Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Heartless: The Life of Thief King Bakura ❯ Taste of Companionship ( Chapter 3 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Heartless: The Life of Thief King Bakura

- Chapter Three: Taste of Companionship

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The next morning, before the sun had even risen all the way, Rebekah and Bakari had left the quaint mud-brick home to report in the center of town along with every other citizen of Kuru Eruna. Bakura was the only one not required to be present, due to the fact that no one other than his parents knew that he even existed. The fair-haired boy stayed inside of his house, taking extra care to make sure he was unnoticed by any guards who might be patrolling the area.

The reason for this gathering was still unclear to the young boy. All he had overheard from the conversation between his mother and father were several minute details; Bakari had informed his wife that a group of soldiers from the Pharaoh's palace had arrived from the palace early in the morning and called for a census.

What a census was, Bakura had absolutely no idea, but he was aware of the fact that he would be left out of it, just as he was left out of everything else. By this point, Bakura was so used to being excluded that it had hardly fazed him. Besides, judging by the unpleasant look that his father had been wearing on the way to the census, the child figured he wasn't missing out on anything exciting.

He sat alone in a washbasin that his mother had brought into the room prior to leaving the house. The small tub was filled with water from the nearby river and Bakura's naked body soaked in the warm water, somewhat cramped due to the minimal space that the basin offered. Unlike the other citizens of Kuru Eruna, Bakura was not allowed to bathe down by the river; instead, one of his parents, typically his father but sometimes his mother, would fill up the basin and carry it back to the house, bringing it inside so that even his cleansing would go unnoticed.

Sinking below the water as much as space would allow him to, Bakura kept his nose at surface level so that he would still be able to breathe. He blew several air bubbles out of his mouth to amuse himself, giggling at the noise he could make.

After several minutes of this he became bored, and so decided to actually complete his bath. He did this rather quickly, using a small scrap of material to scrub away at his arms, legs, torso, face, and what little he could reach of his back. His hair he scrubbed with his fingers after holding his breath and dunking his head under the water.

By this point, the bathwater was no longer as clear as it had been when he first entered the basin. Bakura stood up and stepped out onto the straw mat, squeezing his long hair, colorless hair out and letting the excess water fall into the tub.

Once his hair was no longer dripping wet and the rest of his body was only damp, Bakura tied a simple loincloth around his waist and then ran from the tub in search of his favorite figurine. There was little else to do while his parents attended the census. With his mother gone, he couldn't even help with the household chores. And so the young boy entertained himself with his toys, setting up another battle scene between his affectionately-named Diaboundo and some of the older carvings.

Bakura didn't know how long he had sat there on the straw mat, talking to himself as he commanded Diaboundo to attack the antagonist in his game, but he was knocked out of his little world by the sound of crying.

Blinking his large eyes several times, Bakura stood up and cautiously made his way to the only window of the house, peering over the ledge and catching sight of what - or who, to be more precise - was making the depressing noise.

A young girl that he recognized to be Téana was curled up into a ball in the dirt road not too far away from Bakura's undersized home, tears streaming from her tightly clenched eyes. There was no one else around her, and from where he stood the white-haired boy couldn't determine what the reason for her tears was. Being the curious child that he was - and since he had no parents around to forbid him from doing so - Bakura quickly made up his mind to go and see what was troubling her so.

Though young, Bakura was not unintelligent. His mother constantly told him that he was just the same as every other boy in the village, but he knew otherwise.

Bakura recognized that he was different, and that it was his unusual silver-white hair that made him so. If his hair was darker in coloring, he figured that he wouldn't be such an ignominious son, and that his parents and fellow villagers would accept him.

Knowing all of this, the young boy made a smart decision: he would hide his true appearance, and therefore would not be shunned by Téana.

Before he went outside to console the brunette girl he quickly found one of his Rebekah's wigs, which was made from black wool. Carefully he placed the wig over his head, taking extra caution in making sure that all of his natural hair was properly concealed.

He grabbed his Diaboundo carving, holding it securely between his hands, and silently wished on it to give him strength.

After checking once more to see that the coast was clear, Bakura hesitantly took his first steps away from the mud brick home he had been confined to all his life. Gray-blue eyes widened slightly as he glanced behind him, staring at the dwelling and then falling back on the road in front of him. He started down at the dirt ground with amazement and excitement etched across his face, as if he couldn't believe he had actually wandered away from his house.

He took another step away, and then another, and another, until he finally reached Téana's side. Cautiously he lowered himself onto his knees next to her and after several moments she tilted her head upwards, the brown bangs falling away from her eyes. He could clearly see the pain in her eyes as she stared questioningly at him.

“Why are you crying?” he asked her, his voice laced with concern.

Téana was silent for several seconds, just looking at the boy across from her, and then she slowly revealed to him the cause of her hurting by removing her hands from around her right knee. There was a long cut across her knee - obviously she had merely fallen and scraped herself; it was nothing serious, but that didn't make it any less sore.

Bakura smiled softly at her. “Did you fall down?” When receiving a slight nod in response, he spoke again. “Don't worry, I'll help you.”

Gray-blue eyes positively glowed with happiness as Bakura removed the loincloth from around his waist, laying it down in the dirt beside him. He smoothed the light material out and then took the edge between his fingers, tearing off a long strip, which he then proceeded to use as a makeshift bandage for the girl's wound.

Because the injury was minimal, it wouldn't bleed a lot; the linen would more than sufficiently keep back any blood, and also keep the wound from getting dirty.

Téana looked down at the sloppy bandage job and then returned her gaze to the young boy, who was tying his loincloth around his waist again; it was several inches shorter now.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly.

When she didn't receive a response Téana studied the boy's face, and then her nose scrunched up slightly, her eyes, blue like the sky, narrowing. “Your eyes... they're like rain,” she murmured quietly. “Do you live here?” she suddenly in a louder voice so he could actually hear her. “I've never seen you before.”

The alabaster-haired boy nibbled thoughtfully on his lower lip, wondering what he could say since he obviously couldn't tell her the truth. If his parents ever found out he left the house, or that someone knew of his existence, they would be furious and he would surely receive a beating - something he did not wish to happen - so he had to keep quiet about his true identity.

“No,” he lied. “I live... far away.”

“Oh... My name's Téana.”

She smiled at him and held out her hand. He stared at the small appendage strangely, not quite certain what to do. Giggling, Téana took hold of his wrists and then stood up, hoisting the other to his feet in the process.

“My name's Téana,” she restated, pointing to herself to emphasize the fact.

Bakura blushed and looked away from her shyly. “I'm... B-Bakura,” he introduced himself.

“Bakura,” Téana tested out the name several times. “That's a weird name,” she decided; “but I like it.”

The coloring of the boy's cheeks darkened in embarrassment and he idly noticed that she was still gripping his wrists. Swallowing, he glanced back over into her eyes and quietly thanked her. “I like your name, too,” he said, earning a bright smile from the young girl. “It's pretty, like you.”

She started laughing, and Bakura's face fell. Noticing his crestfallen expression, Téana immediately stopped and shook her head, offering a friendly smile to cheer him up.

“I like you, Bakura. You're not like the other boys here,” she explained.

Bakura's gray-blue orbs lit up elatedly at the words. Téana liked him? The boy felt his heart beat faster in his chest at the thought, and right then he decided to ask Téana to marry him. But before he got the chance, a youthful and boyish voice interrupted him.

“Téana! C'mon!”

The brunette turned her head to look over her shoulder, spotting the owner of the voice standing not too far away. Bakura recognized it as one of the boys that the blue-eyed girl always followed around; he had brown eyes and light hair - Bakura wondered if one of his parents was from another land, since he had never seen another individual with blonde hair in Kuru Eruna.

“That's Jouno,” said Téana, noticing that her companion was staring at the blonde-haired boy. “He's got hair like sand b`cause his mother's from Greece.”

Bakura nodded, his unspoken question answered. He wished he had an explanation for his unnatural hair and eye color like Jouno did. Jouno didn't have to hide inside of his home because of his hair. Jouno probably wasn't considered a curse upon his family just because he looked a little bit different. Bakura found himself very jealous of the blonde-haired boy.

“Bakura?”

The young boy jumped as a dark-skinned hand was waved in front of his face.

“Do you want to play with us?”

Bakura's cloudy eyes widened at the invitation. Téana actually wanted to be around him? She really did like him, then? His heart skipped a beat and Bakura felt so happy for one of the first times in his life. Someone truly wanted him around.

Reality came crashing down around him as he heard older voices in the distance, recognizing one of them as his mother's own voice. If Rebekah was near, it meant that Bakari was not far behind. Bakura didn't want to be caught outside of his home, and if he went to play with Téana he would most certainly be punished.

“I-I can't. I have to leave. But... I-I'll try to see you again sometime,” he promised.

She smiled sadly. “Okay then. I'll see you.”

Téana turned and began to walk away, but Bakura caught her arm to stop her. She stared at him quizzically as he approached and held out his other hand to her, revealing a small wooden figurine.

“What?” she asked.

“Here.” Bakura took one of her hands and placed the carving of Diaboundo into the open palm, closing her fingers around the figure. “I-I made it myself... You can have it, to remember me. In case you don't see me again.”

The brunette raised an eyebrow, studying the figurine before crinkling her nose in distaste. “It's very ugly,” she told him honestly.

Bakura's cheeks flushed in humiliation. He knew the carving was nothing special, but he had worked hard on it, and it was his favorite one. “I... I'm sorry.”

She giggled and cradled the figurine to her chest. “I'll keep it with me anyways. B'cause you gave it to me.”

“Téana! Hurry up!” Jouno called out to his friend again.

“I'm coming!” Téana yelled back.

Smiling, she waved to Bakura and ran off in the direction of her friend. Bakura watched her go, wanting desperately to chase after her. Now that he had gotten a taste of what having a friend was like, he didn't want to go back to his life of confinement. But he knew he had no choice. Heaving a sigh, the white-haired youth turned around and begrudgingly made his way back to his house.

------

After the census Bakari had gone to only tavern in Kuru Eruna. Though it was still early morning and the man could think of better uses for his money than wasting it on alcohol, getting a reminder that Kuru Eruna (though self-declared as not part of the kingdom of Egypt) was still under the Pharaoh's control always put him in a bad mood. And what better way to nullify a bad mood than drowning it with beer?

The beer seemed to have the effect that he was hoping for, and several mugs later Bakari had forgotten all about the census that took place earlier that morning. He staggered back to his home, entering the small abode to find his wife pacing back and forth in a fretful manner. It was one of Rebekah's nervous habits, and it quickly got on her husband's nerves.

“What is it?” he asked her, eyes narrowing slightly.

Rebekah looked up, but refused to meet his gaze. She began to toy nervously with the ends of her hair, something she did only when there was something she wished not to tell the man.

Bakari repeated his question, and she gave a small sigh, knowing that it wouldn't be wise for her to disobey her husband's wishes. She gave him the answer he demanded.

“Bakura,” she whispered. Her husband raised an eyebrow, which she took as a signal to continue. “... He was not home when I returned from the census,” she explained.

Dark eyes widened and Bakari approached his wife, grabbing a fistful of her thick hair. “What? That little... Where is he now?”

Rebekah kept her gaze averted, not wanting to see the anger that was surely etched onto the other's hard face. She hesitated a moment before giving away her son's location. “The other room. He came back several minutes after I arrived.”

Growling in frustration, Bakari released his hold on the woman and briskly exited the home, appearing several minutes later with a leather whip in his hands. Rebekah's eyes widened at the sight of the whip.

No... Surely he wouldn't...

But he was.

Bakari stalked into the other room, finding the white-haired boy lying on his stomach asleep. Stepping over to the child, he kicked his son's side sharply. Bakura coughed, his gray eyes blinking open slowly and still clouded with sleep as they lifted to meet the livid orbs of his father.

“Father,” he said quietly, moving to stand.

His father stopped him by pressing a foot down on the boy's back, forcing him back into a prone position. Bakura squirmed, trying to get back up, only to have his father increase the weight placed on his back.

“F-father,” he tried again, wondering what was going on.

“Insolent child! Do not speak! How dare you even open your mouth after what you have done?”

Without warning Bakari removed his foot from Bakura's back, replacing it instead with the whip. The seven-year-old cried out in pain at the first lash against his unscarred skin, tears immediately springing to his eyes. There came a second lash and Bakura's body jerked unnaturally.

“Bakari, stop it!” Rebekah cried from next to her husband. “He's just a child!”

“He disobeyed my rules,” Bakari seethed, continuing to flay his son. On the ground Bakura was sobbing loudly, releasing a high-pitched squeal of pain each time the whip cracked down upon him. “I'll punish him how my father punished me.”

After two more flogs, Bakari was satisfied. He dropped the bloodied whip and exited the room without so much as a glance backwards. Rebekah was left alone to tend to the boy's fresh and still-bleeding wounds. Bakura continued to cry softly, curling his body into a tight ball despite the pain the action caused.

He managed to open one of his eyes, and past the wall of tears he could see his father's retreating back. Silently he wished the man dead.

Bakura never saw his father ever again after that, for come nightfall the world ended.