Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Liberi Fatali ❯ Lilac ( Chapter 1 )

Liberi Fatali
by Fat Cat Buyo (/Lionheart)

Disclaimer: In no way do I own Yugiouu or any of the characters. I don’t own Egypt or even any of the songs that I randomly insert into this story. Oh yeah, and I stole the title from Final Fantasy VIII. Got any problems? Please contact me and I shall try to change them as soon as possible.

Summary: Bakura decides to find out about his tomb robbing past by traveling to Egypt. There, he meets a mysterious boy who said he’d house him and show him the pyramids, but for a small fee. BakuraxMalik. Takes place before Battle City, Yaoi, Lemon in later chapters.

Small note for those of you who follow the English dubs...

English name - Japanese Name
Bakura - Ryou
Yami Bakura - Bakura
Marik - Malik
Yami Marik - Marik
Ishizu - Isis
Odion - Rishid

There. That might clear up a few things. Rawr... *gets started*

*~* Chapter One *~*

Bakura yawned and stretched as he stepped off of the plane into the hot and stuffy airport. Six hours earlier, he had been in Japan with his hikari, Ryou. Currently, he was standing in an airport in Cairo, Egypt, feeling as if he were in an overheated oven, even if the air conditioner was on.

“Thank you for flying International Airlines. Please enjoy your stay in Cairo, Egypt.” A woman’s voice cooed over the intercom in English, French, Spanish, Japanese, Chinese and then Arabic. “If you would like to rent a car, please make a right at the baggage claim. All hotel reservations can be made at the same desk. The time is now 2:00 PM. Please, have a nice day.”

“Nice day, my ass.” Bakura growled as he headed toward the baggage claim, his leather man-purse slung over his shoulder. Once reaching said destination, he boredly watched the bags spin around and around until spotting his huge duffel bag. Grabbing it, he dragged it behind him, heading for a door.

Once outside, he flagged down a dirty, yellow taxi and climbed in. “Where to?” The man asked him in bad English. Bakura rolled his eyes and thought about it.

“What’s the nearest small village?” He asked, pulling on a pair of dark sunglasses.

“Well, there’s this small one just north of Cairo.” The man nodded. Bakura gave a quick nod and looked out the window and the bustling tourists.

“Good. Take me there.”

*~*

Paying the fare, he grabbed his suitcase and bag and looked around the small village. The bazaar was bustling with people. Wild chickens ran loose on the streets and little children ran to catch them or fought each other with wooden swords. Bakura’s left eye twitched, invisible to any onlookers. Some people did, in fact, stop to stare at the albino. It wasn’t very often when a pale, white haired man came to such a small town. Usually, the tourists stayed in Alexandria.

Rolling his eyes once more, Bakura walked into the crowds of dark skinned people and looked around for any kind of inn. Stopping a local, he asked him, in scratchy English, where the nearest inn was. The boy, understanding the word ‘inn’, pointed the way and then scurried off.

Gritting his teeth, Bakura grumbled and pushed his way through more people. They were all tanned, skinny and either bald or had very dirty hair. “I need to appreciate my home more when I get back.” He muttered in perfect Japanese before pushing back the cloth curtain leading into the inn.

The inn keeper looked at him funnily when he accidentally asked for a room in Japanese. Switching, painfully, to English, he asked once more, “Do you have a room available for me?” He asked, using hand motions to help with what he was trying to say. The inn keeper laughed and shook his head.

“No, we just recently ran out of rooms. There’s a bar down on the other side of town that will possibly have a room for you. Try again tomorrow night.” He smiled and shooed Bakura out the door. The white headed spirit seethed and trudged through the crowd once more.

Once reaching that destination, he pushed his way in and glared at the inn keeper there. “Room. Now.” He said, his eyes blazing. The inn keeper there just shook his head.

“A room will be available in less then five hours. Please, make yourself at home.” He said, indicating toward a door. There was dim lighting seeping under the cracks and he could see a trace of smoke. Approaching the door, he could even smell the smoke and hear the chatter of the locals and the distant clicking of pool balls.

Opening the door, the noise ceased as all eyes were on Bakura. He glared at the first person he met eye contact with and stalked over to a table. The tables were strangely set up for a bar, but he was used to them from tea houses back in Japan. There were low tables with pillows for chairs. Seating himself, a waiter scurried over and took his order as the noise slowly returned. The waiter returned shortly after with his alcohol and he sipped it, greatfully.

His eyes wandered over to the pool tables, where some interesting games of pool were taking place. The tall, muscular men loomed over the tables, dangerously, and practically sent the ‘white ball’ flying.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bakura saw someone move and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Covering his mouth, he eyed the average sized Egyptian boy as he sauntered over to the pool table. The boy looked around his age, with sandy blonde hair and tan skin. He was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a thin black tank top, showing off his nice arms. He was almost like a stick, but not as bad as most of the people there, who looked like pieces of papyrus with legs. Bakura snorted at the thought and took another sip of his drink.

The Egyptian boy leaned on his pool stick and joined some guys in a fresh game of pool. He smirked and said something in Arabic before shooting at the ‘white ball’. He sent three balls into the corner pockets and one of the men clapped. Bowing his head, he laughed. The rich sound filled the room, as all eyes were on this certain Egyptian; especially Bakura’s. To the albino, he was an enigma. He tried not to seem like he was staring at the young boy’s bum, but it was kind of hard to peel his eyes away from the skin hiding behind those tight jeans.

The boy looked back toward Bakura, his piercing purple eyes meeting the spirit’s brown ones and it was almost as if he had stuck his finger in a socket. Bolting up, he guzzled the rest of the drink and ordered another one. The boy smirked and turned back to the game. Bakura resumed his staring.

A low growl emitted from Bakura’s lips as a man walked up behind the Egyptian boy. Covering his mouth, he shook his head and took the drink from the waiter. The large man wrapped his arms around the boy, who in turn, leaned backward and rubbed his hand up and down the man’s thigh, lightly. Bakura would have gotten up and done something but the boy did something before he could even think about it. The tanned boy grabbed the bigger man’s crotch and squeezed until the man cried uncle, shrinking down to the ground. Turning around, the boy twirled the stick in his hand, repeatedly hitting the man over and over. Bakura’s mouth dropped open again and he had to close it himself.

Brushing his hands on his pants in disgust, he shook his head and shouted something in Arabic before walking over to Bakura’s table. He sat down across from the albino and gave him a heart melting smile. He asked him something in Arabic and it sounded... strangely beautiful coming from his lips. Bakura mentally smacked himself and shook his head. The boy looked at him strangely and then giggled.

“I don’t speak your language.” He answered, in Japanese. The boy sighed, relieved and then shook his head.

“Well I speak yours.” He answered back. Bakura’s eyes widened considerably.

“You speak Japanese?!” He asked, tilting his head to one side, uncharacteristically. Malik laughed and extended his hand.

“Hi. I’m Malik Ishtar.” He introduced, smiling. Bakura took his hand and shook it, lamely.

“Bakura.” He said, simply. Malik opened his mouth to ask him something, but closed it. Bakura watched as his eyes moved toward Bakura’s semi-expensive looking luggage.

“Staying here?” He asked, tilting his head.

Bakura shrugged. “Nowhere else to go. I’m here to... er... see the pyramids and read about some ancestors’ pasts.” He nodded curtly and met Malik’s eyes once more. The Egyptian smiled innocently.

“You could stay with me and my sister and I could give you free tours of the pyramids.”

Bakura’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”

“I’ll have a list of things for you to do prepared by tomorrow.” Bakura went silent. “What?! It’s not every day you get offered to get tours of the Egyptian pyramids from a local who knows them all like the back of his hand.” Malik crossed his arms over his chest.

“How can you trust me? You haven’t even known me for ten minutes.” Bakura raised one eyebrow at the Egyptian boy and reached for his drink.

“I dunno. Call it... a woman’s intuition!” He exclaimed, as Bakura spat his drink out, all over the wall.

“.... Fine.” Bakura grunted and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at the pool tables. Malik bounced up and down with delight and stood up, grabbing Bakura’s bags. The albino glared halfheartedly at the Egyptian and stood up, grabbing his own suitcase.

“Wow. This thing is heavy.” Malik said, weighing the bag in his hand as they walked out the door. The innkeeper stopped Bakura on his way out. Malik didn’t notice and continued walking out the door.

“Sir, your room ready.” He said, in extremely bad English.

“No, I’m fine. I’m staying with that boy.” Bakura said, and ran to catch up with his carry on.

“I wonder if my horse can hold this much weight?” Malik was asking himself as he pushed his way through the crowd with Bakura at his heels. Random people kept glaring at Bakura, half because he was running into everyone and half because he was so different. Giving them all the finger, he fell into step next to Malik.

“Wait, horse? Don’t you live here?” He asked, gesturing at all of the small, dried-mud houses. Malik laughed a little to himself.

“By Ra, no! I live out there.” Malik pointed toward the sea of sand and then they turned a corner, headed for the stables. There were a few horses tied up near a little watering hole. Grabbing a hold of a gnarled rope, he began to untie it. The horse attached to the rope was a brown and white mustang. Bakura eyed it and shook his head.

“Does it have a name?” He asked, looking up at the cloudless sky. Malik shook his head.

“Nope. He’s nameless. Brand new. My horses are always getting stolen.” He frowned and finished untying the mustang before leading him over to the edge of the village. The horse was bare backed, or in other words, had no saddle. Malik tossed the two bags onto its back and jumped on to the large animal. Bakura did the same and ended up falling flat on his face. Malik offered Bakura his hand and he took it, rather reluctantly, and let the Egyptian help him onto the horse.

“We’re gonna ride pretty fast,” Malik started, tangling his fingers in the horses mane. “Wrap your arms around my waist and lean over the bags. Try to keep them from falling off. And try to move with the horse, or else this will be a rocky ride.” Without any further warning, the horse took off full speed and left Bakura little time to get himself comfortable. Taking Malik’s advice, he held onto the boy for dear life and kept his weight on the bags.

The sand seemed to stretch for miles and miles, Bakura noticed, once he opened his eyes. The horse had slowed down, but not by much, and was still headed toward Ra knows where. “Up ahead!” Malik shouted, the wind carrying his message to Bakura’s ears. The albino spirit groaned and sighed, relaxing somewhat. Up ahead was a one story, but stretched out, house. It looked somewhat Hispanic, to Bakura, with the brown tiled roof and stucco walls. The horse slowed its galloping to mere trotting and Bakura sat up, still holding on to Malik.

A young woman with thick, but neat, black hair waved them over. He could feel her eyes on him and he gave her a nice, long glare. The horse approached her and Malik dismounted before helping Bakura off. The girl reached for the bags.

“Bakura, this is my sister Isis.” Malik smiled and motioned toward the black haired girl. She shouldered the carry on and dragged the other bag behind her toward the house. On one side of the house, a few yards away, was a desert oasis, with its lush trees and the distant sound of a waterfall. Bakura almost smiled.

Almost.

*~*

Once inside the house. Malik gave Bakura a quick tour. Three bedrooms, one living room, a kitchen/dinning room combo and a storage room. Bakura followed, nodding and grunting at the correct moments.

“Where’s the bathroom?” He asked, once the tour was over with.

“Oh, right. ‘Bathrooms’. Well,” Malik laughed nervously. “We don’t have any...” Bakura went silent. “There’s a water fall outside. We bathe there. And you can do your other business in a hole or something. There’s a faucet outside if you wish to wash your hands. I advise taking a bath in the middle of the day, when it’s at its warmest. Its chilly in the morning and really, really cold at night. As for sleeping arrangements...” Malik gave Bakura a nice lingering stare before heading toward his own bedroom. Bakura followed with nothing else better to do.

Pushing back the curtain leading into his room, Malik nodded toward Bakura’s bags at the foot of his bed. “You’re sleeping with me.” Bakura eyed Malik and then looked around the room with its blandness. His gaze wandered upward toward a light hanging over head.

“How did you get electricity out in the middle of nowhere?” He asked, only slightly interested.

“I put it in myself. We built this house, actually. Me and my sister.” The Egyptian boy ran his hands over the rough surface of the walls. “There’s a wire running under that’s hooked up to a friend’s house, so we help pay their electricity bills if they supply us with it.” He nodded once. Bakura looked at the small, one person bed.

“That won’t fit me. I’ll just sleep on the floor.” He grumbled. Malik gave a short, barking laugh and placed his hand on Bakura’s shoulder.

“Fine, and you can let the spiders get to you.” The grip on his shoulder tightened and Bakura shot a glare in Malik’s direction.

“I don’t care about any spiders.” He spat.

“Oh, you will, if you want to come out of this alive.” Malik smiled and let go of Bakura’s shoulder before exiting the room, muttering something in Arabic. Bakura sighed and sat down on the bed. The sun from the open window beat down on his back and he sighed.

“Maybe I should change...” He suggested to himself, but shook his head. “What in Ra’s name possessed me to only bring jeans and shirts?” Getting up, he took one last look at the bedroom before hurrying outside.

*~*

Whoo! Chapter one! It’s so hard doing two fanfics at once, when I love the idea for the other one much more than I love the idea for this one, but I adore the end for this one, and I like some of the stuff that goes on later on, so ENJOY! ^_^ And please review T.T It really makes me update faster if you want me tooooo~

Love,

Buyo