Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

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
- 7
- 8
- 9
This is over my head

But underneath my feet

'Cause by tomorrow morning

I'll have this thing beat

And everything will be back to

The way that it was

I wish that it was just that easy
I'm waiting for tonight

Then waiting for tomorrow

And I'm somewhere in between

What is real and just a dream...

~Lifehouse, 'Somewhere In Between'
Bakura's sleep was irritated by something twitching against her nose. She grumbled and tilted her head to the side, setting her cheek on the smooth, warm surface where her nose had been. But the faint beating was persistent, constant, like a pulse --
Her eyes flew open when she realized that was exactly what it was. She became aware of a weight on top of her head, breath flicking her hair back and forth. Someone was leaning against her bodily and had her trapped in a sleepy hug...
She jerked her head back violently, and Ryou's head fell onto the real pillow. He mumbled plaintively, but didn't stir, nuzzling into his new pillow instead. The thief stared at him with bated breath, slowly waking up enough to comprehend what was happening. A range of emotions welled up in her chest, and she didn't know which one to pick.
There was a sense of discomfort and unfamiliarity at the sensation of being forced into such close contact with someone. There was anger, at him for daring to impede upon her space so brazenly, at herself because she obviously had not woken up or discouraged him. Her first reaction was to try and thrash out of his grasp and get away from his suffocating proximity, but he just tightened his grip. With that came a growing horror as bits and pieces of her earlier nightmare replayed in her head, and she started to panic, ready to shove him away and run...
It's just Ryou, some more rational side of her brain reminded her, trying to quell her dread, It's just Ryou, it's just Ryou, it's just Ryou...
The internal mantra managed to calm her just enough to listen to its arguments. She knew her nightmare was a blatant mischaracterization of her roommate, but she couldn't shake quite shake off her fear. Her heart rammed against her ribcage.
And then, Bakura's mind chose to remind her of a more pleasant memory, for once. She remembered last night. The day had been a miserable waste, but as it stretched into night, Ryou became tolerable. She didn't know how or why he had subtly transformed, but he did, and because of it, they actually got along for once. It felt... different.
You've spent enough time in his head to know he's harmless.
It hadn't been so bad, listening and talking to him. It got her mind off her weakness, her frustration, and her horrible new body. Even if Ryou was physically bigger and stronger now, he still acted the same. It was hard to mistrust someone so soft-spoken and pathetic, especially when you knew their thought processes inside and out. And you know he doesn't know the meaning of the word lust. By the gods, he was too shy to even say 'sex'.
So she could just add 'clingy' to her growing list of insults for him. He probably wasn't even aware of his actions and would likely be utterly humiliated if he found out. It was late last night, you both just fell asleep. The idiot thinks you're an overgrown doll or security blanket or something.
Bakura slowly pulled her arms free and massaged the sleep out of her eyes, letting her breathing return to normal. She was too tired to throw a fit, anyway. Or had the better mood she had succumbed to last night carried on into today? When her vision cleared, she cast a scowling, uncertain glare at her bunkmate.
It faltered when she saw his expression of quiet happiness, a small smile on his lips. It was genuine, too, not the smile he forced onto his face in a pathetic attempt to cover up some silent pain. It wasn't something she saw often. His long, half-tamed white hair fell over his face, and if it hadn't been for his comparatively wider shoulders and thinner hips, he would have looked as feminine as her.
Ryou was pretty.
She'd never say it aloud, but she had thought it often enough, even when she was male. Dammit... why couldn't he have been the one to get turned into a woman? It'd certainly suit his looks and personality better, and I don't think I'd mind having a female version of Ryou in my bed...
A slight smirk crept across her face, until a lower, taunting thought flitted across the back of her mind, far less kind than the voice that had calmed her.
You don't seem to be minding this much, either, it pointed out.
She bristled, but it continued, undaunted. Look at yourself. You go from trying to attack him and throwing things at him, to letting him cradle you in bed?
Bakura set her jaw and tried to dismiss the thought. There's no need for me to act rash. I'm getting sick of being flighty.
Her internal antagonist was relentless. Still under the delusion that you're in control? You're still weaker than him and you can't necessarily predict him. He's obviously not that scared of you if he's doing this...
Anxiety trickled down her spine, but she became determined to ignore this grating voice. I shouldn't let him get so comfortable with me, no, but I know he doesn't mean anything by it.
The tone became more mocking. You know him? You trust him. True, he was a part of you when you were a spirit, but he's a completely separate entity now. You've never trusted anyone outside yourself, and you're going to break that millennia-old tradition? Just because he's quiet and pretty and nice?
Bakura seethed, quietly cursing the voice. She had been in her first decent mood for days before it started its annoying little jabs and skepticism.
It heard and was amused. I'm sorry, did I interrupt? Heh heh. So he has your trust. What are you going to give him next, hmm...?
Disturbed, Bakura muttered and leaned her head as far away from Ryou as possible. The voice was getting to her, whether she liked it or not. I'm sure there's some way to get him to let go without waking him up, and he'll never be any the wiser. There's no reason not to approach this situation calmly --
The voice that used to be her own laughed at her. Except for the fact you're entwined with your former vessel like a pair of sleeping lovers. Or were you too comfortable to realize that he's not just holding you?
Confused, Bakura glanced at Ryou, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. The crueler voice snickered. He doesn't even need to be your host to give your limbs a mind of their own...
Bakura quickly looked down and, mortified, saw just what it was talking about. During the night, her leg had crept up and hooked itself around the back of Ryou's knee. It had pulled his leg close, almost possessively, and tilted his hips so that they were snug and parallel with her own. He wasn't the one who had made their position seem questionable, she was.
She hissed in humiliated surprise, kicking her leg free and pulling out of his arms with a burst of strength, caution be damned. He started to stir, rubbing his head, and Bakura hastily stumbled to her feet. She winced as she stepped on fallen glass and broken valuables, but nevertheless made her way to the door quickly, relieved to find it open. Ducking through it, she fled to the living room and all but fell onto the couch.
Disgust and embarrassment roiled around her gut, joining with early morning hunger to make her feel ill. I need to find some way to change back, now. She poured all her energy and conviction into that thought in an effort to avoid thinking about anything else, clutching herself. This goddamn body is doing things to my head...
"Mmm... 'kura?"
Her thoughts froze at the sound of Ryou's sleepy voice, but didn't move her head, staring firmly at the back of the couch.
"You awake?" His voice came closer, and she could feel his shadow fall over her. She gripped one of the stray pillows on the couch, and did her best impersonation of a corpse.
When he set a hand on her shoulder, though, her shrill sound of protest betrayed her. Bakura jerked her shoulder away, turning her head to direct her deathly glare at him.
Ryou was too sleepy to be impressed, though, blinking down at her. He looked like he'd forgotten what he was doing. Instead, he tilted his head to one side lazily, smiling like a happy drunk.
"Sorry," he mumbled apologetically, though he was too out of it to sound sincere. Ryou sat down on the edge of the couch, right against her, and the smile never left his face as he stared down at her.
She dug her nails deeper into the pillow. What was he doing? Did he know what happened? What did he want? Bakura tried to swallow her heart. Her face felt hot.
"Didn't mean to fall asleep in your bed," he yawned, stretching his arms to the side, and opened one eye to look down at her, "Did you sleep out here all night?"
"Yes," she muttered quickly, hunching her shoulders and wordlessly demanding he get the hell away. Ryou didn't listen, too busy looking like a puppy delighted to have found its master. His hand ended up on her shoulder again, patting it absently. Bakura's irritation and anxiety grew with every fond touch, and she glared at him, incredulous.
His hand apparently got too heavy to lift, and he settled for idly massaging the area of her upper arm he'd chosen to victimize. Ryou seemed completely unaware of his hand's actions, focused his roommate and smiling tiredly. He was never a morning person, but being this much of a zombie was unusual, even for him.
And he was just staring. Was she wrong, earlier? He was a teenage boy, after all. In truth, she couldn't really gauge how he felt towards females, since he stifled himself with shyness and politeness. He was withdrawn from strangers or acquaintances of any gender. Maybe he repressed his reactions so tightly that even Bakura had not known what he really thought? Creeping revulsion crawled over her skin, but it ebbed when she willed herself to meet his gaze.
There was nothing but dopey happiness in his eyes. Maybe, in his half-cationic state, some part of Ryou's brain had mistaken her for his beloved sister or some long-lost friend. He swayed slightly, and looked like he might fall back asleep, and undoubtedly resume what she had so rudely interrupted earlier.
"Let go of me," Bakura finally croaked in a tone far less intimidating than she had intended. Ryou finally blinked out of his trance and removed his hand, and she let out a silent sigh of relief.
"Um," Ryou stuttered and stood quickly, rubbing his forehead. A pink flush washed over his cheeks, "S-sorry, I... uh, I'm going to go get dressed," he mumbled, jerkily motioning at the bathroom over his shoulder. He stuffed the hand that had been kneading her deep into his pocket. With that, he made himself scarce.
Bakura allowed herself to exhale, turning her head to look back at the inside of the couch. She studied the fabric halfheartedly, trying to shrug off a disturbing sensation.
The part of her arm Ryou had been fondling felt cold.
She muttered and rubbed herself there, ruffling the sleeve of the uniform top she was still wearing. Bakura glanced down at her clothes. It was the same outfit she had worn for... what was it, three days straight? She grimaced, shifting uncomfortably. The thief was not known for her hygiene, but even she felt grimy. Or was it just that the sensation of Ryou holding her seemed to cling to every inch of the fabric...?
She ground her teeth and pulled herself upright, sweeping her bangs back with an irritated hand. It was time for a change of clothes, then maybe a shower to wash away the lingering memories of the past few days. Maybe a fresh outfit and the water would clear her mind of these muddled emotions. Satisfied that she'd found a short-term solution, she made her way back into her room, walking carefully past the broken junk. She nudged things aside with her socked foot, forging a path to the pile of pilfered clothing that acted as her dresser.
Bakura sifted through the pile, tossing things that she recognized as dirty. Most of the clothing was Ryou's, articles she had found in the drier and taken for her convenience. The former spirit quickly grew tired with Ryou's bland, baggy clothing, though, and had managed to steal a few things on her old excursions.
She lifted up a pair jeans, which were still neatly folded and untouched. Bakura remembered stealing them from a department store not too long ago. She set them to one side, and came upon one of Ryou's loose, dark brown sweaters and scowled, wondering why she had taken that. The thief shook her head. It didn't matter now, and she quietly reflected that it would at least cover her up.
Bakura swallowed and retrieved a clean pair of boxers, shrugging off Ryou's coat. Almost automatically, she started unbuttoning the shirt she wore beneath, but she saw the long gouge in the fabric and hesitated. It took all her will to suppress the illness that welled up in her gut, and she realized the real reason she had not changed her clothes in days.
She did not want to see the full extent of what Malik's penalty game had done to her. It was bad enough she could feel the changes, bad enough that her arms felt thin and stripped of all their musculature and strength, bad enough that her hips felt considerably rounder, that her neck felt thinner, that her hands and feet were so much smaller, that bizarre weights pulled on her chest whenever she stood or sat or walked or did anything...
She didn't want to take off her clothes and find the nude body of some thin, weak young woman where her - his - body should have been.
But she couldn't wear these clothes the rest of her natural life, either. Bakura bristled at her own thoughts and shook her head. Not the rest of my life. This is temporary. I WILL find a way to defeat that wretch and get my body and my power back... until then, I'll just stay here.
With Ryou, that lower part of her brain added in a strange, purring tone. It was silenced with a growling snort.
She closed her eyes tightly and unbuttoned her over-shirt, flinging it on the bed. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and removed her third and final shirt, and felt the torn, useless bandages hang off of her chest. Bakura cringed and considered trying to salvage them, but it was hopeless. She dared to open her eyes by a fraction of an inch, pushing the layers of bandages away.
Oddly, the first thing she noticed was a long, thin red slash. The area was tender, and there was some dried blood smudged on her skin, but it was laughable compared to past wounds. Much more unsettling was the presence of her...
Breasts, Bakura drudged the word up from the unwilling recesses of her mind, hesitant to give a name to her new features, Breasts... goddamn.
They would have been fine if they hadn't been hanging off of her. They didn't seem like much, hardly large and probably far less obtrusive than Bakura thought they were. But as it was, they only served to remind her of her new body, every minute of every hour. They were there, keeping her up at night trying to find a comfortable position, making her feel like a naked whore, a glaring advertisement of her gender and all that it had to offer.
She shuddered and pulled on the oversized brown sweater at record speed, shaking her hair free and crossing her arms tightly. Bakura gathered her courage for a moment, before pulling down her old jeans. Her boxers sagged ridiculously, until they caught on her hips.
The thief didn't dare spare the changes down there a moment of thought. Though the absence of familiar anatomy was almost as irritating as the presence of unfamiliar parts, it was easier to deal with. Physically, at least. If Bakura had allowed herself to think about it, her surreal emasculation would have become painfully symbolic of her loss of power, but she was determined to concentrate on her desire for new clothes. She pulled them on, almost angrily, and relaxed as soon as her pants were in place.
And then her pants slid down, before reaching the apex of her hips. It was far too low down, and she would not be comfortable so long as her pants were any lower than her navel.
Bakura swore. Modern clothing and sizes were something Ryou had spent some time explaining to her, though she understood the basics by virtue of living in his head for a time. She didn't see the difference between men and women's jeans, and had to steal a lot of clothes before she found a size that was a sufficient combination of tight and comfortable. And even then, that size was no real indicator of how well they would fit. It just figured, that as soon as she thought she had mastered the maddening modern system of dress, she'd be 'gifted' with an entirely new lower body.
Jerking her pants up angrily, she stormed out of her room. Heedless of her anger, they swiftly sank back down to hug her hips. She glared down at them hatefully, yanking them again and failing to see Ryou until she crashed into him.
"Goddamn jeans!" She snarled into his shirt, cursing the wrong thing. The boy stumbled back in surprise, and seemed considerably more aware. Bakura blinked, smelling fresh shampoo and leaning her head back.
Ryou's hair was damp and held back in a ponytail, a feeble attempt to reduce the drips that fell on his shirt. With his bangs out of his face, he didn't look quite so feminine. Bakura frowned uneasily. She could almost deal with thought of Ryou touching and petting and hugging her if she could forget he was male, but...
"A-are you okay?" He blinked as she struggled with her pants and refused to look at him. She only hissed and looked up at him for a fleeting moment.
"Give me a belt," she ordered, and Ryou seemed to consider for a moment, scratching his cheek.
"I don't think I have any belts... well, the kind you mean, anyway," he added, sheepishly.
"I don't care what kind it is, just give it to me!" Bakura snapped, hiking her jeans up once again.
"It's not a normal belt, I mean, it's just --"
Bakura's fiery glare was enough to silence him, and he relented, sighing. He started towards his room, and she trailed him, impatient.
Ryou nudged his door open and headed to his bed, crouching down to peer beneath it. Bakura waited, leaning against the doorway and scanning her roommate's bedroom. It wasn't unfamiliar, since she had been here in Ryou's body plenty of times, but since they had become separate, there was no reason for her to be inside.
The walls and carpet were dark, and sunlight filtered in through a solitary window. There were no posters on the walls - instead, there were bookcases and desks. Books lay in piles across the room, his collection of Duel Monsters cards sat proudly on a desk, and a series of dead boxes and screens Ryou called a computer stood to one side. Bored and curious, Bakura wandered over to the cards, looking through them. She recognized most of them by picture alone since she had her own deck memorized that way, but plenty were unknown to her, and she stared at the stacks of symbols scrawled across the top and bottom in the vain hope that they might render themselves comprehensible once again.
A miserable look crossed Bakura's face. She felt stupid, and it was not a feeling she enjoyed. In her times, no one but the scribes had been expected to be able to read, but she had been living in a highly literate society for the past few years. The cards were readable to mere children, but they were now far beyond her grasp.
"Here it is, but I really don't think it's what you're looking for... Bakura?"
Ryou's voice shook her out of her melancholy. Defeated, she set the cards back down, lowering her head.
"What's wrong?" he wondered quietly. She heard his soft footsteps, sensed him approaching, but she did nothing save for stare at the desk. How could he see that anything was wrong? She was silent, simply standing there, and she was certain her face was emotionless. She knew her old host wasn't good at reading people, since that required looking at their face, and he was more apt to stare at their feet.
Ah, but he knows you... Her old voice snickered silently.
"Up until this point," she muttered aloud to interrupt it, narrowing her eyes at the cards, "I could blame all of my weaknesses on Malik."
A warm hand fell on her shoulder. "If it really bothers you that much, I could try to teach you how to read..."
Bakura's hackles raised at his offer, "You, my mentor? Don't insult me, I'll teach myself. And if you want to keep that hand, I suggest you stop touching me!" She flung his hand away, jerking free and turning to snarl in his direction.
Ryou stepped back, looking hurt. In his other hand, he held a long, cloth belt, made of a heavy purple material. It was void of any buckles, holes or decoration, until the end, where there were two black stripes. It's odd appearance was enough to startle her out of her anger, and she furrowed her brow.
"What kind of belt is that?"
Ryou glanced at the strip of cloth. "It's a gi belt... Those uniforms have really baggy pants, and it's also a symbol of rank."
The former spirit stared at him blankly.
"I... used to take martial arts," he added, sheepishly, glancing back at the plastic bin he had pulled out from beneath his bed. Bakura walked past him, peering at the contents of the box, which she had never seen before.
There were a few other belts, wound into tight little spirals, as well as some folded uniforms with the name of some dojo plastered across the back. But her eyes were drawn to what lay beside them; small trophies, of various sizes, the silver and gold glinting in the sunlight. Ryou looked embarrassed, and quickly put the belt back in the box, closing the lid and shoving it under his bed.
"Martial arts," she repeated the phrase, looking at him with stoic curiosity. The words rang a bell in the bits of memory she had borrowed from Ryou. "You fought?"
"I... well, yes, but it was mostly just display, all for sport, breaking blocks and performing katas and all that--" He mumbled dismissively, looking away. "It was a long time ago."
Bakura stared at him a long time, and he became uncomfortable, scratching the back of his neck.
"Why did I not know this?" She half wondered, half demanded.
"I was... well, I took it up after Amane and mother died, long before I got the Ring... after father and I started moving around the country, I fell back on my lessons, but when I did manage to take them... I was able to block you out," he finished softly. "They gave me confidence."
Bakura could hardly believe him. Where did he get the strength to block her out so completely, so much so that she remained ignorant about this secret life he led? He sat down on the bed, his head hung.
"I was good at it, I guess," he set a hand on his cheek self-consciously, pretending to attend to an itch, "If I had stayed with it, I could have gotten a black belt, but..."
"Why did you stop?" She frowned, still unable to comprehend the idea of her harmless little vessel being a trophy-winning fighter, "If you had those kind of abilities, why didn't you ever stand up for yourself in school?"
He was silent, and his features were lined with sadness and guilt. He shook his head slowly, and hair that had pulled free from his ponytail swayed before his face. He answered both questions at once. "I didn't want to hurt people."
Bakura almost rolled her eyes, but his voice sounded so wounded and miserable that she felt a twang of sympathy instead. "You idiot," she said, but it was quiet and lackluster. It explained a few things, though.
When she had first possessed his body, she loathed being saddled with such a thin, weak host, but she had quietly marveled at it after the first physical fight she had in it. It had reflexes it should not have had, and defensive moves that seemed trained into the muscles themselves. Back then, Bakura had simply chalked it up to her own ancient fighting ability, but now she wasn't so sure.
Must be how he knocked Malik out, too, she noted, looking down at him.
"I thought it was me making those people get hurt and disappear," he mumbled, "I thought it was me putting them into comas... I thought I was dangerous... I felt like a weapon."
Of course you were dangerous, she almost spoke aloud, but something held her back.
Why did her host seem so different now? Learning that he had the makings of a warrior was only the icing on a confusing cake. He seemed more talkative than he used to, more daring. He certainly never would have dared touch her when she was male, no matter how tired he was. He seemed more... comfortable around her, but in a way he himself also seemed more dangerous, more unfamiliar.
Maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do... perhaps you should have paid more attention to the boy you were possessing, instead of merely forcing him aside and stealing his body.
Still, he was Ryou. The new things she learned about him only made her more baffled, and part of her was still quietly afraid of him. But at the same time, he seemed warmer, kinder, more concerned and stupidly tolerant than ever, and she couldn't imagine why. She was weaker now - there was no point in him putting up with her screaming and name-calling. If Ryou had done a fraction of what she had, she would not have hesitated to put him in his place, to crush his spirit and make him submit. Had she left such an impression on his mind that he didn't dare turn against her?
Or maybe, just maybe, the voice sneered, Maybe he's telling the truth. Maybe he really does care.
Bakura watched him sit on the bed and try to smooth out the deep, trembling frown the painful memories had brought to his face. A week ago, she would have laughed in his face and ridiculed his emotions. But he had been silent when she cried, so the least she could do was repay the favor. Especially considering she had been the one to give him this particular piece of mental trauma.
And maybe you're starting to care, too.
"Feh, stop that," she instructed in a low tone. Almost unconsciously, she sat on the bed beside him. He turned his head away from her, but she could hear his breath hitch slightly despite his efforts. Bakura couldn't understand what was wrong with him. Hadn't he been grinning like an idiot moments ago? Seeing him like this bothered some part of her mind she couldn't name. Agitated, she reached out and shook his shoulder roughly. "I said stop that!"
Ryou slowly turned his head to look down at her. His eyes were clouded with tears, misery dragging his features down even farther. "S-sorry..."
Bakura blinked, and felt herself frowning. She gave his shoulder another shove, but somehow it came out far more gentle than she wanted. Ryou swayed, confusion joining his sadness. He didn't know what she wanted. She scowled when she realized that she didn't, either, until her old voice whispered it to her.
It's quite touching that you want him to be happy again, but do you honestly think you can bully him into it?
"I suppose I don't really need a belt," she mumbled and looked at her pants, eager to interrupt the awkward moment. She heard Ryou sniffle, and they were both silent.
"Is that my sweater you're wearing?" he wondered in a slightly ragged tone.
"Yes, have a problem with it?" she replied defensively, pulling the sweater in question down.
"No, not at all," Ryou sniffed and smiled faintly, "I've just... never seen you wear a sweater before."
"So?" She narrowed a skeptical eye at him. She could tell that wasn't what he wanted to say.
He shrugged limply and trained his eyes on his feet, mumbling. "...it looks nice."
Bakura's only response was a disbelieving silence. Her mouth opened, but when she realized she had no words, she closed it again. Part of her felt strangely insulted and indignant at his comment, and she almost said as much when a stray thought stopped her.
Just because you're repulsed by your body doesn't mean he has to be. Maybe Malik was right, eh? Your long, wild white hair, your red, slanted eyes with lashes that were long even as a male --
"I don't mind you borrowing my sweater, but, um," Ryou's voice thankfully cut into her thoughts, "We... well, maybe we should go out and get some new clothes for you, maybe some, er, underwear. I mean, we can't exactly keep sharing a wardrobe..."
Bakura stood up, taken aback by his suggestion. "Do you expect me to stay like this?!" she shrilled, horror sinking into her chest. She didn't want to entertain the thought that she would remain female for even a moment. She did not want to buy new clothes for her new body, that would signify that she was starting a new life. She did not want to wear women's clothing, she didn't want to get used to new kinds of underwear, and most of all, she did not want to 'look nice'...
Ryou grimaced and held his hands up, shaking his head, "It was just a suggestion, I mean, we only have to get enough to last for as long as you're changed-"
But his defense fell on deaf ears. She stood up. "I am not going to wear things like that! Why the hell can't we keep sharing clothes?! Nothing's changed!"
"D-don't you want something that fits better?" Ryou asked shakily, motioning to her pants.
She growled, clutching the waistband of her jeans. "These are fine! " Bakura lied. The pants were not exactly comfortable, since they hadn't been sized to accommodate hips which were designed for birth, but they weren't torturous. "So they're a little low, that doesn't mean I have to go out and dress up like a wench!"
Ryou stood up, shaking his head and reaching for his panicking roommate. "I'm not talking about buying you a prom gown, Bakura, just some jeans and boxers of your own -- you, um," his eyes flicked to her chest for a fleeting moment, "You might want a bra, too..."
She hissed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and hoping that her humiliated blush wasn't obvious. His face crinkled with guilt as the thief backtracked away from him. "We don't have to go anywhere fancy, there's a mall with plenty of clothing stores a few blocks away."
"I am not going out in public! I'm not going to wear -- I'm not going to let them see -- don't look at me like that!" Bakura tried to catch her breath in the midst of her sputtering rant, and found a knot her throat, "I-I don't want... I don't need clothes..." Her voice hitched violently, and she covered her mouth, her glare becoming desperate and bleary.
Ryou looked at her sadly, but this time, his sadness was for her, not himself. For a long moment, the only sound was Bakura's strangled choking. Ryou took a tentative step towards her, and she poised to lunge for him.
"Bakura, please, calm down..." he pleaded, tilting his head and coming within her range. She swung out wildly at him, but he managed to catch her fist, shaking his head, "This isn't a problem you can solve with denial and violence. You're just hurting yourself..."
Bakura thrashed and kicked at him, snarling unintelligibly. Ryou winced as she assaulted his shins and pounded his shoulder, but took the beating with closed eyes. She attacked him like he was the source of all her problems, and he just stood there, waiting for her to wear herself out. His silence only fueled her rage as she lashed out blindly, too teary-eyed to aim her punches, but each haphazard strike drained her. It took too much energy to cry and attack him at the same time, to try and push back all these unfamiliar emotions, to ignore the taunting, teasing voice in her head. She soon sagged and slumped against her former vessel, and felt him catch her shoulders.
It wasn't quite a hug, but it was close. Bakura was too mentally exhausted to fight him off, though, her tears running into his shirt. She dug her fingers into the cloth, prepared to shove him away, but she couldn't will the strength out of her thin, weary muscles. She was left gripping his shirt, winding her fingers into the material until her knuckles were white.
"Just go away," she mumbled in a raspy whisper, even as she clutched his shirt and hung her head, inadvertently setting her forehead on his shoulder. Ryou tightened his grip for a moment, before removing his hands with some hesitation, stepping back. Without a word, he gently pried her hands from his shirt and turned, leaving the room.
Bakura blinked stupidly after him, watching him go. Since when did he heed her commands, just like that? He hadn't so much as shaken his head. What had she done differently?
And why did a sharp sense of loneliness stab her in the chest as soon as he left?
"Ryou!" she cried out plaintively at the empty air, in a tone that was both demanding and pitiful.
Listen to yourself. How pathetic, mewling for him like a lost kitten.
Bakura covered her mouth to prevent any more outbursts, furious, agonized and confused. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was the presence of her old host suddenly so important? When she was male, she had ignored his existence until it was time for him to make supper. Whenever he tried to reach out to her, she had either laughed and insulted him, or got angry and insulted him. He had never been more than a pest, tolerable only because he provided food and information.
Granted, he had been a pretty pest...
A soft wail threatened to leave Bakura's throat, and she kept her hands clamped over her mouth soundly, sinking helplessly against the wall. The last things she wanted to remember were the thoughts of her old host that had crossed her mind occasionally, usually late at night. Egyptian culture had no specific taboos against homosexuality, and Bakura wasn't one to give a damn about what society thought anyway. Being granted with a teenage body meant that she once again felt the demands of testosterone-fueled, adolescent virility, though she had managed to keep a tight clamp on her hormones. Still, the thought of seducing her landlord was almost irresistible. The only thing that kept her from doing it was that she felt loathe to give that much attention to such a weakling, a weakling she had worked long and hard to keep distant.
"Bakura?" Ryou's voice drifted into her thoughts, and she jerked to attention. Ryou stood in the doorway, holding a plate with bacon and toast sizzling on it.
"I thought you might feel better if you had some breakfast," he said sheepishly, walking over to where she had curled up against the wall. He kneeled and smiled, offering the plate with one hand and a fork with the other.
Bakura stared at the food, her stomach growling at the sight and smell of the greasy meat. She was starving, apparently, but had been too upset to know. How the hell had Ryou? Dumbfounded, she took the plate and channeled her frustration into the bacon, impaling it on her fork.
Ryou sat beside her, watching her eat. She was slightly uncomfortable with this, especially considering her earlier thoughts, but she was too focused on eating to be bothered. His words rang in her head. You look nice...
Bakura swallowed hard and glanced at his eyes again, dreading the thought of seeing that hungry shade of violet... but once again, there was nothing but appreciative happiness, probably just glad that she was enjoying his cooking. And as she bit down on the last scrap of toast, she had to begrudgingly admit that she did feel better. She had new clothes, food in her stomach, and had aired out her emotions with a combination of tears and violence.
And you have your precious Ryou. Heh.
She winced down at the plate, setting it aside. Maybe some fresh air wouldn't hurt, either. Bakura closed her eyes.
"Fine, I'll go," she muttered, and Ryou smiled even more. "But," she interrupted in a warning tone, "if I see any hint of Pharaoh or his cheerleaders, I'm leaving. You understand?"
Ryou nodded eagerly, gathering up her plate. "Why don't you go take a shower, and I'll get my own breakfast and see how much money we have to spend, okay?"
Bakura shrugged dismissively and stood. She was not looking forward to taking a shower, but somehow, things didn't seem quite as bad as they had been moments earlier.
Ryou patted her shoulder, and for once she did not mind.
---

Note: The 'he doesn't need to be your host to give your limbs a mind of their own' comment comes from the Monster World arc of the manga, where Ryou (and his evil, uh, friend) were introduced. Bakura was playing a RPG game with Yami and friends, and Ryou managed to screw up a dice roll by taking back control of one of Bakura's hands.
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