One Time Deal - 2

A truce had been arranged.

It was time to play.

Bakura now sat on a reclining chair in an apartment that was simple enough. Nearby on a couch, his new, shall we say, /acquaintance/, the owner of said apartment, was looking very relaxed, almost annoyingly so. On the way there, the albino man, or Gilbert, had slung his arm over the spirit's shoulder. Much to his distaste, the hold was surprisingly strong, and he would not have been able to get out of it without making a scene. Despite the situation, his escort of sorts had been irritatingly pleasant the whole way there, trying to make small talk about things like the weather. They had been sitting in that blasted apartment for several minutes now, and Bakura's patience was running thin.

"So," Gilbert began, his voice containing a casual hint of egotism that made Bakura want to strangle the man. "I do hope Ryou is alright in there. I know a guy who'd wet his pants in excitement at the chance to exorcise a malevolent spirit."

Of course.

Bakura couldn't really blame the man, who had put two and two together that the boy he met was being possessed, for being concerned about his little light, seeing as he knew nothing about the spirit. A year or so ago he had been beyond awful to the kid. He chose to take offense at what was said anyway just because he could.

"Of course he is," the spirit of the ring answered with a scoff. "In fact, he's been listening in on everything since I took over, so keep you ghost hunter wannabes out of my way."

You don't need to be so harsh. Ryou's voice echoed through their link. The boy had, in fact, been paying close attention since being forced into his soul room. He was rather pleased that Gilbert didn't seem to have ill intentions, his concern for Ryou was proof enough.

"Easy, easy," the Germanic man said, raising his hands up defensively. "The kid's okay so we're cool. Though, I do believe a proper introduction is in order, seeing as we don't know each other's full identities. I'll go first. My human name is Gilbert Beilschmidt, and I'm the immortal representation of a nation- the nation being the Kingdom of Prussia. The one question you aren't allowed to ask me is how I'm still around. Your turn."

Raising a brow, Bakura spoke up through his mind link to Ryou. /I have never heard of such a Kingdom. Explain, hikari./

I believe I've heard of it, Ryou mused. In history class. Yes. Prussia was a Germanic county that won a few wars against Austria and unified Germany. I don't believe that there is any location still called Prussia, so I think that's what Gilbert meant when he said not to ask him how he's around. Though, I never thought a land mass could be a person to being with.

"Interesting," Bakura spoke out loud. "I suppose I should introduce myself now. As you have worked out, I am a spirit capable of possessing my host, Ryou Bakura. You may call me Bakura, I am the immortal spirit of the millennium ring, a king of thieves from ancient Egypt. The one question you're not allowed to ask me is why my name is the surname of my host."

The albino man's eyebrows peaked with interest. He looked as though he wanted to comment, but was cut off as Bakura began to speak again.

"My host is rather curious as to how a someone could possibly claim to be some hunk of land, and I am curious as to the validity of your claim."

"Fair enough," Gilbert responded. "There's no real way for me to prove it. You'll have to have a little faith in me. Every nation in the world has a representative that looks just as human as everyone else. England, Japan, America, they all have personifications. We don't really know why we're around; most theories hit the fan when a war fort decided to personify itself. The most proof of being a nation I can show you is about a thousand years worth of scars."

There was a short pause.

"I'm going to get a beer. You look older than sixteen, want one?" Bakura raised a brow at the what was being asked before nodding. His light may not always approve, but he liked a good beer. As he nodded, Gilbert stood up. "Awesome. When I get back, you can show me that millennium ring of yours."

He left the room, leaving Bakura and Ryou to talk through their mind link. They didn't really have much to say, seeing as this whole ordeal was just getting boring and wordy.

Gilbert apparently felt the same way, since when he came back in and tossed Bakura a beer, he made a suggestion, his face grinning. "Let's change things up a bit. All this talk is getting boring, so let's spice it up. We'll play 20 questions. Think of some interesting questions, alright?"

"I could go for that." Bakura replied, nonchalant. "You wanted to see the millennium ring, right? That'll be your first question."

Pulling out the pendant from under his shirt, the spirit spoke again.

"This is the millennium ring, the ancient Egyptian artifact the contains my very soul."

Gilbert nodded. He had a stupid look on his face, as an idea seemed to cross the man's mind. "Your turn, mighty spirit."

"Ever kill anyone?" Bakura asked, for lack of better idea. He could faintly hear Ryou sputter something over their link, which was rather satisfying.

"Just about every nation who's gone to war has, so yes." Despite the nature of the question, the man still had that obnoxious grin on his face, and it seemed to get more sly by the second. "And now it's my turn. Ever cross dress?"

"What? No! Why would you even ask that?" Bakura was appalled at the very idea of cross dressing.

"I was lightening the mood," Gilbert said with a shrug and a smirk. "Besides, you said you were a thief. Are you telling me you never had to disguise yourself as a woman?"

Bakura's eyes widened before narrowing. This guy was good. "There was one time, and no one ever found out."

"I don't exactly have anyone to tell, so I think you're in the clear."

They continued like that for a while, drinking and asking each other any odd question that came to mind. Each had accepted the other's explanation with reserved skepticism, but decided to let it go as both parties had witnessed their share of oddities. However there was a degree of censoring that went into the answers. Bakura never mentioned anything to do with shadows or revenge. While he did not know what the other man kept out of his answers, he could tell that there was something being omitted.

All chatter abruptly stopped as a ringtone echoed throughout the room. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, Bakura saw that it was his host's father and allowed Ryou to take over to answer the man.

"Hello, Father... I've been sight-seeing... Yes, father... No, I'll be fine... Okay, I'll be there soon... Goodbye father."

As Ryou turned to the man across from him, who had watched his half of the exchange with mild interest, he flushed a bit, trying to smile but looking nervous.

"I apologize for that. I have to go see my father back at the hotel now. Thank you for your hospitality." As he rattled off his formalities, Ryou heard a grumbling in the back of his head that was likely a complaint about him being too polite.

The man named Gilbert merely waved a hand. "It's fine. Do you know how to find your way from here? I can give you directions if you need them."

Ryou thanked the man, but said that he would be able to find the hotel alright. As he left the apartment he heard a yell of "Stay safe, kid!" after him.

Soon, Ryou would forget that the man he had met was a nation. He wouldn't forget meeting him altogether, though. No, he'd remember someone who knew his darkest secret. Years later, long after the Thief King and the Pharaoh had left this plane of existence, Ryou would see the man again, but only briefly.

Years later, as he walked down a busy city street in Domino, he would see a rather average looking man who looked far too wise for the soft features of his face accompanied by a familiar, white-haired man. Their eyes would meet briefly . Nothing more, nothing less.

While Ryou himself will have aged into an adult able to be as content with life as could be expected, the man so familiar was just that as he looked exactly the same as that day so many years ago. After thinking of this for some time, he would remember the important details that had slipped away from him. He would smile to himself as he remembered his younger days, the thief, the nation, and how he had been far too tipsy around his father the night of that encounter.

Smartly, he would keep this nostalgia to himself. Perhaps he might write about it briefly, but nothing more. He would forget again, occasionally being reminded only to forget it all yet again.

The event had not had any huge impact on him. It had not changed his life or altered his views on the world around him.

After all, it had been nothing but a one time deal.