Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Paranoid ❯ White World ( Chapter 1 )

DICLAIMER: I DON'T OWN YUGIOH! THIS STANDS FOR ALL CHAPTERS.

 

IMPORTANT

 

This story is about Marik, in general. You'll find out what I mean in later chapters. It is (not the yami) MARIK/BAKURA, so if you don't like it, then just get out.

 

NO FLAMES ACCEPTED

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enjoy the first chappy!!!

 

 

 

 

“Ha! How unfortunate for you, Pharaoh! Once again, you have failed to recognize my strategy!! Rest assured that this was your last mistake!!”

 

Gems of ruby-violet narrowed in anger. Platinum-blonde locks of hair swooped around with the wind and his teeth bit down on his red, swollen lips yet again.

 

“I won't let you win this, Marik!” the King of Egypt roared, his youthful voice contrasting to his aged personality. “You will never have the chance to destroy more lives!”

 

Soulless lavender orbs constricted in mockery. Sun-kissed skin tensed and relaxed spasmodically. Veins started popping out on the man's jaw and forehead, as his tongue came out in a leer towards his opponent.

 

“Ooohhh…I like them feisty…let me hear you screeaam….Let me hear you cryyyy…”

 

“Stop these mind tricks! Make your move, Marik!” the commanding voice boomed.

 

A sickening smirk came after that. The tanned man's eyes momentarily flickered to his left, to look at something…

 

“I'm not what you call `Marik'…” his veins throbbed on his chin “I am the dark spirit that lives inside him…I've told you before, `ou-sama' (your highness), but you don't seem to understand…HE is the one called `Marik'…but not for long”

 

The Pharaoh turned to look at where his opponent was pointing. Sure enough, there was a person hanging there, his body slowly fading away and dissipating as smoke. It was Marik's good side…The REAL Marik Ishtar.

 

“Then be gone from his body at once, you fiend! Release his soul!” The King barked harshly.

 

The unknown duelist slid out his tongue and used it to make another rude, suggestive movement. Then, he drew it in again abruptly, and plastered a demented grin on his face “Not until I break you…Pharaoh…you and your pathetic little group…and then…I will use your power…TO CRUSH THE PLANET INTO OBLIVION!!”

 

“Marik…Brother…” a woman with black hair and a long white cloak whispered anxiously.

 

“My Master…I know you can do it…I know you have the strength to defeat his evil!!” A tanned, bald man murmured to the fading body of what once was his Master.

 

But the eyes of the crushed figure would not open…Soon there was only one side of the man's face…the rest had vanished into darkness. Suddenly, most abruptly, a voice was heard…A voice that echoed above all others…

 

“Mariku!!” the mystery person shouted, and the demented spirit in the Egyptian's body turned to the newcomer.

 

“What do YOU want? I thought I'd gotten rid of you already!!” the psychopath commented, as he recognized the stranger from last night. Proud, arrogant eyes…white hair with a hazy lilac tinge to them…scinny frame…

 

“Mariku!!” the person shouted again with his commanding, dark voice. “Snap out of it!!”

 

The demented man's eyes narrowed. “Didn't I send you to the Shadow Realm? What the hell are you doing here? And why the hell are you calling me that?”

 

But the gleam in the stranger's eyes would not change or waver. The white-haired boy opened his mouth yet again “Mariku! What's wrong with you? Open your eyes! Mariku!”

 

A harsh bark came from the duelist. “Open my eyes? I'll show you open eyes!!!”

 

The lavender-eyed man quickly grasped the golden scepter that was held tightly in his belt. With a harsh, rough movement, he pulled it out and pointed it at the thin boy in front of him!

 

“To the Shadows! One more sacrifice!” The maniac cried as he released his ancient magic towards the poor boy. “DESTROY HIM!!”

 

But the Egyptian was about to be surprised yet again, for his magic seemed to have no effect on the other boy whatsoever. In fact, he could sense no magic power come from his Millennium Rod.

 

“Mariku!” the voice yelled again, more urgently this time “It's me! Bakura!”

 

Violet eyes seemed to narrow in an effort to remember. At once, all these sounds echoed in the demented spirit's ears.

 

“Your move!” the Pharaoh spat harshly.

 

“What's goin' on?” that mediocre duelist murmured.

 

“Yugi!” A girl with blue sapphire eyes whispered.

 

“Aibou!!” the miniature version of the King screamed from his hanging, sacrificial position.

 

And above all the voices, only one stuck out, impending and stormy…”Mariku!!!” it yelled.

 

The crazed spirit buried his pounding head in his hands and blinked his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And opened them again.

 

White walls were all around him, and his vision was quite blurry. He couldn't distinguish faces or figures…but he could still hear voices.

 

He could still hear THAT voice.

 

“Mariku! What's going on?! Are you all right!!?? Can you hear me now?” the voice asked in a frantic tone.

 

He felt someone shake his shoulders violently, trying to free him of his trance. He blinked silently, and tried to register what was happening. His vision was slowly coming back and now he could understand that the poles protruding from the ground around him were actually people.

 

People dressed in white. People holding notebooks. Were the hell was he? And why did the whole world seem white? One moment he was getting ready to crush the Pharaoh to oblivion, and the next he was here?!

 

And why did that god-damn voice keep shouting at him?

 

Finally, the source of the voice came to vision. He could now clearly recognize the features of that pale, proud face.

 

“Bakura!” he shouted.

 

“Good” one of the people with notebooks observed stiffly “His memory seems intact. Maybe letting the boy talk to him was a good idea…”

 

“True” another white-clad person answered “But he never had any troubles recognizing Bakura, did he? Even when he was totally out of it…”

 

Marik was starting to get increasingly pissed off about this…

 

“WHERE THE HECK AM I?? I WAS JUST ABOUT TO KILL THAT FRIGGIN' PHARAOH!! WHAT HAPPENED?? WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE??”

 

The voice of the white-haired boy soothed him again, and he could feel the boy's fingers threading in his hair. “Shhh…Relax, Mariku…Just feel the Earth under your feet…”

 

His eyes narrowed in hate “Get off of me!” with those words, he shoved the albino away from his body, briefly taking notice of the other boy's devastated expression “I'm not your `Mariku' anyway!”

 

“Oh?” one of the white-clad people suddenly seemed interested “Who are you then?”

 

He smirked in that very maniacal way of his, suddenly feeling comfortable again.

 

“I'm the shadow spirit that lives inside Marik's body…and I will use the powers of the Millennium Rod to feed your souls to the Shadow Realm immediately!!”

 

He grinned lightly, ignoring the slightly aghast manner with which Bakura's blood-red eyes watched him from nearby. He confidently moved his hand towards his waist, expecting to feel the familiar cold touch of gold.

 

No such luck. After groping around where the Rod should have been, he distractedly turned his gaze to his waist.

 

He gasped.

 

There was no Rod. There wasn't even a belt. No trousers…no purple cloak…not even his black shirt.

 

All he could see was white. A white, dress-like…nightgown fell on his tanned body. Surprised, he turned an inquiring gaze at Bakura…who simply stood and stared at him as though he was crazy…

 

Well, technically, he was…He just didn't really know how much anymore.

 

“What…what does this mean? Where am I? What have you done with my clothing? Where is my God Card? And my Millennium Item?”

 

One of the white-clad people scribbled something in her notebook and then turned to face him. He almost gagged at her toad-like face.

 

“WHAT?” he barked roughly.

 

“Well, if you really must know…” the woman started “Although I don't see how this will be different from any other time…” she continued “You are hosted in the Mental Institute of California. As for your clothing…” she sighed “I'm afraid it has been the same for over two years…”

 

His eyes widened ominously. Mental institute? Now it all made sense! The whiteness…the…doctors…Wait a minute! Was this hoe calling him crazy!? Ha! He had proof of his mental stability, though! What he was saying was true! Not some fantasy!

 

“What are you talking about, woman? I'm the spirit of an ancient murderer, reincarnated by the hate of my other half! I have only one purpose in life: to seek out and KILL the Nameless Pharaoh! Then, I will destroy mankind entirely! Anyone who objects to that, will have to deal with my Millennium ROD!”

 

The woman and the other doctors seemed to scribble down frantically at these words. He was now totally irate.

 

“STOP YOUR SCRIBBLING! LET ME OUT OF HERE!!”

 

Suddenly, he froze. His eyes glanced around towards the lithe form that was now leaning on the wall. Bakura's red eyes were focused on the floor, staring at the void with a misery that Marik couldn't quite comprehend.

 

Suddenly, an idea lit the Egyptian's head. “I have proof! I have proof of the truth! I will show you I'm telling the truth!!”

 

He felt a tad vulnerable without his Millennium Rod, but never mind…He could still get out. He turned to the tall albino.

 

“Bakura! Show them!! Tell them how you live in the Millennium Ring! Show them that you really are an evil spirit!!!”

 

The albino shook his head quite dejectedly as he kept staring at the ground in desperation.

 

“Interesting…” one of the doctors commented “Bakura obviously played a role in his fantasies…”

 

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, BAKURA??? SHOW THEM!!” Marik roared desperately, as he watched the albino's face constrict with absolute pain and suffering. He turned his ruby eyes to Marik and glanced away dejectedly.

 

“What's wrong, Bakura? Why aren't you telling them…Don't tell me you're in this too!!” he screamed accusingly. Bakura dug his head in his hands with a desperate sigh and tried to cover his ears to prevent Marik's screams from penetrating his skull.

 

“Mariku…” a doctor took a step towards him cautiously “Listen to me…For the last time…Bakura is your friend. You two grew up together! Please, try to remember! He is no ancient spirit! He is the one you grew up with! He is like a brother to you!!”

 

Marik's eyes widened. “What are you talking about you ignoramus? DARKNESS KNOWS NO FRIENDS OR FEELINGS!!! Bakura is as heatless as me!! He just wants the thrill of eviscerating the Pharaoh for himself!!!”

 

At this, Marik clearly saw the albino dig his fingers in his own hair desperately. A nurse dressed in white quickly ran to the boy and tried to comfort him, but Bakura waved her away.

 

“I'm used to it by now…” the white-haired boy simply muttered darkly. It was a bit too low, but Marik heard it none the less.

 

The Egyptian spirit -at least that's what he'd thought he was- saw red.

 

“Fine! Won't face the truth? Fine!” he barked “I'll prove to you how real I am!!!!” he stated with a clearly psychotic tone.

 

The doctors seemed intrigued. “Yeees?” they urged.

 

Marik restrained the urge to lunge on them and pummel them with his fists -restraining himself was a very rare thing for him to do…but without his Millennium Rod he didn't feel quite as powerful as he once did…

 

With lightning speed, Marik grasped his white robes in one hand. The sound of ripping fabric echoed all around the room, as Marik visibly tore off all the upper part of his tunic.

 

“People pay for these-” a nurse started, but was cut off by Marik's psychotic laughter.

 

“BWAHAHAHA!! Here! Observe! The proof to my claims!!” he turned around immediately, presenting his back to the shocked doctors. A look of pure confusion passed across their faces.

 

“Mariku?” the toad-faced woman asked. From the side, Marik saw Bakura sigh pathetically.

 

Marik was enraged at this point “FOOLS!! Can't you see the scars!! They were engraved on my back when I was a child!! They hide the Pharaoh's secret memory!! Look at them! Look at the tattoo!! My father forged it with a burning blade!! IT'S ALL ACROSS MY BACK!!!!” he screamed at their confused faces. Yet again, he saw Bakura plunge his head in his palms.

 

“Mariku…” a doctor started in a coaxing voice “There is nothing on your back…Now, don't panic…”

 

“NOTHING? NOTHING?! IT'S IMPRINTED ALL OVER MY BODY!! BAKURA HAS SEEN IT!! TELL THEM! BAKURA!! TELL THEM!!” he shrieked in disbelief. The scar wasn't there? But he could still feel the pain…he could still feel the incense burning on his flesh…the hate…his father…

 

“I HATE HIM!!” he suddenly screeched, making a couple of guards run to him and restrain his writhing body. Bakura's face took a very hurt and very guilty expression…

 

“I demand to see it! I want to see my back with my own eyes!! Let me see it!! Do it!!! Bakura!! Tell them!!! Force them!! I don't care!!!!”

 

To Marik's surprise, Bakura actually kicked away from the wall, and walked to the doctors. After a few minutes of coaxing and pleading from Bakura's part, the doctors seemed to nod.

 

“Fine” the toad-like one complied “let's take you to a mirror, then, Marik…”

 

Marik kept silent as the hands of the two guards held him captive `I can't fight them…I'm not strong enough without my Rod…besides, I want to see my back…'

 

He walked out of the room they were in and greeted a corridor with white walls, floor and ceiling.

 

“This way…” a nurse said quietly. She turned to step towards the right and kept progressing down the corridor.

 

Marik often saw autistic patients bashing their heads on the wall or people cursing out loud at thin air. `I am not crazy' he thought firmly, as he followed the group he was with.

 

He realized strangely, that a white-haired boy walked right next to him. Marik wanted to spit on Bakura's face, just to take revenge for Bakura's feign of ignorance. Such an action would not be prudent for the time being, however…

 

The guards that were holding him were watching his every move…and he still wanted to see that tattoo. His back was still bare, and he was having an uncomfortable time squirming around in the lower part of his torn gown.

 

He took a few moments to examine Bakura. He looked somehow different since the last time he'd seen the albino…Something about his eyes…They weren't proud and bloody anymore, just dull and faded out. The albino's hair looked longer than Marik remembered. Now the boy's white strands reached his waist, but only a few spikes could be distinguished. It wasn't the usual wild look…It was extremely placated. As for Bakura's general frame…The boy seemed to have lost a good few kilos. Marik remarked that the albino had always been slim, but now he was completely scrawny. Apart from that, swollen, puffy rings hung around Bakura's eyes.

 

Marik snorted at the amount of interest he was displaying. It was just Bakura, any way…Bakura was a generally small part of Marik's life. Very small. Minuscule.

 

“We're here, Marik.” One of the doctors said “Now don't be shocked…you haven't coherently looked at yourself for a long time now…”

 

Marik nodded, pretending to act like a good boy. Oh, how he would enjoy feeding these peoples' insides to the crows, once he got the chance to escape…

 

Meanwhile, he was shoved forward into a room that resembled a bathroom. He entered and took a few steps towards a large mirror on the wall. Everyone came in after him in order to take notes on his reaction, probably. He decided to help them out, and turned to the mirror.

 

His eyes widened. His jaw dropped.

 

“F-Father!!!” he whimpered pathetically, like a little boy on the verge of tears. His eyes widened considerably, and he watched the reflection in the mirror follow his actions.

 

Marik instinctively took a step backwards, but was held firmly in place by the guards. He was forced to look again at his reflection. This time, he screamed.

 

“AAAHHHH!!! Take him away! Take him away!!! Don't let him hurt me!! It's my FATHER!!!”

 

He watched the person in the mirror move in sync with him, and yelled.

 

“He's following!! He's hunting!! HEELLPP!!! SOMEBODY!! NOOO!!!”

 

The person in his reflection had long bleach-blonde hair and bright lavender eyes. Tanned, dirty skin covered his body, whilst a long blonde beard adorned his face. His chest was exposed and around his hips hung loosely a white tunic.

 

The guards around Marik tried to restrain his writhing body, but the man just kept thrashing around wildly, tossing his head frantically around, trying to escape his own reflection.

 

Suddenly, a cool hand was placed on Marik's forehead and shoulder. Marik opened his eyes and stared at non other than Bakura, who had stepped up to him. Marik noticed that the same thing was happening in the mirror. Bakura was standing in front of his `Father'.

 

“Shhh….Mariku….” Bakura started saying in a soothing yet tired tone “It's just your reflection…”

 

Marik shook his head in denial. “No! No! He's going to hurt me- hunt me down! Kill him! Bakura! Destroy him!!!”

 

Suddenly, Marik lunged forward wildly, his fist aimed at the mirror.

 

“DESTROY HIIM!!!!!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. Everyone was quite relieved when the guards held Marik back. He had almost gotten out of control, for a moment…

 

Bakura sighed heavily, and approached Marik, who was now glaring at his own reflection with stormy lavender eyes.

 

“Mariku…” the airy voice that belonged to this peculiar, new, kind Bakura started “You've been here for two years…of course a beard would grow…we couldn't take care of that every single day…you wouldn't let us.”

 

Marik glared at his reflection in disbelief “But…but…” he saw the body of his reflection shift analogically with his movements. His skin had grown even more tanned, and thick veins now popped from his palms and throat. The muscles of his abdomen and arms still seemed tight, and he clearly recognized he had lost very much weight.

 

Then, his eyes came to rest back upon that hideous, ugly face he didn't even want to lay his eyes on “It's my Father…I am my Father…Take it away!! Take it away!!” he ordered hoarsely.

 

Bakura sighed in rejection, his bloody orbs taking a darker shade “Don't you want to check your back? Don't you want to see for yourself?”

 

Marik seemed to consider this, and hesitantly turned to his reflection. He averted his eyes from his own face, and turned around slowly in the guards' grasp. Then, somewhat ceremoniously, he turned to look at his back.

 

And he gasped for the second time that day.

 

Splayed right in front of his tired eyes, was soft, sleek skin. Sun-kissed mocha muscles pumped around his now skinny back…but no tattoo.

 

The flesh he had always wished to have was now offered to him freely. No scars. His back was not wavy or disgusting any more…it was…normal. He had always wished for it…now it was here…No tattoo. No scar.

 

Marik blinked, then looked at the man closest to him…Bakura.

 

The albino wore this kind, unwavering smile. His bloody eyes clearly cried out…hope. Hope that Marik would remember.

 

Marik felt his whole body go numb. First, Bakura was kind and gentle…Then, Marik found out he looked exactly like his father with that beard and that tired thin face…And…no tattoo…

 

Marik glanced around at the doctors who were watching him patiently.

 

`Maybe I AM Paranoid.' Marik simply thought.