Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Shadow Games ❯ Shadow Games ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Author’s notes: This is dedicated to Dark Gatomon, who provided me the song that produced a spontaneous muse that gave way to this. Also, in addition, I’ve tried to make this as canon as possible, but I’ve suspended most for sake of the plot. This is quite a long venture, so strap yourselves in, here we go!

***

Long ago, in the ancient past
I remember a life when we first met

Cool sand sifted through his toes, as he lifted his feet in a subconscious pattern, long since memorized. His chest heaved with great effort, and he moved to touch above his left breast, as if to soothe his heart. A shaky breath escaped his chapped lips, sweat sticking his thick white mane to the nape of his neck. He raised a hand to brush the damp strands from his neck, but also brought up the other, and he sighed, shaking the shackles that bound his wrists together. The rusty metal scraped and bruised his tanned skin as he moved his hands, painting the iron with his blood. Raising his hands, and allowing the shackles to slide down a marginal bit, he licked the re-opened wound, enjoying the coppery taste of blood on his tongue.

Turning his head slightly, he noted how far he had trekked from his escape. The Pharaoh’s guards had been very lax in their security, and he had easily gotten out of his cell and a significant head-start before they realized he was gone. He laughed, the dryness of his throat cutting off the short rejoicing, sending him into a coughing fit. Stumbling, he fell to his knees, raising a chained hand to his throat, rubbing it. Though used he was to being without water for long periods of time, every time he was initially without it was the hardest. His throat always cried out for the refreshing cool…he shook his head. Thinking about drinking water only served to drive thirsty men mad. With a hard swallow, he paused for a moment before pushing himself back on his feet, beginning again the arduous trek.

Momentarily, the question arose in his mind of how long he had been single-mindedly walking through the desert. He remembered idly the blistering heat when he began a full sprint away from the Dungeon, stumbling and falling before gaining balance and momentum. The royal guards in front of his cell were more attentive at night; during the day they were barely listening to his occasional remarks. His lips curled into a smirk. He was a high priority for the Pharaoh and his administration; though they never quite got it in their heads that he would always escape, and they would always be chasing him. One day, he silently vowed, he would have a chance to meet the Pharaoh face to face, and then… oh, and then! He licked his chapped lips in anticipation at confronting the man whose order had single-handedly wiped out his village. That would be a day to remember, to be sure. The thought of it kept him going through the cool desert.

Tiredly, he threw his head back and laughed, not caring for the echo it created in the still desert air. He was alone, and could see that he would be for miles. Quickly he dissolved back into plotting his exact movements and words when he faced off with the Pharaoh. His spine tingled, his body becoming rejuvenated at the prospect. Another laugh escaped his dry throat. “Oh, it will be very sweet indeed.”

“Do not celebrate yet, tomb robber,” a smooth, rich voice interjected, and Bakura started, turning wildly to see the young Pharaoh sitting atop a pure-blooded white Arabian horse. His long, royal purple cloak hung around his shoulders, flowing behind him. “You are not as swift and clever as you perceive yourself to be.”

Bakura snarled, tightening his fists. Words failed him, as anger soon ran rampant through his body. He trembled with rage, his nails digging into his dry palms. Everything the Pharaoh embodied disgusted him. Even now, with the Pharaoh sitting upon his steed, the moon full and bright behind him as if shining a beacon on a God. The royal one did not have to say a word, his posture and facial expression held a thousand words. It caused Bakura’s blood to boil, those amethyst eyes shining with superiority, easily handed to him by birth! He, who stayed safe and secure while the people of his country starved, and were looted. He, who ordered the destruction of an entire village without a second thought. Who gave him that right? Certainly not the God Bakura believed in.

In the dark shadow realm under a big full moon
There and then, I could tell
You’d try and break my will

“God is out by himself?” Bakura questioned, quelling the rage in his voice. “Well, I certainly feel privileged.”

The smirk on the Pharaoh’s lips widened. “A lowly criminal like yourself knows of privilege?” Bakura snarled again, and this incited a laugh from the Pharaoh. His lips parted enough so Bakura could see the pearly white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Slightly his steed bucked, and with a quick, sharp knick of his foot, was easily handled. “Why continue to run away? You will only be caught again and thrown back into the same cell once more. Or…do you now call that cell home?”

Bakura’s eyes widened with rage, and watched as the Pharaoh easily dismounted his steed, with the sort of grace that was believed to be bestowed upon him by Ra. Though he stayed his anger, and waited for the royal one to come closer. His quick black eyes caught the perfect moment and suddenly, the chain of his shackles was around the back of the Pharaoh’s neck, pulling him roughly against Bakura’s built frame. “Well, well,” Bakura purred, a smirk curling on his lips. As his captive attempted to struggle, the white-haired man merely yanked on the chain, the course metal grazing the flawless skin of the ruler. “It seems the upper hand is mine. And, this time, there is no one to save you, Pharaoh Atemu.”

Atemu narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring at the repulsive smell emanating from the Tomb Robber. He reeked of feces, sweat, blood, and whatever else he had been rolling around in. The surprisingly cool chain pressed into his neck, and he recoiled from Bakura’s breath cascading over his face. “Relish this moment, criminal, for you will never be this close to a higher rung on the ladder in your pitiful existence. Compared to me, you are absolutely worthless.”

But now, watch as I rise to a whole new height

Bakura growled low in his throat, and despite the regal disgust on his face, Atemu thought the raw emotion exhibited by Bakura was fascinating, exotic, appalling, savage, and attractive all at once. His high priest, Seth, had constantly been complaining about the Thief King that had made a career of raping and pillaging various villages in the land; and a specific point of robbing the sacred tombs of Atemu’s ancestors. He had always wanted to meet this Thief King, to handle the man by himself. Atemu wanted to extract revenge on his own. “Oh, I plan on relishing this moment, Atemu, and I also plan on thoroughly debauching you until there is not a single shred of dignity in your body.” Bakura shifted his stance, moving his right leg in between Atemu’s legs, and suddenly pulled backward, causing Atemu to lose his balance. Bakura’s lips widened with a smirk, now holding Atemu in a dip, the young Pharaoh momentarily stunned. “Now then, let’s not waste any time.”

Atemu, though stunned for a moment, did not remain so. Once he had regained control of himself, he clamped his hands down on Bakura’s muscular arms, and with a twist combined with a sudden push, ended up with the white haired rebel beneath him. “Indeed. It is time you received a fraction of the hell you have landed upon hundreds of my people!” His amethyst eyes glinted with determination, turning Bakura onto his stomach, pressing his face into the sand. Ignoring the muffled curses and attempted struggling, Atemu gripped the waistline of the dark fabric that covered Bakura’s waist to his knees. With a sudden jerk, the cloth was removed. Bakura thrashed wildly, though Atemu kept him at bay with a strong grip. Using his own knees to spread Bakura’s legs apart, Atemu roughly pushed his index finger into the cleft of Bakura’s ass. The rebel thrashed again, only to have another finger join the first. Amethyst eyes surveyed the situation, and quickly, Atemu sheathed himself deep within the hot confines of Bakura.

Tears peeked at the corners of Bakura’s eyes, as he uselessly clawed at the sand, his body screaming for more, and his mind screaming for death. He refused to let them fall and hunched his shoulders, lowering his head enough so he could try to hold himself together. Every thrust, every grunt resounded in Bakura’s ears, the touch, the smell of Atemu sending shockwaves through his weary body. There was no attempt to hold back his cries of anguish, rage, shame, though they were melded with Atemu’s own noises.

And our mad battle cry will be heard all night

***

Atemu sighed softly as he glided into his royal chambers. Behind him, he closed the large golden doors, before reaching up and unfastening the clasps that attached his cloak to his shirt. Goosebumps rose on his flawless skin, and he absently rubbed his arms, looking around the vast space. Something tightened in his stomach, but Atemu ignored it, stripping out of his shirt, untying his sandals, and removing the large amount of gold jewellery he had been wearing. Rubbing his wrists, his slender fingers then reached for the oval pendant that always remained on, no matter what. Gently, he ran the pad of his thumb over the hieroglyphs on the silver, momentarily lost in the memory the piece of metal contained. He closed his eyes, dropped the pendant, feeling the warm metal hit his chest. Slowly, Atemu crossed the room to his large bed.

With his mind somewhere else, Atemu slid into the bed, pulling the sheets up and over him. The silk cascaded over his skin, and he felt safe, alone in his quarters. However, the vast size of the bed frequently caused Atemu to feel like a speck, just a small thing. He would stay up for hours, debating his rule, his councillors, the people in his kingdom. Deep insecurities about how they truly felt about him rattled his nerves when he was alone. He knew what they publicly thought about him. Though, what they held deep within their hearts was what troubled him the most. “I wonder if they hate me…”

That was when he felt warm breath tickle his right ear, and a strong, calloused grip laying on his bare hip came next. “They all hate you,” a familiar husky voice whispered, and Atemu shivered involuntarily, as their lips touched his earlobe. Strong arms came around his lean frame, holding him tightly against a more muscular body. “But it’s quite amusing to hear that the great Pharaoh is as insecure as a young girl.”

“Bakura,” Atemu growled, struggling with his emotions, his body slightly shaking with slow-boiling anger. He was torn between sheer outrage, disgust, but at the same time, there was a strange feeling stirring in his stomach. What he initially thought was disgust turned out to be something exciting, and frighteningly pleasurable. Bakura chuckled, pulling Atemu against his chest, holding him tightly, and almost jealously. “How did you get in here?!”

Though he was not facing the Thief King, Atemu could just see the smirk curl the lips of Bakura. A snicker trickled into Atemu’s ears, as if that would answer his question. “You are not as swift and clever as you perceive yourself to be,” Bakura purred, though the velveteen sound was laced with a dangerous undertone. He laughed as Atemu tensed, recognizing those were the same words he had spoken to the white-haired thief weeks previous. “It’s easier than you think to get this deep within the Pharaoh’s quarters. I do not like having loose ends hanging, my beloved Pharaoh, so I am here to repay my debt.” Atemu’s blood ran cold as he realized what Bakura was implying.

You keep on playin’
Those dark shadow games and
No, I won’t be beat again

“You try anything, Tomb Robber, and my royal guards will have you skinned alive for laying your filthy hands upon me,” Atemu threatened through gritted teeth. There was a small yet nagging feeling that would not leave that he didn’t want to call his guards. He didn’t want this moment to end abruptly. There was something about the moment of danger, excitement and intrigue that kept Atemu where he was, and his voice low and decidedly annoyed. This game, that he had begun to play with Bakura, was picking up and he was somewhat eager to see where the game would lead them. Against his better judgement, he stayed silent, and surprisingly pressed into Bakura’s hold. While he wanted to see where this would lead, there was no intention to completely play into Bakura’s hand.

Bakura smirked, as one hand held Atemu against him, the other calloused hand slid down the Pharaoh’s waist, almost gently caressing the beautiful skin. His eyes flashed in anticipation, though he idly wondered whether or not Atemu would actually call his guards. Being a bandit, Bakura never learned how to worry about the future, or the past. All he thought about was the present, and how he would make every moment in the day count for him. Presently, his right hand slid under the Pharaoh’s skirt, fingers curling around his half-hard shaft. “Oh, what’s this? Are you enjoying this, Pharaoh?” He couldn’t help but laugh softly, utterly thrilled his plan was going perfectly. “Now, who would have thought? The divine God is aroused by a thief.”

Atemu growled, clenching his fists, yet making no move to overpower the thief. His mind was screaming for him to call the guards, yet his body wanted more of Bakura’s touch, more exploration of a deadly fascinating situation. The other man’s touch to that sensitive organ sent his nerves aflame, and it took all of his legendary control to keep from mindlessly begging for more. No matter how much he was enjoying this new experience, he would not lower himself to the thief’s level. Bakura rested his chin on Atemu’s shoulder, slightly nuzzling the nook. “Bakura…!”

The thief chuckled, his fingers lightly running up and down the Pharaoh’s shaft, fingers moving as if plucking a string instrument. Each tap and sliding motion of his fingers fired off every nerve in Atemu’s body, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his mind on just who was doing this to him, and just what was coming out of his mouth. “There’s no need to be hasty, the night is still young,” Bakura whispered huskily, an air of hidden motive curling around his words, “and there is still yet much more I am going to do to you, my beloved Pharaoh. I am going to cause my name to spill from your lips; but oh no, not in anger, you will beg me to bring you release, endlessly!” Atemu went to rebuke, but was cut-off when Bakura fisted him, pumping slow and hard.

He gasped, arching his back which coincidentally caused his hips to thrust forward, subconsciously begging for more of the same. Soundless, his mouth opened, and though his mind was screaming orders for his voice to convey, nothing came out. Bakura continued his methodical ministrations, never changing the rhythm, his ears always perked to hear Atemu’s wordless responses. Which, though minimal, were making the trouble of entering the palace and waiting underneath the bed for hours on end very much worth the hassle. His plan went through without a hitch, and then, to seal his victory, Bakura produced a small dagger. As he kept Atemu face down, his face pressed against the luxurious fabric of his pillow, Bakura cut his name into the Pharaoh’s shoulder blade. The cuts were shallow, but not shallow enough that they would heal quickly without a trace. With precision, they would bleed and scar, but the scar would not leave. Gently Bakura kissed the cuts, grinning madly at the hisses of pain coming from Atemu. He lapped up the blood, then roughly turning the Pharaoh to face him, crushed his lips in a searing kiss; forcing Atemu to taste his own blood.

Slowly Bakura pulled away from the kiss, pushing himself up and off of the mattress. Atemu was breathing shakily, and quickly turned on his back, pressing the searing cuts into the fine white linens. “Remember this night, Pharaoh,” Bakura began, licking the last of the blood off of his fingers. He paused for a moment, his eyes drinking up the defeated state Atemu was in. This was his victory, he was the one who won this round; and the feeling that coursed through his veins, that tingled his senses, was absolutely exhilarating. How he wished he could stay longer, and paint the picture perfectly in his mind of having completely debauched the great Pharaoh Atemu. But he knew when his time was up, and with a exaggerated bow, Bakura quickly made his escape into the night.

***

The expensive fabric of his purple cloak brushed against the stone steps of the temple, leaving tiny uplifting clouds of dust as he quickly made his way down. His throat constricted because of the dust that was entering his mouth, and though he didn’t want to continue breathing in dust, it was increasingly difficult not to because the further he treaded into the ancient temple, the more dust was abundant in the air. Atemu raised a hand to cover his mouth and nose, making a cautious mental note to watch his feet, as the lower he went, the less defined the steps were.

Without fail, however, Atemu made his way down the rest of the stairs, and looked around the corridor he had found himself in. Finding one’s way through the labyrinth that his grandfather’s architects had constructed to protect their ancestors proved to be very difficult. Or difficult for anyone who wasn’t part of the royal family. Each successor to the throne of Egypt was given the scroll of parchment that held the layout of the temple. Every nook and cranny was labelled, and Atemu had had the parchment memorized long before he had ascended to the throne. He would sneak into his father’s secret cabinet, open it, and take the scroll out and spend precious half hours reading it, before he had to quickly put it back and resume his previous place.

Once Atemu reached the desired place, he gripped the puzzle that was ever-present around his neck. His amethyst eyes widened, as the Thief King Bakura was sitting on a golden chair, admiring the Tauk. “Tomb Robber!” Atemu snarled, clenching his fists. “Why must you always soil things with your presence?”

Bakura, pulling himself away from inspecting the Tauk, gently set it back in its place before casually turning to face Atemu. “What a pleasure this is!” He sarcastically exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air, “How many more times will I be honoured with your exalted presence, my beloved Pharaoh?”

You keep playin’
These dark shadow games

“Stop this nonsense, Bakura!” Atemu yelled, throwing his right arm out. He pointed a finger at Bakura, eyes narrowed. “There is something I must do here. For the sake of our world, I must seal the dark powers of the shadow games away.”

The look on Bakura’s face was one of complete disinterest. It quickly turned into one of smug pronouncement. “Is this because I intruded on your party with your priests? Oh, forgive me, Pharaoh! I was only trying to have a little fun…our own shadow game has yet to be fully finished, if you do recall.”

Atemu exhaled, attempting to maintain his temper before he lashed out and strangled the tomb robber where he stood. His right hand was clenched into a fist, the other tightly holding the puzzle, to try and work past his inflamed temper. “While I do hate to not indulge you, there is something far more important at hand here than your little game.” Atemu walked over to where the Sennen items were kept, and stopped beside Bakura. “Your miniscule mind cannot grasp the gravity of the situation, tomb robber. These powers are far out of control, and I cannot allow them to be so any longer.”

Bakura made a yawning motion with his hand, then waved it in dismissal. “And of course, you can, because you’re God. Nothing is beyond your powers, is it?” He touched Atemu’s right shoulder, where he had carved his name into, before the Pharaoh soundly knocked his hand away. “Except for of course, what I hold over you. You do remember our encounter before last, do you not? Oh, I’m sure you do! Why, with how much you begged--” Quickly, he jumped back as Atemu moved to punch him. “Tsk, tsk! You’re the almighty Pharaoh of Egypt, Ra’s incarnation on earth, aren’t you? That is no action to be taking when you are in such a high position.” A smirk crossed his lips, and Bakura threw his head back and laughed. “You talk mighty, but when the time comes, where is the strong and powerful leader Egypt needs?”

“If you recall, thief, I have had the upper hand on you before,” Atemu grounded out, a wide smirk appearing on his lips, as Bakura’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you do remember that, do you not? In the desert, your face in the sand as I took you? If I recall correctly, which I am very sure I do, you enjoyed that, didn’t you, you filthy creature? You enjoyed being taken advantage of, and I believe I even saw tears.” Seeing Bakura recoil and remain frozen in place, obviously remembering the events of that dark night in the desert, the only light coming from the full moon.

Oh, this time I’ll claim my fame

Atemu closed his eyes, holding the Sennen Puzzle tightly in his hands. Softly he began to chant words that he had previously not known, but were easily flowing into his mind. Bakura looked around wildly as he felt a strange, bizarre presence in the large temple room. The Sennen items, his entire reason for being in the blasted temple in the first place, were now progressively glowing brighter, and he could also hear chanting coming from nowhere. His gaze returned to Atemu, who was seemingly completely engrossed in his chant. This was becoming a little too strange for him, and in his lifetime, Bakura had seen some very unsettling things. Though, what was occurring now certainly was going to be placed at the very top of that list.

Bakura was becoming somewhat comfortable with what was happening around him. It was something he had never seen before, continuous streams of black clouds were being pulled inside the seven Sennen items, including Atemu’s puzzle. While he was willing to accept that this was well beyond his realm of comfort, what happened next was very unexpected. He stared down at his hands, upon feeling a tingling sensation that one gets when one is being pulled away. Momentarily he thought Atemu was going to pull him hard and send him crashing into the stone walls, but was horrified upon seeing his skin being pulled away like the wisps of cloud. “What the hell are you doing, Pharaoh?!” he demanded. This was not something he could fully rationalize. All he knew was Atemu was causing it.

The Pharaoh turned, after chanting the final verse, and Bakura saw that he too was being pulled away, his very essence being pulled into the puzzle. Bakura quickly looked to see where he was being pulled to, and saw the Sennen Ring. Atemu was smiling, and the Thief King nearly leaped on him and strangled him. That was, he would have if he could have moved at all. But he found himself frozen to his spot, unable to stop what was happening to him. “I told you, Thief King, the dark powers of the shadow games must be sealed! However, to accomplish such a task, I had to offer myself as the sacrifice.”

“I don’t care about that!” Bakura snarled, shaking his fist, and causing more of himself to be pulled inside of the Ring. “Why the hell is this happening to ME?”

In response, Atemu’s smile turned into a triumphant smirk. “I am sealing you too away for eternity, Bakura! No more will you torture innocent people; no more will you take what is not yours to take; and no more shall you exist! Do not worry, Bakura…after all, who is there to miss you? You will spend eternity within the Sennen Ring, and pay a thousand fold for your crimes against my people!” By the end of his final speech, the Pharaoh was almost completely gone, disappearing inside of the puzzle. “I have won this final round, Thief King Bakura.”

“No!” Bakura yelled, then let out a scream of utter anguish. He dropped to his knees, clutching uselessly at the stone floor. The Thief King stared horrified and angrily at his rapidly vanishing form. “This is not over, Pharaoh! I vow today that I will be released from this prison and I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!” With this final vow, Bakura was fully consumed by the Sennen Ring, and Atemu sighed in relief as he too disappeared. The Sennen Puzzle fell to the ground with a solid ‘thunk’, the rope loosely falling around it.

***

Ryou smiled. His large brown eyes looked around the group, to Anzu, Honda, Jounouchi, and Yugi. Though his exterior was sweet and docile, inside, a dark voice whispered to him. The voice that he had heard so many times before but thought it just to be a hallucination of his own. Ryou wasn’t entirely sure why he was sitting a circle with these people, but these four had been the first friends he had in a long while and they seemed to be genuinely nice people. Silently, he sat and watched them talk about the happenings of their adventure already on the island. His lips curled slightly into a small frown. They finished each other’s sentences, were smiling and laughing by simply mentioning the others’ names. Subconsciously, Ryou reached and touched the Sennen Ring that hung around his neck, but was currently under his sweater, the item being the only means of comfort Ryou had known.

“Jounouchi, you’ve been staring at that card for an hour, what’s the deal?” Honda questioned, quirking an eyebrow.

The blond boy in question started, then grinned. “The Flame Swordsman kicks everyone’s ass! HYAH!” he slashed at the air as if to demonstrate the card’s power. Anzu laughed, and shook her head, watching Jounouchi slash another invisible enemy. “There isn’t anybody that my Swordsman can’t take down!”

Honda, who now procured a card of his own, suddenly jumped up and stood to defend his favourite card to his best friend. “No way, Jono! My Cyber Commander can totally take your Swordsman head to head and kick his ass all over the duel!”

Yugi seemed overly amused at the behaviour of his friends, and Ryou, though initially felt that Yugi was someone he could trust and talk to, suddenly felt some animosity to the shorter boy. That voice was whispering in his head again, filled with spite and venom, speaking about the Sennen Puzzle that Yugi had around his neck. Ryou was confused - he had nothing personal against Yugi. But this voice… “I think everyone has a card they can identify with. See if you can pick one for yourself, Anzu.”
Anzu paused, and bit her lip. “Oh, I don’t know. Doesn’t it seem silly we’re comparing ourselves to cards?” She picked one anyway upon Yugi’s urging, and smiled. “This one, the Magician of Faith.”

“You’re kidding, right? Sounds like the Magician of freaks to me!” Jounouchi snickered, waving a hand at Anzu, before promptly being smacked upside the head.

Yugi laughed, and nodded. “That’s a great choice, Anzu. She really suits you. As for me, well I pick my Dark Magician of course!” He held up the card, and his amethyst eyes shone with pride. “He’s been a lifesaver in many of my duels. I wish I can be as brave and powerful as him someday. But Ryou, what about you? Do you have a favourite card?”

Ryou started, quite startled that he was being included in the conversation. He had been quite happy to watch and listen the group, and being a part of it was something that hadn’t occurred to him. “Oh, mine? Well…” He searched his deck, and stopped upon the magic card, Change of Heart. Ryou’s eyes fell upon the card, and smiled sadly. He felt, that even though he was a good person, with no intention of hurting someone else, there was a darker side of him, hiding within his heart just waiting to be freed. “This one. The Change of Heart. Say… if you want to see how it works, we could have a duel right now. Not for star-chips, but just for a little fun. What do you think?”

Why was he suggesting a duel? He hardly duelled himself, and he never initiated something in his life. But once his offer had been put out to the group, it would be foolish to retract it and pretend he hadn’t said it at all. “After all this business, it’d be great just to have a fun duel,” Jounouchi added, grinning.

“How about you all put your cards in Yugi’s deck so it’s like you’re all playing with him?” Ryou suggested, the words coming out of his mouth feeling like they were no longer his own. Yet he couldn’t stop himself, and watched as the group agreed, sliding their cards into Yugi’s deck. Suddenly, he blinked, and raised a hand to his head, feeling a wave of dizziness come over him. His eyes rolled back and Ryou felt himself being thrown away, unable to see out of his own eyes.

His eyes sharpened, becoming more angular, and the white hair became more jaggedly shaped. The once docile doe eyes were now holding more mischievousness than warmth. Looking down at his hands, noting the pale skin he now found himself in, Bakura smirked. After three thousand years, he finally released himself from the confines the Pharaoh of ancient Egypt had sealed him into. His eyes gazed upon the unsuspecting pawns in the game he was now to create, and they narrowed upon seeing the Sennen Puzzle. “But before we begin, there is something I want to share with all of you. And especially you, Yugi…” Yugi blinked, and gasped when Bakura revealed the Sennen Ring.

“No, it can’t be! A Sennen Item!” Yugi exclaimed, his eyes widening. He looked around wildly as Bakura’s Ring emanated a strange glow, the area around them darkening, being filled with black clouds. Bakura laughed, and with a smirk, used his Sennen Ring to capture the souls of his victims into their “favourite cards”.

With a smirk, Bakura stood, and walked over to the small boy. “After all these years, I will finally take this…” He reached for the Sennen Puzzle, his fingers touching the cool metal, but drew his hand back quickly upon seeing it glow. “What is this?” His eyes widened as the glow brightened, and he saw those same golden bangs. “No!” Bakura snarled, clenching his fists, watching the spirit of the Sennen Puzzle stand up, and tightly hold the puzzle. “Not you.”

The spirit, who named himself Yami Yugi put a hand on his hip, eying Bakura. “What have you done, Ryou? Why have you taken us to the Shadow Realm?”

Bakura’s snarl grew louder, the superiority in the Pharaoh’s voice the same even after three thousand years. Then he blinked, upon realizing his questions, and laughed. “This is too rich! Do you mean you do not remember me, Pharaoh? Why, I am absolutely crushed.” He smirked. “I’m back.”

So now you’ll know after time has passed
You can never be sure you’re always the best

Yami raised an eyebrow, regarding Bakura with a curious, yet firm look. “I do not know who you are, but if you are not Ryou, then who are you?” There was a disturbingly familiar quality about the one before him, but other than that, there was nothing Yami could discern about him.

The Ring spirit quirked an eyebrow, as he stared blankly at Yami. Was this the same Pharaoh that had locked him into the Sennen Ring 3000 years ago? Everything was the same about him - that arrogant tone, bangs shaped like lighting bolts, and those amethyst eyes. Everything was the same, yet how could he forget Bakura? They had been the last person the other saw before being sealed, and yet, it appeared the spirit before him had no recollection of him. “Let me just say, I am an old acquaintance, from over three millennia ago. There is quite a bit of history between us, my dear friend. But you see…” As he now talked, Bakura made his way over to Yami. “I have a bit of a loose end hanging. And, I do hate to have those, so we’ll have a bit of a resolution here.”

Something in those words the other spirit spoke startled Yami, though he did not outwardly reveal this. The one before him had known him, or known about him, yet he, the one in question, knew nothing of himself prior to meeting Yugi. The boy had inquired to Yami on numerous occasions what the spirit’s name was, but no name occurred to Yami to give. He was simply was referred to as the Spirit of the Puzzle, and that suited him just fine. But now, to be in front of someone who might know something… “Resolution? What are you talking about?”

Bakura stared at him, then broke out into a raucous fit of laughter. The very idea that the self-righteous Pharaoh could be so utterly clueless never occurred to Bakura, and he found it to be hilarious. “Let me speak a language that you will understand. Duel me, Pharaoh. Let us have a go at it, shall we? Wager our items as a bet? What do you have to lose?” He grinned. “Other than your soul, that is…”

“Very well. You will not win, thief,” Yami replied, and the Shadow Game began again.

***

Something was troubling Yami. What it was, he could not place his finger upon. He looked down at his host, smiling faintly seeing Yugi fast asleep. Through the events of Battle City, Seto Kaiba’s innovative tournament, Yami had discovered that he was in fact a Pharaoh of Ancient Egypt, and much of what he had done three thousand years ago was being challenged now. The Ring Spirit had been calling him ‘Pharaoh’ before, when they had duelled at Duellist Kingdom, in the Shadow Realm. The spirit had entrapped his friends’ souls within their favourite cards, using their souls as pawns. It had enraged Yami, but not more so than the verbal taunting the other spirit persisted upon.

His words carried the tone of knowing something the other did not, and as Yami paced the room his form transparent, he became more and more angry. Clenching his fists, he exhaled sharply, looking around the room. He raised a hand, touching his forehead, closing his amethyst eyes. It was a familiar feeling, though completely unfamiliar, Yami realized, becoming enraged at the mere thought of the Ring Spirit. Suddenly, he questioned himself as to why he was allowing this to happen - the Ring Spirit had been banished to the Shadow Realm during their duel on Duellist Kingdom Island, and Ryou had been given back his freedom.

As he paced the room, Yami did not notice the door being pushed open. There was no sound, no movement that Yami could see out of the corner out of his eye, had he been paying attention. Finally, he turned, and froze upon seeing Ryou - no, it was not Ryou, Yami discerned; the eyes, the shape of the white mane, the swagger was not characteristic of Ryou - enter the room, holding a round golden object in his hand. “You,” Yami whispered, making a considerable effort to keep his voice down as to not wake Yugi. “What are you doing in here?” He wasn’t quite sure why he was asking Bakura this, there was no way that the Ring Spirit could even see him as a transparent figure. Only Yugi could, and that was because of the strong mental link they developed through the magic of the Sennen Puzzle.

Bakura slightly jumped, but only upon hearing Yami’s voice. The Sennen Eye, resting comfortably in Bakura’s pale palm, emitted a faint glow. “Pharaoh? Huh! What a surprise, seeing you…so outside of yourself.” Yami frowned, unimpressed as Bakura chuckled to himself, finding his little joke quite amusing. “What’s the matter, Pharaoh? You don’t seem so happy to see me! Oh, did you think you got rid of me during our little tree stump duel? You cannot get rid of me that easily, Pharaoh. I am the darkness, and every time you believe you are rid of me, I will come back. For the darkness never dies.”

‘Cause I’m back from the shadows comin’ after you
On the brightest day of your darkest hour

“As…interesting as that is, what are you doing in here?” Yami demanded, thoroughly unimpressed with Bakura’s claim. “Did you plan to steal away in here in the middle of the night to get your filthy hands upon my puzzle?”

At this, the white-haired spirit rolled his eyes. “And here I believed I was going to be free of your ‘Royal’ bearing.” He raised a hand, then raked his fingers through his spiked hair. “Yes, I am here to get your Puzzle. If you recall, I told you at last we saw one another, that I will garner all seven Sennen Items. By any means necessary.” Bakura rolled the Sennen Eye in the palm of his hand, making sure that Yami caught a glance. “My dear friend Pegasus was so kind as to give me a little head start on my collection.”

Yami tensed, and his eyes narrowed sharply at the spirit before him. “So it was you,” he hissed, stepping towards Bakura, with an intent on resetting the balance of power. Bakura merely grinned, and stood with a challenging posture, as Yami came closer to him. “How dare you do such a thing?”

“I dare very easily,” Bakura crooned, looking down into the amethyst depths of the Puzzle spirit. “Tell me, does your left shoulder still hurt?” He smirked when Yami gave him a quizzical look. “Does it?” Yami refused to answer, so Bakura took the chance to elaborate, and quickly slid around Yami, pale fingers tracing every curve of Yami’s bared shoulder. Too stunned by the boldness exuded by the other, Yami stood frozen in his spot. Though Bakura couldn’t actually touch him, the Puzzle spirit could just feel the icy fingers trailing serpentine patterns along his skin. “Right here…?” Bakura smirked as Yami’s head inclined slightly in what he interpreted as a nod. “Do you ever wonder why? Since I’m such a nice fellow, I’ll tell you.

“Long ago, in ancient times, I got the better of you. Oh, it was a wonderful, triumphant moment, Pharaoh,” Bakura purred, his lips hovering over Yami’s. The white haired one knew he didn’t have to do anything physically to the other spirit to get his point across. Words were doing this just fine. “I marked you, right here, my beloved Pharaoh. Carved very lovingly my name into your skin. I watched you writhe in agony as I did so! You can’t possibly imagine how … intoxicating it was! I’m sure you’ve seen it before, haven’t you? But you’ve got no memory of your past, so you just ignored it, right?”

“Stop this,” Yami breathed, his eyes wide and his back arched. He felt as if Bakura had him tightly gripped in his deceivingly strong arms, even though he was a spirit image. It was a feeling of powerlessness, of being completely controlled that Yami hadn’t experienced before. This was something so far beyond duelling he wasn’t sure what to do. All he could do was listen to Bakura’s smooth voice, and be completely overwhelmed by it. “Stop this now, thief!”

Bakura laughed again, the sound rich and dangerous, as it cascaded into Yami’s ear. “I don’t think you really want me to, Pharaoh! I’ve got you in my grasp, just like I did all those years ago. And you’re still entranced, you say you want me to stop, but I know, I can feel that deep down, you want me to continue until the morning light. Isn’t that right? Your host is sleeping … he won’t wake up just yet. I’ll leave you to ponder this, Pharaoh: you may have bested me in a duel or two, but really…in the true battle…I am the victor.” He grinned maniacally, sliding out from behind Yami, and began sauntering to the door. “Sweet dreams, Pharaoh. The game, as you so love to put it, is not over yet.” He gave a wink, and with a smirk, left the room.

Yami stared after him, reaching up to touch his left shoulder. His stomach sank when his fingers ran over deep grooves, feeling as if the cuts that bore them had stopped bleeding. “There is…so much I don’t understand about myself from those times. And you, Thief… Bakura…you’re complicating it that much more. I will get to the bottom of this…”

* * *

“Your tyrannical games end here, Bakura!” Yami declared, gripping his chest with his left hand, his right gripping his duel monster cards. He glared at the offending spirit, who was doubled up in pain on the other side of the playing field. Bakura had no monsters on his side, his last defence was wiped out by the Dark Magician during Yami’s last turn. “No more will you use my friends for your twisted amusement!”

You destroyed the future with your past
Forgot the lesson of the test

“Do you think your bloated words mean anything to me?” Bakura laughed, throwing his head back and laughing at the other spirit. “You can say that all you want, but until I actually see you do something about it, my beloved Pharaoh, I’m not going to stop!”

“That’s your problem, Bakura. Then and now!” Yami exclaimed, pointing his finger at Bakura. “You never understood your position, even when it is staring you in the face! This is the end for you. You’ll be sealed away in the Shadow Realm where you belong!” Yami couldn’t stop the triumphant smirk - from finally pulling the final straw in this eternal game he played with Bakura - that spread across his thin lips.

“Oh. Is that what you’re going to do?”

“Yes. Nothing you say will stop me.”

“Do you really…want to end our game, Pharaoh?” Bakura questioned, tapping the edge of a magic card against his bottom lip. “Be honest with me - you aren’t going to fool me like your little cheerleaders - do you want it to end? To stop this game which has kept you on your toes for these last few years, that began three thousand years ago?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Bakura. I’m ending this for everyone’s sake; not just my own. Fighting for someone else is something you will never understand,” Yami replied, his lips pursed.

You never understood the blessed

Bakura stared at him, and laughed harder. “Is that your big reason? Fighting for a bunch of fools who have no idea who you really are? Come now, Pharaoh! You know that I am the only one who can give you this kind of pleasure. Do you think that your little Yugi could do it on the same level? I surely think not!” He smirked, licking his lips. “You feel it in your soul that we are of the same mind, same fold. Nobody else can give this to you, and I think that secretly, you don’t want this to end!”

“Enough, Bakura!” Yami yelled, his voice rich with the rage that coursed through his thin frame. A part of him knew that the tomb robber was right, that he didn’t want this to end. But the other part of him, that was much stronger, knew what it was that he had to do. He had to seal Bakura away, and end his mental tyranny on the world, and those closest to Yami within that world. Yami knew the connection he had with Bakura ran deep, deep as the scar that remained on his left shoulder blade, but he also knew that such a connection could bring nothing but pain and blood. And that was more than enough to strengthen his resolve. “Enough!”

Too bad today will be your last

The once smirking Ring Spirit gasped, as he felt his chest constrict, his eyes widening. He couldn’t believe it - the Pharaoh actually was sealing him away! The last move in the Shadow Game had been played by the Spirit of the Puzzle, and Bakura could feel his life energy being ripped away by the shadows. He let out a painful, anguished cry, reminiscent of the one given three thousand years ago by the very same man. “This isn’t happening!” Bakura cried, staring in horror at his limbs vanishing right before his eyes. “This isn’t the end! It will not be my end!!”

Yami frowned as he watched the shadows slowly consume his opponent. Never before, when banishing someone to the Shadow Realm, had such regret filled his heart. In a little tucked in alcove of his mind, Yami had hoped that Bakura would be an ally, to stay beside him in his future battles. His mind was indeed sharp, cunning, and his words were very swift. But the ‘could’ve’, ‘would’ve’ and ‘should’ve’ s were too numerous and too unattainable once Yami realized within his heart that Bakura was unreachable. There was no power great enough to convince Bakura to turn away from the path he had set himself on to destruction. He would never change, Yami discovered, no matter how much the Pharaoh wished it deep within himself.

With a final cry, Bakura was completely eaten up by the very darkness he had claimed to be. The dark receded, and Yami was left standing in the vast area the duel had begun in. He sighed, and turned on his heel, walking away. Yet, secure in his victory, the Pharaoh didn’t seem to notice the Eye of his Puzzle glowing a dark blue…

You keep on playin’ those dark Shadow Games

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