Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ When Angels Cry ❯ Fallen ( Chapter 2 )

When Angels Cry 2- Fallen

 

Bakura had been relegated back to the front line, his squadron of fellow warrior- angels more than pleased at their comrade's return. But- although the battles were just as bloody and just as heated as before, he found he did not take as much pleasure in them as he had before.

The angel had become absent and distracted much of the time, and it was beginning to worry Malik- who had become the closes thing to a friend Bakura possessed in Heaven's host.

 

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“All right Bakura, what in God's name is wrong with you? The way you act- it's as though you're not really here, as though you're somewhere else entirely, and it's really beginning to worry us. You've been so different since your return from the mortal realm. Did something happen while you were there?”

“…I have not been absent minded.”

“Bakura, you almost cut my arm off instead of that demon's yesterday.”

“I'm sure you're exaggerating.”

“You just put your sword in the kitchen and hung your lunch in the armoury!” exclaimed Malik.

 

Bakura looked up, and indeed, there was a leather bag of rations hanging from the `wall' of the tent that served as a makeshift armoury in the angelic camp.

 

“Perhaps there is some truth in what you say.” Bakura admitted, re-claiming the bag from the hook it sat on.

“So tell me. What happened?”

“There was this mortal…” he started hesitantly. Actually, he wasn't even sure what it was that distracted him so. But that was where the exploits in the mortal realm started, so he felt it best to start from the beginning. Maybe he could pinpoint what was bothering him.

 

“Oh really? Do tell. Was she good-looking?” asked the other angel mischievously.

Bakura looked at the man with the tawny-gold wings with an expression somewhat akin to shock. “It wasn't like that you idiot.”

“I'm sure.”

“For one thing, it was a he and for a second thing, he is a child. So no it definitely was not like that.”

“Oh. So what's wrong then? How in God's name did a child manage to distract you this much?”

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Now that he looked back on what had occurred, Bakura had made several connections, and had a pretty accurate idea of what had him so distracted. You see, he was not accustomed to worrying about others- well save those in his group of angelic defenders, but that feeling was entirely different from this new variation that was haunting his every waking moment. He worried that the child would be attacked by demons, that they would hurt him- or worse.

Bakura supposed it was because of the way he'd died that his mind was able to so easily conjure up such terrible images of exactly what the demons could do to the child. Not only that, he hadn't heard even a hint of what was going on- and just when his interest had been piqued.

 

“Bakura!”

 

Both angels swivelled their heads to see a familiar (to Bakura at least) set of blue wings.

“What is it Dartz?”

“The Archangel wants to speak to you about the situation with the child.”

“Very well.” Bakura said and left the tent, Malik shaking his head bewilderedly behind him.

 

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The two entered the rooms of the Archangel, who gave both of them brief nods of acknowledgement before diving right into conversation.

 

“The council has voted unanimously.”

“Took them long enough...” Bakura muttered under his breath.

“And they have decided that the child Yami Atemu is to be re-assigned a Guardian.”

“What about the demon situation? Have they found out why the boy was approached by demons? Or why his previous Guardian disappeared?”

Ignoring his questions, the Archangel continued. “They have chosen you for this job, Bakura.”

His jaw dropped. Him? The most reluctant angel in the entirety of Heaven? A Guardian?

 

“What the hell?”

“Captain Akefia Bakura! We do not speak that way here, thank you!”

“I apologise.” he said smoothly, mind racing.

“From now on you will be pulled from battle. Young Malik can take over your place as Captain of the Fifth Battalion and you will come and live in the Upper Quarter here in Heaven.”

“But what if I'm needed?” questioned the white-haired man.

“Don't worry- the Abyss warriors will be fine.”

“I meant by the child. Is it allowed to go and see him?” he clarified with a sinking stomach. He knew what her answer was likely to be- but he still thought it merited a check anyway.

“You know the rules- we do not consort actively with mortals. You are not to go down there.” she said sharply, leaning forward in her wooden chair, dark blue eyes piercing.

 

Refusing to allow this angel to see his annoyed anger, Bakura presented her with one of his impossible to read blank masks.

“Very well then.”

She nodded, giving a warily relieved smile. “You may leave.”

 

Bakura rose from the narrow-backed chair made especially to suit winged individuals and gave the Archangel a shallow bow from the waist.

“Archangel, Dartz.” he said by way of farewell and left.

 

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Time passed in the Divine Realm of Heaven and Bakura had finally begun to settle into the unfamiliar lifestyle of peace. He did not spend nearly as much time with Malik as he once had- in fact he spent barely any time with Malik anymore, what with Malik being busy in the front line.

Nowadays he spent time with one or two of the few angels that didn't drive him completely up the wall with their `holier-than-thou' attitude (especially annoying in an angel) - either Dartz or a younger angel who lived in the Upper Quarter as well named Ryou.

 

Bakura had the suspicion that the Archangel had asked for reports on him, to check that he hadn't gone rushing down to the Mortal Realm to check on his charge.

Of course, many of these ill-thought out spy-schemes met with an immovable block- save one or two which carried only… certain information back to their master.

 

The white-winged angel actually welcomed these attempts to spy on his movements in a way- anything to keep his mind away from those worrisome images his mind kept inventing and throwing before him as he attempted to sleep.

 

His condition continued to decline as time went on- he slept very little due to these nightmares, ate less (because he tended to forget to eat because he was that stressed) and he had become practically a winged skeleton.

 

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“Bakura that is the last straw!”

“What?” asked the bewildered angel.

“`What?' he says!” exclaimed Ryou, throwing up his hands. “This has got to stop, Bakura. When was the last time you slept? The bags under your eyes could be used to transport supplies to the Abyss!”

“Or the last time you ate, for that matter.” added Dartz mildly.

 

Bakura thought. “I think I ate on… that… time on that day… And as for sleep, I'm pretty sure I slept for an hour or so last Tuesday…”

The white-winged angel shrank as Ryou told him off. “You haven't slept, full stop! I'm willing to bet my wings that you haven't slept since you arrived here! And if you've eaten even one meal in the past moon, I'll eat my sword! You look worse than the Devil's experiment with undead zombies! His prototype experiment.”

 

Bakura winced at that last statement. He couldn't look that bad. Could he? Those prototypes were widely agreed to be the most disgusting waste of magical energies in recorded history! Angelic recorded history.

 

“Ryou's exaggerating a tad, but you do look terrible. Why aren't you sleeping?” asked Dartz kindly.

Bakura's eyes turned grim. “I, more than anyone know what humans are capable of. And if humans are capable of such deeds, I can only imagine what demons- freed, shape-shifting demons are capable of.”

“As his Guardian, you would know if harm befell Atemu, Bakura.”

“Not until too late. And I would be unable to do anything anyway- the Archangel has me watched, remember.”

 

Dartz sighed. Bakura was impossible to reason with when he had his mind set on a theory. “I will try and find some valerian for you. If you add some to your tea before bed you should have a dreamless sleep.”

“And Bakura, I will spoon-feed you if I must. Wasting yourself away will do Atemu no favours if trouble does befall him.” Ryou said, skilfully prodding Bakura's sense of duty to life.

Bakura sighed. “You are right.”

“Let's go find something to eat.” Ryou said, pulling his white winged friend into the air, his own pale green wings fluttering.

“Fine then. But you most certainly will not be spoon-feeding me as though I were a baby.”

“Would I dare? Besides, knowing you, you'd bite the spoon in half.” he said dryly.

 

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The boy known as Yami Atemu had been asking his aunt the same question everyday for several years since the time in the park; “Where's Kura? Can I see him today?” And he would always receive the same answer; “Not today sweetie- but I'm sure Bakura will come and see you soon.”

 

He'd even threaded the small feather and cross onto a piece of strong cord he'd found and he had worn it until his aunt noticed, and had presented him with a thinner gold chain from her jewellery box to suspend the precious items from.

 

Seto had never understood what his cousin found so special about that necklace- it was just a feather and a cross.

 

Even if sometimes, just sometimes the feather seemed to glow slightly with an ethereal luminescence that was paler than sunlight and purer than moonlight.

 

But that was okay, because Yami Atemu (or Atemu as he preferred it to be shortened to) didn't need for him to understand. It was enough that Seto refused to allow the other children to tease his smaller cousin for wearing a necklace, and even helped him manage the catch on the chain when he needed help.

 

Atemu was six when he stopped asking where Kura was.

 

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It was a cold winter's day when it happened. Seto was ten, his brother Mokuba five, and Atemu was nine. They were on their way back home (from what, Atemu never remembered.) and suddenly there was another car- and they were sliding on the treacherous winter road.

 

The last thing he remembered seeing was his aunt clutching the long white feather Kura had given her, and she was mumbling softly; “Please, come and help them… the children… please… tenshi help… the children…” The feather glowed brightly, becoming a nimbus of white light and Atemu knew no more.

 

Upon waking in the hospital his first words were; “Why didn't Kura help us?”

 

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Bakura had been playing chess with Ryou when he felt the summons. He leapt up from the table and raced for the door.

“Bakura, wait!” called Ryou, grabbing his forearm. Said angel whirled around, fury written across his catlike features; a very dangerous light in his red eyes turned them even more of a bloodlike hue than usual, giving him more of a demonic look than an angelic one.

“I need to go.” he said, voice like silk on steel.

“I never said you couldn't.” his close to identical friend said calmly. “I believe that I said wait. Give me a minute to collect my sword. I also believe that Dartz will also wish to accompany us.”

The fury left his face, but the fey fire in his eyes stayed.

 

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Not two minutes later the three tenshi were furiously beating their wings, using glamour to avoid sight.

“Where did the call come from, Bakura?” asked Dartz (whom had joined them a brief time after Ryou had finished speaking.)

“Down here.” Bakura said, spiralling down toward the ground even as he spoke.

What met their eyes was nothing short of horrific. The other car had shoved their own into a tree, turning it into not much more than a lump of scrap metal.

Atemu's aunt lay slumped against a tree, and it was obvious she was mortally wounded. His uncle was limp across the steering wheel, face bloody where it had collided with the glass windscreen.

 

Somehow Atemu and Seto had been hurled clear from the carnage.

 

Ryou immediately set to work slicing the twisted hunk of metal that had once been a door from the backseat of the car and he reached into the death-trap and carefully extricated young Mokuba, deft hands checking for broken bones.

Dartz went straight for the limp form of Seto, checking for a pulse. Several ribs were broken, and it was likely that the boy's arm was also broken, judging from the awkward angle it was bent at. A thin trickle of blood snaked down the prone boy's cheek, seeping from a cut above his eyebrow obviously gained from his collision with the road when he'd been hurled free of the wreckage.

 

Needless to say, Bakura made a direct beeline for Atemu.

 

“Atemu?” he asked, touching the boy's cheek. No response. With growing dread he reached two slender fingers to the boy's neck and waited expectantly for a pulse, or even the small movement of the throat that would have indicated he was still breathing.

 

None came.

 

“Dartz, Ryou! He's not breathing!” he yelled.

“Oh God! Bakura, I'm so sorry.” gasped Ryou.

“Check again Bakura.” ordered Dartz. “Maybe you missed…”
“What do I have to say to get it into your head Dartz? He is not breathing and his heart's not beating. He's dead damn it! I was too late!” he yelled at the aqua haired angel.

 

Angrily he rubbed a hand across his face, dashing away the tears that threatened to fall. He'd failed. He was the boy's Guardian, and he was supposed to protect him. And the boy had trusted him to be there for him.

 

He let out a growl and punched the ground, causing it to shake slightly. Then he remembered something from the time on the battlefield. While immortal, angels could still be injured, but they could also heal. He was an angel- and if the boy`s soul had not yet moved on he could heal his body. But- the Archangel had him watched. He was already bound to be punished as it was but for this…

 

He looked back down at the small boy. A wayward breeze blew snowflakes into his hair, and tossed a lock of golden hair over the boy's dark-skinned features.

As Bakura softly brushed the errant hair and snow from his charge's face he knew he didn't care about punishment. He'd already made his decision.

 

Nodding to himself he stood, brushing snow from his person before addressing the group at large.

 

“You should both move further away. Take those two- leave the adults, there's nothing we can do for them now. Take them to a healer or something.”

“Why? What are you planning Bakura?” asked Ryou suspiciously.

“I can't just leave him this way. It was not his time.”

“Bakura…”

“He only died because I couldn't be here to protect him. You can't tell me demons had nothing to do with this.”

“Bakura, it must have been God's will that the child died- you can't go against Him like that!” objected Ryou. Dartz (wisely) stayed out of the quarrel, knowing Bakura well enough to know that Bakura would do what he wanted, no matter what he or Ryou had to say about it.

“God's will be damned!” Bakura roared. “I am not letting this child die!”

“You come close to blasphemy Bakura.”

“You know what, I really couldn't care less.” the white-winged angel retorted, blood-red eyes flashing. “Why shouldn't I tell it like it is? You and Dartz either help me or get the hell out of my way.”

“You know we can't help you Bakura.” started Ryou, sighing. “But we won't get in your way.”

Bakura gave him a grateful look of acceptance. “I didn't expect you to want to face the punishment for it.”

 

So Ryou and Dartz collected the other children and left the sad scene behind.

 

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“So how do I do this.” he muttered. He had never had the need to heal someone back on the battlefield, because no-one had been injured in his vicinity (likely due to the fact that he felt it his duty to return those under his command to their tents relatively unscathed)

He had seen it done often enough though, enough to know that you had to find the fatal injury to heal it.

 

Okay, so where was the injury that had killed his Atemu… Wait- his Atemu? The child was his charge. Not his. He shook his head. Carefully he ran his hands over Atemu's neck and thoracic cavity to check for perhaps a broken neck, or even a broken rib that could have punctured a lung. But he found nothing.

 

He frowned. There was not a mark on him! He seemed just fine- except for the fact that he was dead.

 

“His heart was stopped.” came a gravelly voice from behind him. He turned, and saw the signature black tattered wings of a Fallen one- and this one had sandy gold hair.

“And you came to know this… how?” asked Bakura suspiciously.

“Please.” scoffed Marik. “You must be really upset over him to not smell the stench of demons all over this place.”

“As helpful as that statement was, I'd like you to kindly shut up while I figure out how to re-start his heart. Thank you.”

 

The dark angel put his hands to his heart with a gasp. “What's this? Bakura's going to resurrect a dead mortal and break his precious rules?” he mocked.

“Shut up Marik!” Bakura hissed through gritted teeth.

“You don't even know the rudimentary basics of the healing arts do you?” Marik asked in a more sober tone.

“I never needed to.” the white-haired angel snapped.

He felt a hand clap his shoulder. “I don't have the ability since I fell, but I do remember how it's done. We'd best start before his soul drifts away.”

“You mean you're going to help me?” asked Bakura disbelievingly.

“There won't be anything to help you with in a minute.”

“Fine, now tell me how to make this stupid healing power work.”

“Place your hands just above the injury- in this case above his heart should suffice.” reeled off the black-winged man. “Concentrate on pulling your life-force into your hands.”

 

Bakura knelt beside Atemu and held his hands over the boy's still chest, closing his eyes. He focused and he felt… something race towards his hands. Unbeknownst to the angel, his hands were glowing a light shade of blue.

 

“Now try and send it at… well the best way to explain it is a `blank-spot' per se in the injured party.” Marik explained.

Bakura didn't bother acknowledging the other winged male, instead following the instructions and pushing the strange sensation coalescing in his hands into the `blank-spot' in the unmoving child lying prone on the ground.

When he sensed the `blankness' had gone he stopped and opened his eyes.

 

Marik had disappeared, leaving Bakura alone with Atemu in the clearing.

 

He hesitantly reached his shaking fingertips to Atemu's neck. There- a faint flutter! But was he breathing also?

Bakura leant in, and felt a light puff of warm air issue from the boy's mouth- sweet with a light tinge of vanilla.

 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he sat up. Then he heard it- a loud wailing sound. Which meant the mortals had finally sent assistance. He would have to leave the boy to the care of his own kind now.

 

Bakura brushed another of the boy's wild gold bangs from his face before smiling softly to himself.

 

“Goodbye for now Atemu. Stay safe.” he told the boy. Standing, the angel brushed yet more snowflakes from his clothing and once more took to the skies.

 

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“Who's Kura?” asked the twenty-something nurse looking after the nine-year old Atemu after he woke up.

“Don't mind that right now, Kimi. Yami Atemu isn't it?” The boy nodded. “Yami, you must have someone up there who really likes you. By all laws of Physics, you should be so much mincemeat!”

“Forget that, he's got a guardian angel hovering over him.” the nurse muttered.

Atemu gave a sad smile. If that were true, Bakura would have come to save him, and his family would be okay. He was rather lucky, in his opinion that Bakura was not his `guardian angel' or he'd be dead.

 

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Hiss CRACK

 

Hiss CRACK

 

Hiss CRACK

 

Hiss CRACK

 

Bakura winced at that last one, half biting his own tongue off in a doggedly determined effort to ignore the stinging of the metal tipped whip tearing off strips of his skin between his wings and on his lower back.

 

He'd endured worse, and he'd be damned if he'd scream for their sick amusement.

 

Sure, they were angels. But angels who were big on severe punishments.

 

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“For the crimes of going against the Humanity Treaty and wilfully setting foot on mortal ground, for interfering with the course of a mortal life, and most heinous of all, for ignoring God's will and misusing your angelic power of healing to resurrect an already dead mortal, you are sentenced to spend seven years in the Hall of Punishment. Do you have anything to say to the Archangel Melanie, Bakura?” droned the monotonous voice of the angel reading the proclamation of his so called `crimes' and his intended punishment.

 

“Except that she's a heartless bitch who won't allow me to do my job properly and wouldn't let me protect the boy in the first place? Only that Atemu was killed using demonic power. Aside from that, I've nothing to say to her.”

 

Archangel Melanie waved a hand wearily and Bakura was hurled to his feet and they began to pull him from the room, Bakura holding his head high. More than a few faces seemed troubled, as he'd known they would at his revelation that it was demonic power which had originally taken his charge's life. He paused just before the exit.

 

“Goodbye Malik, Ryou. Dartz.” he nodded, before sweeping grandly from the room as though headed for a ball rather than an angelic form of torture.

 

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`Definitely big on punishment...' he thought hazily as they brought out the spiked cat `o' nine tails. This was going to hurt even worse, because this time there was no way they'd miss his wings…

 

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“Oh my? Whatever is a heaven-bound angel doing in our midst?”

“I reconsidered your offer.”

“And?”

“I have no choice but to accept.”

“You are sure?”

The angel paused, remembering a sweet vanilla scent. “I can do nothing else.”