Birth of a King

Summary: "You destroyed my village and took me away from my family! I can never be whole again, and for that, I will never forgive you." His fate sealed from the start, his life was nothing more than an endless sea of rage and revenge... or was it?

Rated: T

Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Paradocs: Yes, yes, I finally started writing this again. My muse died a while back, somewhere around the time I lost my original manuscript. And not working on this for a while meant that what I had written was deleted.
So, bleh. I wrote this up instead. The fun part's coming up soon, I swear! In the mean time, well, hope that I get enough muse to finish this before the end of next month!

Disclaimer: I still don't own Bakura, or anything vaguely resembling this series. But someday... Someday.

Visions

"Bakura?"

The pale-haired boy looked around him, searching for where the voice came from. It had been familiar, something the teen had heard before, but not recently. Hesitantly, he called out to the darkness that surrounded him.

"Who's there?"

A chuckle from the shadows, a sound that echoed a thousand times around Bakura. Or were a thousand voices laughing?

"You've forgotten me? Us?"

The fifteen-year old blinked. 'Us'? He frowned, suddenly angry.

"Look, if this is about that turf fight, me'n'Malik won, Jarha. You and your gang got the upper part of the river, so be happy with tha--"

"We are not some childish 'gang' you warred with, Bakura." The first voice said.

"We are greater than that. Were greater than that." A second voice added, a sound that was clearly female. The young thief shook his head, feeling as if his head were filled with flour and cloth.

"You don't remember?" A much younger, higher-pitched voice said, sounding hurt. "But, brother--"

Grey-blue eyes widened at that word. "Amenitre?" Bakura whispered, almost afraid to speak too loudly for fear of losing his sister again. The young voice giggled, clearly pleased by his recognition.

"I knew you'd remember me!"

"You sound... older," Bakura said, stepping closer to the place in the darkness where his sister's voice sounded loudest. "You grew up, sis."

"As did you," said the second voice, now recognized by the adolescent as his mother. "Look at you now, my big, strong boy, all grown up." One of the shadows twined itself around his shoulders, and Bakura felt it squeeze him in an imitation of a mother's embrace. "You've remembered to say all your prayers, haven't you? The gods have blessed you, keeping you safe for so long--"

"You forgot us." Nebibi, the first voice said flatly, cutting off his wife's words. "You watched us die, and then you left us to pursue your own life."

"N-no!" Bakura stuttered indignantly, watching the shadows crowd almost oppresively close to him. "I never--"

"Six years, Bakura. Six years we've waited, watched as you grew up and forgot about us." Now it was as if the voice of his father came from every direction, from all of the shadows, Amenitre and Amisi's voices swallowed into the mass of sound.

"I never forgot!" He shouted, hands curling into fists by his sides. "I just--"

"You left us here, in the darkness," the black mass hissed. "You left us and went on to live your own life." Bakura saw the area around him shrink as the voices hemmed him in, leaving him barely enough room to stand. "You abandoned Kul Elna and forgot everything you knew. Everything we taught you."

"No!" Bakura cried, scrambling to get away from the oppressive darkness that surrounded him. "I didn't-- I never--"

"You made a pact with a petty pickpocket--" Nebibi spat the last word, as though it carried a bad taste. "And for what? Hm?"

"He... he helped me--"

"'Helped'?" The shadows laughed, a cruel, harsh sound that sent shivers across Bakura's skin. "You, who bragged that he was the best thief in Kul Elna, who said he needed no help from anyone, reaching out for help from a street-brat?" Black tendrils danced across the boy's arms, smoke-like in appearance but as solid as if they'd been flesh-and-blood. "Give it up, Bakura. You forgot everything about Kul Elna; admit it."

The young thief shook his head vigourously from side to side. "I didn't!" He shouted, trying to convince the spirits around him. "I don't need anyone's help; I never did!"

"Then what is your reason for the alliance you hold with Malik, if not assistance?" His father's voice sounded amused, if curious, as though it were truly dying to hear Bakura's reason.

And what was that reason, if not for the other boy's help? Bakura thought, trying to find the answer himself.

"W-well," the teen started, feeling strangely timid as he spoke with the ghosts of his village. "I needed shelter in Thebes. He gave me that--"

"And can you not get that yourself, now that you are older?" This time, it was Amisi who spoke, her voice carrying a trace of motherly concern. "You've been in the city for a few years now, after all. Surely you could find a place for yourself?"

Nebibi snorted in derision. "A real thief doesn't live in the city like some pampered merchant," he said coldly. "Nor does he steal trifles from marketplaces, to be used for his personal adornment, like a noblewoman." One smokey arm reached out to pull at the golden bands that crawled up his slim tan arms. "My son, turned into a well-bred lady in just a few short years." His tone was mocking, and the darkness laughed with him as Bakura's fury grew with each cruel note.

"What should I do, then, if I'm to be a proper thief?" The boy asked, his tone icy as he fought to keep himself from losing his temper. "Break a pact I made with the gods? Or should I kill myself and join you in the Afterlife?"

The laughter stopped suddenly, cut short by his words. There was silence for a moment, then:

"He never swore a true pact, that alleged 'partner' of yours," his father sounded less cruel, more logical, like he had when he'd been alive. "Any vows you swore with him are annulled, Bakura. The gods honor those who avenge true wrongs than those who play at making promises."

"You need to rid yourself of Malik, Bakura," Amenitre's voice said quietly, as serious as their father. "A robber like him doesn't even deserve to live, if he's keeping you from the vengeance that is yours by rights, brother."

Bakura's eyes went wide with horror at the very idea. "N-no, I can't!" He said, slumping onto the ground and curling into a tiny ball as he sat there. "He... He doesn't even know about you. About us," he corrected quickly, as he felt the blackness around him flare with anger.

A few of the tendrils coiled themselves around his shoulders, hugging him tight. "Oh, my sweet, sweet child," Amisi said quietly. "Alu, don't you see? How can you call him your partner if he doesn't even know you? Do you trust him enough to tell him, alu?" Bakura looked around himself, then back down at the ground in defeat. Amisi continued. "If he found out, he might kill you, or tell soldiers, who would kill you, like they killed us." The dead woman's voice sounded upset at the thought. Nebibi continued for her.

"If you cannot trust your partner, what must you do, Bakura? Tell me." The ghost ordered. Bakura looked up at him, remembering the lessons from his childhood.

"You must kill them, baba," the boy said quietly. "If they were to live, they might betray you."

The black shadows nodded approvingly, the tendrils around his shoulders fading away to rejoin the dark mass of ghosts. "So what must you do, Bakura?" They asked in a single voice as the only living person among them got to his feet again. He faced them, his brown face radiating the same quiet power as it had when he'd been a child of nine.

"I must kill him," Bakura replied, his voice emotionless. "Before he can betray me."

"And then?" The voice pushed closer to him, sounding eager to hear his answer to this latest question.

"Revenge." The fifteen-year-old boy said simply. "I get revenge on your killers for your deaths. For our village."

The shadows seemed to smile, or would have, had they had mouths. "And who killed us, Bakura? Do you know?" The boy's cool expression faltered as he struggled to find an answer. The ghosts laughed as one. "Never mind. When you have killed Malik, come home. We will tell you then." The darkness faded away, leaving Bakura alone to face the murky question of how to carry out his gristly task.

When Bakura awoke, he knew one thing was clear: Malik had to die, if he was to see his family again.