Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bakura died once before, which is partially how he got into this whole inhabiting-jewelry-made-from-the-molten-remains-of-his-family situation. He’s not about to do it again, or at the very least, not before he’s gotten his revenge. He has a plethora of ancient, dark magic at his fingertips, and he’s going to use it to conquer any obstacles. That was how he survived Shadi, it was how he survived the accident that took half of Ryou’s family, and it’s how he’s going to survive this stupid boarding school Ryou’s dad put him in. If he has to suffer the indignity of being ten years old again, he’s not going to add insult to injury by letting these other shitty little ten-year-olds push him around.

Ryou is way too polite to get these entitled little brats off his case, anyway. His father can shove him in this school while they’re abroad for the collaboration with some British museum, but just because some of their parents are in the same field of work, it doesn’t mean that Ryou’s classmates will automatically be nice to him. In fact, the gremlins feel perfectly at ease making fun of him for his accent, his lack of sports ability, and his interest in all things spooky or occult.

Ryou is a pushover, and that’s why he’s hiding in the backstage of the St. Balthasar Preparatory School for Boys theatre, trying to avoid getting his head shoved into a toilet. The theatre contains several rooms stuffed full of random props and set pieces, and Ryou is currently crouched in the one between the green room and a practice room, in the dark, between two dusty life-size portraits of equally dusty British noblemen. He has one hand clapped over his mouth to quiet his breathing from when he scampered in here, and the other is holding the Ring fast against his chest under his school uniform to keep the points from tinkling. Bakura hasn’t taken charge of the situation yet, but he’s already decided that he will if he needs to.

A door bangs open against a wall a room away, followed by several sets of footsteps, signaling that the other boys are still on his trail. Ryou tenses, waiting there in the darkened room, ready to run again if necessary.

The door opens. Someone hits the lights, but only half of them actually turn on, flickering haphazardly.

“You in here, Bakura?” one of the boys calls. Ryou shrinks back against the portrait behind him. Bakura’s own patience at the way Ryou is choosing to deal with this is wearing thin; if he were in charge, all he’d have to do is let out a little shadow magic and those snotty jerks would never bother them again.

“Come on out. We just wanna talk.” Not likely.

“Yeah, we wanna play a fun game with you.” The lights flicker again.

“You think he went out the other door already?”

“Come on, let’s take a look around.” Footsteps walk further into the room. Bakura knows exactly what kind of game he’s going to play with these boys if they try to stick Ryou’s head in another toilet, and highly doubts that the souls of three egotistical little pricks stuck into unused theatre props would be able to scream loud enough for any professors to hear them.

The lights flicker again. The footsteps are getting closer.

One of the lights pops and goes out. Ryou jumps reflexively, tries to steady himself on the portrait in back of him, and then he’s falling back through it, his leg kicking out at the same time against the one in front of him. There’s a hinge inside the frame, and the center panel of the picture has swung open, a hidden roll of canvas dropping between the frame Ryou just fell through and the hinged panel, covering up the portrait and leaving Ryou on the floor behind the painting. The first painting slams to the ground with a loud thud, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“What was that?”

“Where’d he go?”

“He’s gone!”

“He’s gotta be here.”

“No, the picture, he’s gone!” If Bakura were in charge right now, he knows exactly what he’d—

“Whooo disturrrbs my slumberrrr?” Who the hell is—

Holy shit, that’s Ryou.

“What?”

“What was that?”

The lights flicker again.

“Whaaat foulll maggottsss darrrre intruuude?”

Ryou is lying on the ground, covered in dust, and desperately throwing his voice into a prop metal helmet.

“Where did the picture go???”

“Youuu shouldd noot haaave cooome!”

Bakura can’t resist. It only takes a second. He pops the last remaining light with shadow magic himself. The room plunges back into darkness, punctuated by three screams of terror.

“Bewaaarre!”

“Run away!” Footsteps slap back towards the door.

“I’m not staying in here with that thing!”

“It’s gonna get us!” The door slams shut behind them.

Ryou keeps lying on the ground until the footsteps are completely gone, and then he scrambles up, dusts some of the storage room off his uniform, and scampers out the other door. It’s another minute before he’s back in the main part of the school, ducking around a few corners to an isolated hallway to let out a burst of quiet chuckles.

To your room, you’re still dirty!

Ryou pauses his chuckling and scampers back the rest of the way to his dorm room, shutting the door behind him and letting out another pleased little chuckle. Whether he can yet perceive these kinds of comments as separate from his own thoughts or not is unclear, but the important part is that it works. He strips the outer layer of his uniform off, smacking at the jacket and shorts until they’re no longer visibly dirtier than any other given schoolboy’s. Then, he puts them back on, grabbing his other school things as well.

“If I go to the library, then no one will notice, probably.” Is he asking Bakura for advice, or is he just trying to convince himself? He sighs, frowning. “I wish I could go back home to Japan...”

Better finish your alibi first.

Ryou sighs again, tugs the strap on his schoolbag further onto his shoulder, and then slips into the library.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Half an hour later, one of the professors stops by to check up on him. Bakura can feel a bland smile paste itself across Ryou’s face.

“And what are you engaged in right now, Bakura?” the professor asks.

“Oh, hello, Professor Williams. I’m just studying,” Ryou replies, voice just as pleasantly benign as his face. “I’ve been trying to practice my language and composition more lately, since Professor Harrison said I had room for improvement.”

“Well, that’s to be expected, but… Bakura, how long have you been studying here in the library?”

“Ever since Professor Harrison told me about my room for improvement, I suppose.”

“No, how long have you been in here today?” the professor presses.

“Oh, you mean how long have I been studying here in the library just today?” As if Ryou didn’t know exactly what the professor meant. The professor nods. “Ever since class was finished for the day.”

It became apparent very early on in the school year that the St. Balthasar end of class bell brought with it a near stampede of boys escaping class to go to their after-school duties and clubs or to escape to the library, common rooms, or playground. The chaos and confusion was a big part of how Ryou avoided being singled out by those three boys most of the time. It was incredibly reasonable that no one would actually notice when Ryou entered the library. Ryou makes a bit of a show of looking at the clock on the wall in the library.

“Has it really been almost two hours already?”

“Yes, which is why I found it odd that Mr. Carmich—”

“I’ve been in here almost two hours, and I still don’t understand the entirety of this week’s assignment!” Ryou frets, not about to let the professor continue to grill him on whatever those three little bastards tried to snitch on him about. Cowards. “Do you think you could explain the difference between active voice and passive voice?” The teacher pauses, a bit puzzled. “We have a test on Wednesday, and I still don’t understand everything.” Ryou turns up the pleading eyes just enough. “Oh, please, Professor Williams, I really want to do my best.”

The professor gets played like a goddamn violin.

“Well, if it’s really that dire. Let me sit down and look at what the assignment is asking for.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

That night, they dream.

The dream world can be really interesting because sometimes, Ryou remembers that Bakura is a person, not just his own inner voice.

“Today was really scary,” Ryou is telling him, “but I think it ended up okay in the end.” The two of them are floating down the dream-river in a bright yellow inner tube, one of those ones the water parks have with two holes for two people. The modern swim shorts feel really weird and slippery against his legs. Ryou is leaning on the middle section, so that their faces are close together. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“What’s this team business? I barely did anything at all.”

“You did the thing with the lights!” Ryou says, poking him once in the arm.

“Only the last one!” Bakura insists. “The rest were just bad lighting. I could’ve sneezed at that last light and it still woulda gone out. You were the one who did all the cool ghost voice stuff.”

“Maybe,” Ryou replies, just a bit cheeky.

“No, really,” Bakura continues. “I didn’t think you had it in you. Maybe you’re not such a pushover, after all.”

“And maybe you can remember there’s ways to win without anybody getting hurt,” Ryou says.

Bakura looks away.

“If anybody tries to hurt us, I’m going to defend myself.”

“Then I’ll just have to keep getting us out of trouble before you have to make that decision.”

Bakura sighs. He knows that this debate isn’t over by a long shot, but he doesn’t want to argue with Ryou about it tonight. He’ll put it on hold for now because he knows he’s going to win later.

“Okay, deal.” Besides, he had too much fun today.

They drift down the river for another little while.

“Hey, Ghost,” Ryou says quietly.

“Hm?”

“Why are you here? What do you want?” Bakura looks past Ryou to the western bank of the river, where a mother and her daughter are sitting and picnicking. Ryou follows his gaze. No matter how far down the river the inner tube drifts, the mother and her daughter are always right there; they wave at both Ryou and Bakura. Ryou smiles and waves back for a few moments, and then he lets his hand and face drop back down. “Do you not have a family? Do you want my family to be your family, too?”

“I have a family,” Bakura says. “But they’re trapped.” He reaches out to touch the Ring around Ryou’s neck. “And I’m the only one who can set them free.” He doesn’t know how to explain this because he’s ten years old now, too. He doesn’t have the words yet.

“Can I help?”

“I don’t know...” Bakura starts to pull his hand away, but Ryou holds it there, against the Ring against his chest.

“You picked me for a reason, right? So, I get a say, too.” It just felt right, was all. It wouldn’t have worked if it wasn’t meant to be.

“...There’s things we have to find,” Bakura says.

“What are they?”

“Even if I tell you, you’ll just forget when you wake up. Your heart can hold me, but your mind is still too young; it’s not strong enough to remember, yet.”

“Tell me anyway,” Ryou says, “and then when I’m stronger, I’ll remember.”

“I might get into a lot of trouble if you end up that strong.” Maybe even stronger than Bakura.

“Then we’ll just get out of the trouble together.”

Bakura finds himself laughing.

“Sure. That sounds like fun.”

“Are you going to tell me or not?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.”

“Yes!”

“Okay, well, first of all, there’s six other parts to the set...”