," Bakura nearly wheezed, "Just go."
"Not until you take this," Ryou gently stood his ground, drawing upon a distant memory of the soft tone his mother used to get him to take medicine. Bakura's lip twitched, and Ryou expected the mug to be swiftly snatched out of his hand, only to be surprised when he felt a weak jerk instead. Bakura looked at it distastefully for a moment, before giving in and taking a tentative sip. Ryou smiled faintly and sat down on the opposite end of the couch.
Bakura looked up immediately. "You said you were going to go," he rasped accusingly, and looked uneasy about Ryou's proximity.
"I will," Ryou held up a hand, "I just wanted to ask you about something first."
"Leave me alone!" Bakura snapped, his voice breaking and becoming shrill in the middle of the demand. Ryou blinked and stared at him with a wondering expression. Bakura seemed taken by surprised himself. A shaken look crossed over his features, before he quickly clamped his jaw shut to prevent another such outburst. He doubled his efforts at glaring at Ryou, as though his uneven voice was the other boy's fault.
Ryou tried to ignore it and continued, employing the most diplomatic tone he knew. "Listen, something happened at the museum. The Rod was stolen and... well, we -- Yugi and his friends -- need your help figuring out who did it."
Bakura's lips peeled back in a snarl, his shoulders arching defensively. "Like hell they do!" he spat, his fingers grasping the mug until his knuckles were white, "You think I stole it."
Ryou sighed, seeing that his efforts were already failing. "The guards did report having nightmares after an encounter with a boy that could've been my twin," he admitted, glancing away.
"So I took the guards out! I didn't steal anything, why would I?!" Bakura's voice was becoming high-pitched again, and some detached part of Ryou's mind laughed at the fact the thief was reminding him of one of Mai's Harpy Ladies.
"Do I really need to answer that?" Ryou looked at his roommate with half-arched eyebrows, the slightest of smiles threatening on his lips. Bakura, however, was far from amused.
"Do I need to throw this cup of hot liquid at your damnable face?" Bakura retorted with fire in his eyes, and Ryou quickly held his hands up. When Bakura failed to scald him, he lowered them and continued.
"Okay, yes," he said, defeated, "You're the prime suspect as far as Yugi is concerned. But--"
"Pharaoh's pet should learn when to keep his mouth shut," Bakura interrupted with an ominous growl, and Ryou waited for him to finish grumbling before he quietly finished his sentence.
"...but I don't think so."
"...eh?" Bakura looked at him incredulously, caught off-guard.
"I don't think so," Ryou repeated in a slightly more confident tone, "You've incriminated yourself, yes. I mean, you are an accomplished thief, known to lust after the Millennium Items, and you broke into the museum the night one of the Items disappeared. But... I don't think you did it. I have no idea who did, and maybe I'm just being naive or foolish or whatever you'd like to call me, but it doesn't make sense to me."
Bakura was silent. Ryou had the distant, tickling thought that maybe, just maybe, he had somehow touched the thief with his trust. Maybe if he showed Bakura trust when no one else did, he'd show Ryou kindness when no one else cared. Maybe he'd finally realize that it wouldn't be such an awful thing just to be friends...
But a sneering voice cut through Ryou's fantasies. "Any idiot could see that all the signs pointed to me. But you, Ryou, are a special kind of idiot to fail to see even that."
Ryou blinked a few times, before sinking back sadly. It felt like Bakura's words had lanced something in his chest. The pain wasn't so much from the insult, but the fact that his faith in the other boy had obviously been hopelessly misplaced.
He was almost too wounded to notice that Bakura had not been sneering at him, but at the floor.
"So... you took it?" Ryou nearly whispered, addressing his own lap. The only reply was a stretch of silence, before he heard Bakura adjusting his weight.
"...I didn't say that," the thief murmured.
Ryou blinked and lifted his head, a drop of hope trickling into his heart, and was ready to start asking questions when his eyes fell on the cup Bakura held. He looked at his own mug, then back again.
They had identical cups, but somehow, Bakura's looked larger. As soon as he started looking, dozens of signs pointing to the fact that thief really had somehow gotten smaller suddenly seemed painfully obvious. The shoulder of his previously well-fitting shirt hung in the middle of his upper arm, and his upturned collar cast a shadow over his cheek. The cuffs of secondhand jeans that had always been too short for his long legs suddenly gathered around his ankles. The lines of Bakura's face seemed softer, his chin more pointed, nose smaller, lips fuller, eyebrows thinner. And his hands...
"Bakura, could you hold out your hand?" Ryou asked absently, too distracted by his examination to consider the wisdom of his words. Bakura looked up from his cup and furrowed his brow at the request, but humored Ryou and lifted his hand. Without a word, or a thought for that matter, Ryou brought his own hand forward and set his palm against Bakura's own, comparing them.
Fingers that were far too thin to belong to the thief rested against the top joint of Ryou's own fingers, and no higher.
It was undeniable. Ryou's hand was larger.
They exchanged looks. Ryou's was one of questioning bewilderment. Bakura's, however, resembled a deer caught in the headlights, or at least a deer who had just had some shameful secret brutally uncovered before his eyes. He could not argue with the glaring evidence, so the thief did the next best thing.
He panicked.
"Damn you! Get away from me!" Bakura practically screamed, flinging Ryou's hand away and backing away, trying desperately to disappear into the crook of the couch's arm. Hot chocolate spilled over the cushions.
"What happened to you?" Ryou tilted his head, not sure what to think. Bakura said nothing, scrambling off the couch, presumably headed for the nearest door that he could lock and hide behind. Ryou had too many questions to let Bakura escape again, though, and moved fast. Stupidly, he reached out and clamped a hand down on his roommate's now thin shoulder.
He really should have expected the blow he received as Bakura whirled around and lashed out at him, hitting him in the side. But there was something about it he never would have thought possible, not from his deadly, dangerous, darker half; not from the King of Thieves, who had probably killed men with his bare hands before; not from Bakura.
Bakura had never hit him before, mostly because Ryou had never been dumb enough to get within striking range. But despite the surprise, his hand didn't move from its place on Bakura's shoulder. He just looked at the thief, dumbfounded.
The kidney punch had stung and startled him, but that's all it did.
Ryou could see dread mounting in Bakura's eyes, disbelief flickering over his face as he gaped at his former host. He had probably expected the other boy to stagger backwards. Ryou certainly had. He swung his hand forward to strike Ryou again.
Ryou was prepared this time, and caught Bakura's wrist. The thief let out a strangled, protesting gasp as Ryou held his arm in the air, the boy he'd always called a weakling resisting all the force funneled into the attack without much more than a baffled expression. Ryou stared at his would-be assailant.
It was Bakura who stumbled back instead, and by the way he dropped several inches in height, Ryou realized that he had been standing on the tips of his toes. He could clearly see over Bakura's head, now, even past the huge, arched tufts of hair that rose from it. The height difference boggled him. Ryou didn't consider himself a tall guy, but now Bakura had to be about the height of the Pharaoh. Since Ryou was used to facing Bakura's chin when they were both standing, it was rather disorienting to have to look down to meet the thief's gaze.
He had never seen an expression quite like the one Bakura wore, not on anyone, and the thief's face was the last place he thought he'd find it.
Bakura looked like a wounded animal that had been backed into a corner, ready to kill and afraid for its life at the same time. Ryou could tell the ex-spirit was trying to be angry, trying to rage, and he half expected the Ring to materialize and draw monsters from the Shadow Realm to its master's defense. But Bakura was distinctly terrified, as though he'd been hit with some horrible revelation that shook him to his core.
Ryou was trying to figure out just what that was, when he became aware of a frantic tugging in his hand. Bakura's wrist was still trapped in the air where it had been caught, and could not break free.
Ryou opened his mouth to say something, when Bakura suddenly let out furious cry of frustration and launched himself bodily at his landlord. Now Ryou staggered, catching Bakura and balancing himself with a trained speed. Ryou could scarcely believe he was able to fend of Bakura's frantic assault with only learned reflexes, and if the thief's desperate expression was any indication, neither could he.
Bakura had never shown this much emotion before, not even anger, and his almost pitiful attempts at abuse made Ryou's heart heavy. Some phenomena outside the laws of science had obviously befallen the thief, stripping him of all his height, stature and strength. There was something else that seemed different about him, too, but Ryou couldn't place it, and Bakura started thrashing and swearing before he could dwell on it too long. He tightened his grip, and without realizing it, set his hands on Bakura's back in what dangerously resembled a hug.
The thief went still and silent, paralyzed by the nearly affectionate contact. Ryou didn't quite know what he was doing, just that he never would've dared to do it if he had given it any thought. Bakura was frozen in his arms, and Ryou could feel the thief's back muscles tense beneath his shirt, spine stiff as a board.
He shifted his palm, and could suddenly feel a strange, artificial ridge back there, uneven layers of something wound up around Bakura's upper back, below his clothing. A line of confusion creased over Ryou's forehead, and he wondered aloud, "What's--"
His captive suddenly came alive, drawing a burst of strength out of sheer desperation and shoving Ryou aside. Finally freed, he wasted no time, flying to front door of the apartment and throwing it open.
"Bakura, wait!" Ryou shouted, recovering from the shove and running after him, but the door was slammed soundly in his face. He could hear someone taking off down the hallway through the thin apartment walls.
He stared at the door, trying to comprehend what just happened. His mind juggled all of the new, impossible information it had gathered, trying to piece it together in some way that worked within the realm of logic. But how did one logically explain shrinking thieves? Or barely feeling blows that should have left bruises? Someone known for his cold confidence suddenly panicking and lashing out? Missing magical artifacts?
Despite all this, only one question really came to the forefront of his mind.
What's he running from?
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