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Powerless	By : Ochodre Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Het - Male/Female Views: 2660 -:- 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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Author's Notes: Another fic idea that really came out of nowhere and took on a mind of its own... But I'll warn you guys right up front that though the pairing is Ryou x Bakura, this fic is not true shonen-ai. This isn't because I'm 'afraid' of yaoi or anything, dude. o_O Bakura fangirls will kill me.
I probably won't post this all today. The whole story and links to art for this story can be found on my FF.net profile: http://www.fanfiction.net/~Ochodre
Anyway, I decided to post this on AFF since I think it's dark enough to warrent it and because I think I'm posting the sequel here. It really is an R fic, there's no sex anywhere, sorry dudes. Just swearing and attempted rape and some other dark stuff.
Yes, this is a genderbending fic, but I'm going to try my best to stay away from all the stereotypes and cliches. I'm trying to remain true to both characters and canon. It was canon that inspired my way of giving Ryou and Bakura seperate bodies and making Bakura slightly less villianous, both the way Yami tends to 'strip the darkness' from foes he defeats (ie, Kaiba, Malik).
Yami Malik's character is inspired by the dub version. He actually seems more coherent, calm and collected than Malik, focused on being as evil as he can without conflicting emotions to distract him. I dunno if this is any different from his Japanese counterpart, but either way, he's a sick bastard in this fic. Aside from Malik, I'm also using all the dub names in this.
The gender-bending isn't gratuitous; Yami Malik just did it to drive his humiliating point home. He doesn't just make Bakura female, he makes him physically small, weak and, as the title says, powerless. I'm not implying that females are weak, the whole moral of the fic is about inner strength or something sappy like that. Bakura isn't inordinately emotional because he's suddenly female and 'has hormones', but because he feels as though all the strength he prided himself on is now gone, and is more or less having a psychological breakdown. Ryou isn't just spontaenously drawn to Bakura because Bakura's now a girl, but because he's no longer quite as intimidating and actually seems like more of a human instead of a prick. He isn't weak just because he's female, but because Yami Malik's made intentionally made his body rather thin and flimsy.
Warnings: Like I said, this fic contains genderbending, so please don't flame me if you don't like that; I warned you fair and square. There's also attempted rape, and a few scenes where Bakura does lash out physically at Ryou - but he doesn't do much damage, to say the least, and I'd hardly call it abuse, more like misguided self-defense.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or ideas. I don't own the lyrics either; those are just songs that reminded me of the chapter.
---
'Cause this life

Is too short

To live it just for you

But when you feel

So powerless

What are you gonna do?

~Nelly Furtado, 'Powerless'
It was a cool night.
The chill permeated the walls of the museum, sinking into the smooth marble. The stone, metal and jewels that filled the room did nothing to take the edge out of the air. Darkness hid the colors of gold sarcophagi and sandy rock, robbing them of all the warmth of their homeland. It left only the shadows of carvings, arcane hieroglyphs and montages left to guide the deceased through the realm of the dead.
The only person in the museum didn't mind the Egyptian symbols. Though they were as unreadable to him as anyone else, they were far more familiar. He didn't mind the cold, either. It reminded him that he was alive.
Again.
He stood outside the central exhibit, a huge stone tablet encased by glass. Seven distinct slots were carved into its surface, for seven distinct items. Five of the spaces were filled.
Bakura set his hand on the glass, having ducked under the red velvet ropes that surrounded the exhibit without a second thought. He stared at the golden items, nestled firmly in their respective slots, and the stylized eyes of the magic relics gazed back. Part of his mind was uneasy at the lack of a sixth item, knowing the seventh was securely around his own neck. But he had to admit that the stray item was safe, despite its absence. As strange as it was to admit it, that was good enough for him, now.
Now that the Shadow Games were over, the Millennium Items could rest in peace. They had had many guardians and keepers over the millennia, and finally, the job was rightfully his.
With the items at rest, so was his family, and all those that had been sacrificed at their creation, becoming an inexorable part of the gold and magic. That was all he wanted when he first set out on his quest to avenge his town, centuries ago. Now, after the Pharaoh had stripped his soul of ages of corruption and bitterness during their final confrontation, it was all he wanted again.
Bakura almost felt as though he should have died, once the revenge he lived for was rendered null by the truth, once the items were finally safe and secure in a single place, once his burning hatred, anger, and madness were swept away by the Pharaoh's penalty game. Instead, they were both reborn, given bodies of their own. Perhaps Fate felt that the normal course of their lives had been upended by Shadow magic, and gave them a chance to continue what they had lost. Bakura didn't know, and he doubted the Pharaoh understood it completely either. He smirked.
Even if he was no longer the darkness, he and the Pharaoh would always be rivals. No amount of magic could change that. He was still mistrusted and avoided by Yugi's friends, and the Pharaoh had made him vow with his blood to never misuse the power of his Millennium Ring, since he refused to part with it. He kept his oath.
Most of the time.
So what if he had sent the museum's guards to the Shadow Realm for a short visit? They'd be awake within the hour and dismiss their experience as nothing more than a nightmare. He could usually pass himself off as his former host, granting him unlimited access during the day, but they refused even him at night.
They had no right to keep him away. This was the closest thing he had to a sanctuary.
His landlord was a landlord in the true sense of the word, now, since he had been forced to take up residence with the boy he used to terrorize. That same landlord had been annoying him again, trying to get him to talk or play a game or something equally useless. The kid was still pitifully lonely, and Bakura refused to humor him, seeking out the solitude of the empty museum halls.
The thief did not understand the boy. No matter how verbally abusive Bakura became, no matter how much food he tossed or how many things he broke or how standoffish and rude he was, Ryou still treated him like an honored guest. Bakura suspected the boy might still be scared of him, and he snorted. Good. Let him be scared. Ryou should learn that people have no use for quiet weaklings who all but throw themselves on the floor before others as eager doormats. Perhaps then he would grow a backbone.
Or was it just that the idea of someone being nice to him was so alien to Bakura that it confused and agitated him, making him uncomfortable and prone to snapping and stalking off to museums to brood? Was he worried that, without his darkness, he would become a soft-hearted sap like the Pharaoh if he didn't try his hardest to push Ryou away? Maybe he was the one who was afraid...
Bakura bristled and quickly derailed that train of thought, muttering angrily to himself and pulling his hand away from the cool glass. He idly wished he had brought his coat instead of just a blue short-sleeved shirt, but he had been in no state to remember something so rational when he stormed out of the apartment. Besides, he had only had this body a matter of months. Remembering things like keeping warm were concepts he had to re-learn after an eon of being a spirit.
But he could never have anticipated that the temperature of the room would drop so suddenly, as though some sort of villainous force had just entered it. His back itched with the sensation that evil eyes were boring into it, but he brushed it off with a quick shake of his head. No one could sneak up on --
CRASH!
Bakura just barely leapt back in time, getting tangled in the velvet ropes.
A piece of the tablet had been chipped by the impact, and glass littered the floor. A rock tumbled to the bottom of the display.
Bakura whirled around to face the intruder, a snarl on his face, his Ring already glowing beneath his shirt. Who dared to desecrate his sanctuary?
A dark, bulky form strode on long legs as it approached him, obscured by a heavy cape. Dead, violet eyes glinted in the darkness, wild blond bangs falling before them.
"Well, if it isn't the spirit of the Ring," a low, amused voice murmured, "I'm glad to see you're still in one piece... I did wonder how you were doing after our last encounter."
Bakura was silent, then growled as recognized the interloper, "I thought Pharaoh defeated you, vermin--"
"He's defeated you several times, if I do recall correctly," Dark Malik cut in with a sneer, tilting his head to the side, "but you're still here." His voice dropped, and he unexpectedly reached a hand out, gently brushing the slightly shorter thief's bangs back, "And still using that pretty little host of yours, I see. Or did you get reborn, too, and just chose to look like a woman...?"
Bakura hissed and flung the Egyptian's hand away, mind racing for an explanation. Had Malik's dark side come back somehow and taken him over again, or did the closing of the Shadow Games give him his own body as well? Either way, he had no Millennium Item, and he was without the centuries of practice and absorbed magic of the thief.
"I suggest you return to whatever dark pit you crawled out of, psychopath," Bakura threatened, the Ring materializing outside his shirt, "You're still a weak manifestation or a weak mortal, and either way, you're powerless against me!"
"Please, call me Malik," Dark Malik leered, introducing himself with his host's name, "and allow me to differ."
Abruptly, he swung a broad arm at Bakura's head, taking the thief by surprise and causing him to stumble to the side. It had been a long time since anyone had attacked him physically.
He recovered quickly, though, and turned to face his assailant, his hand going for his deck of cards...
But he was too late. Malik had already reached into the display and snatched the Millennium Rod, which was quickly set aglow. He held it out, pointing it at Bakura.
"Now, I think we already know what will happen if we go through this again," Malik chuckled, "Simply let me take what is rightfully mine, and I'll let you leave with your entire body this time."
Bakura's anger flared dangerously as the words hit a sore spot. "Don't you dare speak of having rights to the items to me," He pulled out his deck, "I am their guardian now, and I'm going to finish what that useless Pharaoh couldn't!"
Malik only seemed entertained by the outburst, shrugging nonchalantly. "If you insist."
"And you'll have no God Card to help you this time," Bakura smirked, shuffling his cards.
"Trust me, thief," Malik's eyes glowed with a combination of hatred and insanity, "I won't need it."
Bakura's lip twitched, and his smirk vanished. The shadows of the museum started to twist, coalescing around them in a cloud, and he tried to reassert himself, "When I win, you will be sent into the other realm for all eternity, and never again set foot in the physical world. There, I'm sure my monsters will have fun tearing you apart..."
Malik just laughed, his face spreading into a deranged grin. "I'm sure, tomb-robber." He snickered, before bobbing his head to the side in a morbid, inhuman gesture of curiosity, his tone shifting abruptly, "You like to talk about the weakness of others, don't you?"
Bakura didn't answer, his metaphorical hackles rising as the stage was set for the Shadow Game, something that never should have happened again. Just this one last time, Bakura assured himself, it was necessary to tie up this loose thread, to get rid of this nuisance once and for all...
"After I get through with you, pretty thief," Malik continued, lowering his head and smiling mysteriously, "Well... let's just say you'll have no room to criticize them."
Bakura narrowed his eyes, and the duel began.
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Powerless