Where am I?

I found myself in a desolate village, dominated by sand and stone. The houses themselves were poorly constructed and uncared for, but they still housed signs of residence, if not now. Clothes hung on lines and swayed in the weak breeze.

“Bakura...”

The name would have given me a deadly chill, but the voice that called for him was so lovely... so full of love and affection... I turned --- still slightly perplexed on where I was --- and sought out the voice, treading on the sandy path that passed the houses and huts.  The calling continued, only a bit more worried.

“Bakura, where have you gone?”

I peeked around a corner, slightly hovering my fingers over the stone, and found the scene of a poor-looking well, undoubtably lacking water. I saw a woman with silver hair and a tint of purple by this well, her back to me. Her dress was tattered and torn, looking as if she’d worn it for ages. I saw her head tilt and twist, but her fingers and movements were hesitant, and I immediately and regrettably knew she was blind.

I tried to lean against the wall to make myself less noticeable, but somehow my whole hand just went through the stone. My arm followed my hand and threw me completely off-balance, and exposed, I fell into clear view and face-planted, away from my shelter. Once recovering my composure, I looked up quickly and prepared myself to apologize for spying.

She didn’t turn around once, still in her search. I was pretty sure I let out an audible squeak on the way down... was she deaf, too? I looked down at my hand, and touched it with my other. It was solid enough for me. How did it go through the wall?

Excuse me, ma’am? my voice tried, but didn’t come out. I touched my lips, confused. Was I in some sort of dream? It had that vague feeling that my consciousness was like in dreams. Did I pass out when... Bakura’s Ring went haywire?

“Boo!”

As childish as it was, I still jumped from the sound. The mysterious woman had a similar reaction, where she turned quickly and faced the well once more. A small child was poking his head of short, silver hair around the corner. He laughed heartedly, and smiled with an unbelievably cute smile. I couldn’t believe my eyes when my whole being twanged with this shot of familiarity.

The woman scolded, “Bakura, how many times have I told you to stay away from this? What if you fell down it?”

“As if,” the child stepped away from the well and slowly paced about, arms behind his back proudly. “I can take care of myself. I’m not a baby.”

“You are my baby. My only, beautiful baby. I don’t know what I would ever do if you maimed yourself.”

“Aw, mom,” he whined. “When will I ever do things alone?”

The woman moved so that I could see her face, and I gasped without sound. She was not exactly a looker, but she was the most captivating one could naturally look. Unfortunately, her one eye was covered by a cloth - most likely to compensate for a gouged eye - and the other was of crisp white, absent of any colour or pupil. She knelt down and reached out, sensing where Bakura was. When she touched the top of his head, she followed her sense of touch and brought him close.

“We can’t afford such things,” she murmured. “We have to... to stick together. All of us, the whole village of Kul Elna.”

“...I know,” he said, then brightly added, “I’ll be apart of the raid to bring back stuff for you, mommy.”

She smiled what seemed a rueful smile. “You’re going to steal for me?” she said sadly.

“Yeah. And make ya happy.”

Her eyes narrowed softly as she continued to smile remorsefully. The child looked up at her face and noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“... thing is, honey, I don’t want you to steal from people,” she confessed. “It’s wrong... but if we want to survive... I don’t know what to think. Ever since your father...” she cut herself short. Her son pursed his lips stubbornly.

“I don’t care about him anymore,” he announced triumphantly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “He can drop dead for all I care. But I’m gonna be a raider, and we’ll live. You’ll see, mommy.”

His mother sighed, smiling in defeat. Bakura took her by the hand and lead her forward, toward the main road, toward where I was currently residing. Not one spark of question, curiosity, or anything, entered the small one’s eyes. I kept seeing flashes of the Bakura I knew replacing that lovable face, and I was terrified.

They just passed through me. Out into the street... I looked at my hand once more.

What is going on...?

“I think the raid is here! Mom, let’s go see them!”

***

“Move aside, Tahirah! Unworthy wench!”

Bakura’s mother fell back from a blow to the face, and she crashed to the ground. Men of gruff exterior and demeanor growled and bore their teeth in smirks and grimaces as the rest of the villagers emerged and took their share of the raid. Tahirah had joined them and was collecting what she and Bakura needed, but the men chased her off. One just hit her, which had caused her to fall to the ground.

“You come last, like the rest of the weak and handicapped!” the one who struck her snarled, straightening up and rolling his massive shoulders. “Wait your turn. You’re not important to this village...”

“You hit my mom!” Bakura seethed, and jumped up at the man, landing on his back from behind. The thief responded with some frenzied dance, trying to swing the child off. By the time that Bakura left some heavy nail and teeth marks, the man had grabbed him and set him on the ground roughly.

“Idiotic brat!” he shouted, hitting to chastise the kid. Bakura distanced himself a bit after, tears welling in his eyes from the punishment. The man sneered, “How about this? If you grow up to be strong and worthy, we’ll let you fight for your mother. She’s already dragging us down, like the rest of them. She’s your responsibility. Do you understand that?”

Bakura glared at him and said nothing. The men laughed and turned back to their prize.

“My dear Bakura...” Tahirah fumbled to get up into a kneeling position, and turned her eye to blankly and blindly look in a direction. She opened her arms. “Did they hurt you...?”

Bakura loped over and touched her hands, so that she could find and grasp his shoulders. “Naw,” he lied.

Tahirah touched his face and felt him flinch when she touched a certain spot. She said simply, “Never lie to your mother.”

“...I’m sorry, mum,” he sighed, and some tears rolled down his cheeks from mere childish habit. “But I will protect you. That’s not a lie.”

“That’s very sweet of you, dear,” she smiled, but her eyes seemed sad. “But I don’t ever want you to risk your safety for my own.”

***

I felt dizzy after all these time lapses; I felt like I was on some delaying roller coaster, that lurched to a stop and shot forward again, leaving me with whiplash. I had now accepted - though it took me a long while to do so - that I was apart of Bakura’s memory.

Now it was night, the darkest that I was ever apart of. The only lights where the torches that helped the men at the edge of the village to see and look for intruders. I was looking through the window of the home of Tahirah and Bakura. The child was sound asleep, whereas Tahirah was holding him close, enough to allow him the lullaby of her heartbeat.

“Oh, Bakura... I wish you to be happy so badly...” she sighed. I looked at my hands thoughtfully. “...I am a terrible mother...”

No, you’re not, I countered, knowing fully already she would not hear me. I couldn’t touch anyone, and they couldn’t hear me; I had already tried against the man that hurt them both, but I was unnoticed. Don’t feel at fault. He... loves you very much. No child that had a good mother would hate her.

It was so very, very hard to admit that Bakura, once, was able to love.

Of course, Tahirah did not hear this, and neatly settled Bakura in some fur, protecting him from the cold.

I heard a loud, tremendous horn, and straightened up. Tahirah did as well, and scrambled along the ground until she touched the wall, then felt for the door. She stepped out and stood still, listening.

“We’re under attack! Kul Elna’s in danger! Pick up your arms! Help the women and children!”

“Attack?” Tahirah murmured in bewilderment, and as the teenage boy ran by screaming the news, she called urgently, “Attack? By whom?”

“Soldiers!” he cried. “Soldiers from the Pharoah’s Guard! We’re doomed!”

This was it. Bakura wasn’t lying... his village was actually attacked, and will soon be slaughtered. If that were true, then... I stared at Tahirah in horror and helplessness.

Her fate is set.

“Whut’shappenin?” Bakura complained drowsily, turning in his bed. Tahirah tried to get back inside toward him in haste, and that resulted with her stumbling and crashing into some furniture, creating such audible noise. Torchlight danced menacingly outside, and I heard the sound of screams and swords and bodies dropping. Bakura jumped out of bed and at his mother, who was somewhat trapped under the shelf that fell on her.

“What’s happening?”

Tahirah shrugged the furniture off and immediately grabbed Bakura firmly as if she could truly see him. “We’re leaving, now!” she said firmly. “Everything’s going to be fine! Don’t you worry, love...”

By the time Tahirah had taken Bakura in her arms and ran out the house, the battle had moved to the road in front of their home. Men of the opposing forces merged with each other, then fell apart once one or the other bled to their sword or spear. The soldiers wore emblems and helmets of their force, whereas the thieves of the village were identified with mere clothes. As far as I knew, Kul Elna was losing.

I realized that the thieves that fell were not killed, not quite. They were merely wounded to the point of paralyzing, and I wondered what they had planned...

Bakura had squirmed out of Tahirah’s arms, landed on the ground, and ran into the crowd. I didn’t even notice until I heard Tahirah’s shriek;

“Bakura!!”

I followed. The white head bobbing in the crowd was not too hard to lose, and once I was right behind him, he had approached a fallen thief without hesitation and stole their sword, which had some blood stained on it. Bakura seemed dazed and terrified by it, but held it and faced the enemy. His face was stern.

“You’ll pay, you bad people!” he roared with his child voice, which didn’t go much over the already-present thunder of battle. “You’ll pay!”

“Bakura, you come here this instant!!” Tahirah ordered shrilly, still out at the edge of the battlefield. Her one eye showed intense worry. Bakura ran up to the rim where the thieves and soldiers fought, determination in his eyes. I grimaced, but my own worry wanted to smother me as I followed.

“Bakura?! Bakura?!”

“Hold on, mum! I wanna make them PAY!”

Bakura, you idiot, I scolded him. You’ll...

Right before he got to the boundary, though, there was a shrill scream of bloody murder. My head snapped in the direction and I watched in horror and grim acceptance that Tahirah was now sentenced to death. A soldier mounted on a horse had slipped by the defense and now rose weapon again Tahirah with a malicious expression. He had sliced Tahirah, it seemed; she held a hand to her face, and black oozed dripped and stained anything it touched. Bakura had heard her.

“Mom? Mom?!” he shouted, and fought his way back through the crowd of fellow, fighting theives, back toward his mother. He dragged the sword alongside himself, heaving of the weight and adrenaline.

He was freed from the crowd’s clutches, and his eyes widened at the scene. Tahirah was dragging her body along the ground, trying to escape, and the man laughed, dismounting his stallion and following. Bakura’s teeth bared, and he lifted up the sword he held. He ran at the soldier with a battlecry, and hit the soldier’s hip with the scimitar. However, the child did not know which edge of the blade to hit with, and only hit the soldier with the dull side. The soldier undoubtably cursed out in pain, but he still remained uninjured.

“Why, you dirty rat!” he snarled, working as fast as lightning and hitting the child with a kick, sending him flying near his mother. Bakura, sniffling angrily, brought his violet eyes up, only to have them widen at the spear the man was pointing at him.

“You’re going to die first,” he smirked. “I don’t care to take you as a sacrifice. I’m going to kill you for my own enjoyment. Let Muut have mercy on your damned soul, young sin!”

My heart lurched at the danger of the child, and I leapt forward. Only... when the spear pierced the air and entered another body, it wasn’t his.

“Mom? Mommy?!” he screamed at the spearhead that drove through his mother’s stomach. Her blood speckled the ground darkly, and her life left her in the from of scarlet water that dripped from her mouth, nose, and additional wound on her face. She coughed, spurting more of her life away.

“Run, my son...” she whispered. Her hands shakily grabbed his shoulders, then one stroked his head motherly, and she kissed his forehead intensely, a one last goodbye. Bakura’s forehead was drenched with her blood, but that was the least of his worries. His mother... “Run... as far away as... you can from this place... “

“I’m not leaving you!” he shrieked. “No, never! I... I’m supposed to protect you!!”

“I love you, Bakura,” she wheezed quietly, her breath dying. “Live free... live... happy...I love...---”

“Stupid bitch!”

The spearhead left through the hole it created, only to come back in a sudden stab, right through Tahirah’s heart. Her eye widened, and stayed widened. She was dead.

“MOM!” Bakura sobbed, bringing her close to him, despite the blood he was doused with. Tahirah rolled fully to the ground and lain still, face to the dark heavens. Bakura beat her side in an attempt to wake her up. He kept nudging her, patting her, but she did not wake...

His tears fell rapidly as he shook his head, mixing with his mother’s blood. He refused to believe, but the truth hit hard. “N-no...” his voice cracked. “M-mom...”

“She took too long to croak, that whore. Now it’s your turn.”

Bakura was too busy mourning, and I watched as the soldier prepared himself. But I just couldn’t let this happen. My heart jerked and urged me forth, urged me to run at Bakura and save. I followed my heart, yelled out his name, and came to him.

What scared and surprised me was that actually did something.

I had went to scoop the child in my arms, my mind expecting the vain attempt, but my form touched flesh. My mind froze at this; What...?

“What the hell?!” the man shouted, doubling back. “W-Where did you come from?! What black magic is this?!”

Was my will this strong, to help Bakura? Was it so strong, that it allowed myself to be seen, and to be touched, as well as to touch another? Am I influencing things?

I only had a second to take what I came for and go. I lifted Bakura up and ran for it.

“Mom! Mom!” he squirmed, wanting to go back to his mother’s body. I just ran with his struggling body.

“There’s no escape, witch!!”

I swerved into an alleyway, trying my best to evade the soldier. He must have mounted his horse now, because I heard the hoofbeats. Unfamiliar with my surroundings, I just ran.

“Who are you?! Let go of me!!” Bakura yelled at me, his tears still flowing. “My mother...!”

“I’m sorry,” I told him quietly. “I’m sorry. But please, Bakura, wake up!”

“Wake up? This is a bad dream?” he asked, at once stopping his frenzy. I immediately decided to follow along.

“Yes! When you wake up, you’re going to be nice, safe, and warm by your mother. The sun will be up and shining, and you’ll be able to play.”

“Wake up, wake up!” he counseled himself, hitting the side of his head and pinching his cheeks. As he was preoccupied with that, I continued running.

That moment of triumph was diminished as fast as a wind blew out a small candle. I ran around the corner and met a dead end, a rock face that was the side of the village. I slid to a stop, panting, and planned to go back and take another route. Only, the soldier caught up, and was now glaring daggers at me. He dismounted and approached us, and each time he came closer, I stepped back. I finally was pressed against the wall with child Bakura in my arms. I slid to the ground with him, who still persisted in trying to wake up. I looked up in terror at the man, and he grinned.

“Time to say goodbye.”

Bakura now realized the trouble that we were in, and he wailed. The spear was prepared, and I curled my body around the child’s, to protect him. I managed on outcry before the spear pierced me;

”Live, Bakura!!”

***

I found myself in my ruined apartment again.

I realized it when I was staring up at the ceiling. Glass and broken wood irritated my back, but I didn’t care. I was heaving heavily, unable to drive the terrible visions of pain and suffering from my mind. My arms were numb and stiff, and I couldn’t comprehend on what I was doing with them in my absent consciousness. It was only that I realized it when I felt heaving breaths other than my own.

Bakura --- the malicious, evil bastard that caused me so much pain, the one I knew now, the one that looked so different from his child self --- had his face pressed against my stomach, and my arms were aiding him in place, wrapped in comfort. His hands had their fingers burrowed in my clothes tightly, and his breathing shakily hinted that he was breaking down, or recovering from one.

I waited fearfully; I didn’t know whether to let go and let him kill me or hold him close and let him choke in suffocation, then kill me. I waited until both our breathing patterns balanced out. Then I let go. He didn’t move immediately.

He eventually moved away from me, with evasive eyes, and sat up, arm propped up by his bent leg. His gaze grew faint and blank, I could only shuffle back to my feet hesitantly.

“...Bakura...?” I whispered. He didn’t answer me. I felt very frightened right now; what will he do to me now?

“...You may take whatever you want with you back.”

He didn’t seem to have addressed me directly, but I was the only one around him that he could speak with. I didn’t dare ask him anything, so I went and got what I wanted. I scooped up the coffee jars and slipped into the kitchen, where I picked up a leather bag and began packing. I took some necessities for Ayla too, since I doubted Marik would let her take anything. I brought her favourite food, and I took some pictures of us for memories’ sake, and lastly, I took my art supplies; fresh paper inside a binder and my brushes and pencils. Once I was done rushing, I returned back to Bakura, who had now stood up and faced his back to me. I walked to him over my wrecked furniture, and he heard me coming, so therefore turned to face me. My face paled at the movement, but all I saw was an emotionless face and dull eyes.

He was holding the picture that started it all. The one of the child and his mother. His eyes moved back to it in silent contemplation, then he held it out to me. I thought it was a trick at first, but when he patiently waited for me, I hesitantly took it, and held it to my heart. He stepped aside and I exited, with him following.

Sweat was entering and mixing with the blood in my scratches and cuts, and when I got into the cool air of destroyed Kyoto, I groaned at the irritation. I was too occupied by said pain that I tripped in exhaustion, for some reason. Hands shot out to me and kept me upright.

“Careful, Vivi.” Bakura murmured, distant.

That’s right.

Bakura.

Once his hands left my body, one went to my lower back and nudged me forward, and we walked, his hand never leaving the pressure. We got to Diabound, and he helped me up as the serpent part allowed access. We settled, and were soon on our way to the castle, with an awkward silence.

Was the Bakura I witnessed today --- the child and the one now --- truly the side that exists within himself...?