The Series of Incidents

Life is just a series of incidents, and Bakura Ryou is no different from anyone else.

Ryou was thrown against the wall, his head snapping back forcefully, the collision hard. He hung his head, shaking, feeling blood drip down the front of his shirt, from his nose. He never thought he deserved these beatings, but they happened time and time again. High school shouldn't have been like this. He shouldn't have had to hide away to make sure that no one could catch him leaving the school. Even the girls, who he thought would be nice to him, pointed and laughed and drew attention to his existence, the attention of unsavory characters like the one that stood before him now.

Ryou shook harder as the other boy approached slowly, mocking him. "Why the long face, Ryou-chan? A pretty girl like you should be happy that a real man is paying her attention." Ryou whimpered and hung his head lower, and the other snarled, bringing his foot down onto Ryou's crotch, making the boy scream. "Grow some fucking balls, you fag! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

The albino curled up into himself, sagging to the side, and his Sennen ring slipped out of his battered shirt. "What's that?" The bully whispered in awe, staring at the object that seemed to be of solid gold.

Ryou quickly covered it with his hands, hiding the glinting item from view. "Nothing! It's...It's costume jewelry! Plastic!"

His hands were shoved away and the ring grabbed roughly. "I don't think so, Ryou-chan. Give it to me."

Ryou vaguely thought of calling for his Yami no Bakura, but quickly dismissed the thought. The spirit wouldn't do a thing. He might have even added to the mocking words thrown his way.

Pale hands scrambled to grab the ring back, but it's too late. The male had a tight grip, and the leather cord bit into skin harshly.

"No no no no no no no no nonono!" Ryou cried, there was a snap, blinding pain, then a bit of nothing.

Emerald eyes opened, lashes fluttering slightly blurring the picture in front of him. Someone was kneeling next to him, stroking his hair back from his face.

"Why didn't you call for me, yandoshi*?" Yami no Bakura's voice asked, betraying no emotion. "I almost lost you, yandoshi. Where would you be without me?"

Ryou let out a sob, rolling to his side to spit blood onto the pavement. "Why...why did you come to help me?"

"You're my host, why would I let something so precious as my host be lost to me forever?" Yami no Bakura said from his squatted position, very real, opaque fingers tangled in Ryou's hair, tugging at the tangled strands gently, forcing Ryou's face up to the light. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. "Why didn't you call for me? I could have protected you, yandoshi. This," he gestured to a bloody lump next to him that Ryou recognized as his assailant, "Could have been avoided."

Tears escaped Ryou's eyes at the sight of the unmoving boy. "Is... Is he... Is he dead?" Ryou choked out, his body trembling ever so slightly.

Yami no Bakura shook his head, "No, he's not. He's not, yandoshi, though I could make it so if you wished?"

"N-No!" Ryou shouted weakly. "I... I just want to go home, Yami-sama. Please just bring me home?"

The spirit nodded and disappeared, as Ryou was pushed gently into his own mind, into his soul room. The pain vanished near instantly, only a small ache left in it's wake. Bakura Ryou sighed in relief and sat down against a wall, wrapping his arms around his knees protectively to reflect upon his Yami, the Yami no Bakura.

Ryou was young when the Ring was introduced into his life, along with the spirit that resided in it's depths. Despite what everyone thought, his Yami never lifted a finger against him. He just never lifted a finger for him, either. There was never even the vaguest interest on Yami no Bakura's part. Little Ryou tried, he really, truly did. He wanted his Yami to love him, to protect him, like a friend, like the friends that other children in his school had... He just wanted a friend. But, as Little Ryou grew, Yami no Bakura began to show bits and pieces of interest, but these shows were few and far between. The Yami no Bakura hid away from his light, as was his nature. He lurked just beneath the surface, quiet but there.

Always there...

Three days later, Ryou still felt the ache between his shoulders, across his chest, down the bridge of his nose. Three days later, Ryou had yet to catch glimpse of his ever evasive Yami. That afternoon, after the attack, Ryou had woken up on his bed, tucked in neatly, with a note on his little bedside table, in his Yami's uneven, shaky hand writing;

ryou

i bought you something for the pain please take it

spirit of the ring

The word 'bought' was underlined quite a few times, and when Ryou found the bottle of pills and numbing crème on his desk, the receipt was tucked neatly underneath them. It made Ryou smile.

But, three days later, and he still hadn't been able to thank his Yami. He was probably annoyed with his light, annoyed at the boy for being weak and unable to do anything right. Unable to even reach for a can of tomato sauce without pain racing down his back and into his shoulder blades. Ryou stood on his tiptoes, stretching his arm high above his head and onto the shelf, giving a pained whimper just as his fingertips touched his much needed can of tomatoes. The boy stiffened as another hand joined his, easily grabbing the tomato sauce and setting it onto the counter. Ryou slowly turned to meet the shining red eyes of his Yami, his own, much softer eyes becoming wide at the small smile that the Yami was giving him, and the fact that he was no less than five inches away.

The Yami no Bakura's smile widened at the speechless boy, and poked his little host's forehead lightly, chuckling, "You're welcome," before turning and walking off.

After that, the incident that Ryou dubbed the Tomato Incident, Bakura took to sitting at the table with Ryou as the boy ate. He would thread his fingers together and watch quietly, eyes following every movement that Ryou made, which made dinner a quiet, awkward affair. Ryou had no idea what to talk to his Yami about, what to do at all, even.

A week after the Tomato Incident, during dinner, Yami no Bakura reached over to his light's plate and grabbed a piece of lettuce and brought it to his lips. Ryou stared in shock, eyes wide. Never, ever had Bakura eaten anything in front of him, not in all the years that Ryou had known the spirit.

After the Lettuce Incident, Ryou set the table for two, and his Yami dutifully ate the food that Ryou made, eyes still never leaving his Light. Eventually, it became the norm, these quiet, awkward dinners, and Ryou barely thought twice when he saw his Yami come into the kitchen for dinner when he called.

It just became part of Ryou's day, and the boy began to look forward to seeing his Yami each night at five thirty P.M.

Six months after the the Lettuce Incident, Ryou set the table for two, and finished up the roast chicken he had made for dinner, as was routine. The boy finished setting the table and called for his Yami, to tell him that dinner was done. Two minutes later, the spirit of the Ring had yet to emerge from the living room, where Ryou had saw him just a half hour ago.

Ryou walked into the living room, looking around. His Yami wasn't there. "Yami?" The boy called, confused. What had happened to their routine? Was something wrong with his Yami? "Yami-sama?"

Ryou walked up the stairs, towards his bedroom, creeping slowly. His Yami rarely went into Ryou's room, he said it was much too clean, too tidy, and made him want to break things, but the door was cracked open, something else out of the norm.

Ryou was becoming nervous.

This time, he didn't call out for his Yami, but quietly peaked into his room, glancing around, and there was his Yami, laying on his bed, shoes kicked off and shirt laying next to them on the usually spotless floor, face buried in one of Ryou's many pillows.

Ryou approached as one would approach a wild animal, slowly, cautiously, hand outstretched, debating whether or not it would be a good idea to touch the Yami's shoulder. Yami no Bakura's shoes decided for him, catching underfoot, causing the less than graceful teen to pitch forward, landing painfully on the side of the bed, half on the bed, half on the floor, partially on top of his Yami. Ryou let out a sound of distress, before sinking fully to the floor.

Red eyes didn't even crack open to look at him. His Yami was breathing deeply, quietly, very much asleep. Ryou let out a relieved sigh, resting his head against the side of the bed. His Yami would have been so pissed if Ryou had woken him up by landing on top of him.

The boy jumped a foot into the air as he felt a hand in his hair, threading through the strands affectionately. "Is dinner done, yandoshi?" The Yami asked with a voice heavy with sleep. "I'll be up in a moment."

Ryou stared up at his darker half, fighting down a blush. Yami no Bakura had yet to remove his hand from Ryou's hair, long fingers not moving other than to stroke Ryou's scalp. His Yami never touched him like this, lingeringly, soft...loving... No one had ever touched him like this... The spell was broken as Ryou's Yami sat up, slowly sliding his hand down the back of Ryou's head, and leaned forward to grab his shirt from the floor.

Ryou pointedly did not look at his Yami's chest.

Three months after the Bed Incident, Ryou was sleep deprived. May had rolled around, and with it came finals, University Applications, the dreaded Prom, and summer looming just out of reach. The usually calm, collected teen was, admittedly, frazzled. He knew he was not really ready to make such a big decision as to what the hell he wanted to do for the rest of his life, and had no idea if he even wanted to go to university. His father would be back from Egypt for some time towards the end of May, and he had no clue how to break the news to his Yami, who hadn't disappeared back into his Ring for months. He had no clue how he would explain the presence of a very attractive version of himself hanging around the house to his father, even if, as time went on and his Yami kept away from the ring, their appearances became less and less alike. The man became tanned from his days outside, and cut his wild white hair, so it just barely brushed the spirit's shoulders, but kept it long enough to tie back when he did something dangerous, like jump off the roof into the tree in the back yard. He was like a child that got into the coffee, always exercising, always moving the furniture around, always cleaning while Ryou was at school, and built up a body that Ryou couldn't even dream of having.

So, to put it lightly, Ryou was stressed. He was tired. He did not want to be standing at the counter chopping up steak bits for stew. He wanted to go to bed.

The boy hung his head tiredly, barely paying attention to the knife in his hands, a mistake that he would later recognize, but at the moment, he didn't think twice about it, not until the blade bit viciously into his finger and he gave a startled cry, dropping the knife with a clatter.

Immediately a tanned hand wrapped around his wrist and he was dragged around to face his Yami. Ryou blinked. He forgot how fast the Tomb Robber was at times, able to dart into the kitchen from his nest of books and shiny objects in the living room in seconds. Blood ran down his hand and dripped lazily onto the floor, and the spirit stared for a moment before tugging the boy over to the sink, fumbling with the knobs awkwardly before turning on the cold water and shoving Ryou's hand under the stream.

"Stay," he ordered as he bent down and rummaged under the sink for the first aid kit, one of many that Ryou kept around the house for happenings just like this one. The Yami shut off the water and dried Ryou's hand carefully, patting away the blood that seeped out of the cut, before gently applying the bandage. Ryou stared at his finger dumbly, confused. His Yami turned away, picked up the knife from the counter, and began to carefully resume what Ryou had been doing.

"Y-Yami-sama?"

"Yandoshi?"

"I can do that..."

Yami no Bakura shook his head, concentrating on what his hands were doing, cutting up the beef in small, even strips, being as neat as possible. Ryou stood next to his Yami, staring shamelessly at the skilled hands before being nudged away.

"What else do we need, yandoshi?"

Ryou retreated over to the refrigerator, grabbing the needed veggies, then the ingredients for the broth. He set everything that needed to be chopped next to the man, then set a pot onto the stove to begin the strew.

The silence was not awkward, and after dinner was finished, Ryou thought that it tasted better than anything else he could have made alone.

And so, another routine was created. Yami no Bakura would wait patiently for his host to finish homework and studying, then the two would head into the kitchen to quietly make dinner together.

A few days after the Finger Incident, though, the quiet routine was broken by Yami no Bakura.

"Your father is coming home in a few weeks, Yandoshi," He said, not a question, just a simple observation.

"Yes, he is," Ryou responded, for the first time in months, scared of his Yami, of his anger.

"What shall happen when he does?"

"What do you mean?"

The Yami looked at Ryou, lips pulled into a frown. "Do you want me to return to the Ring?"

Ryou stared, something he found himself doing a lot, then shook his head. "N-no, Yami-sama. Not if you don't want to... I'm sure we could make up a story to tell my father."

Yami no Bakura winced, nodding. "You will have to stop calling me that, Yandoshi."

Ryou nodded in return. "I know."

After their brief conversation over chopped vegetables, Yami and Hikari began to speak to each other, not seeking the other out for conversation, but not avoiding the other, either. Ryou was happy for the companionship, to say the least. He had Yuugi-Tachi at school, but he never felt like he truly belonged. Everyone had paired off and that left no room for a single, shy little Ryou in the group. Yuugi had his own Yami, had eyes only for his Yami, Atemu, Jou had his crush on the CEO of Kaiba Corp that would, without a doubt, turn into a full fledged relationship before graduation, judging by the looks said CEO continued to throw Jou's way when he thought that no one was looking. Honda fell hard and fast for a freshman girl that he thought was the most amazing thing since the can opener, Anzu had eyes for a young teacher, but the two were not going to start a relationship until Anzu graduated, as Anzu was kind but overly moral. Even Mai had found a lover with a motorcycle, and Marik was seeing someone, though he kept it a secret.

To be honest, Ryou was lonely. He was horrifically lonely, but his growing relationship with his Yami comforted him. It comforted him greatly, those brief conversations in which Ryou took to calling his Yami 'Bakura-kun', in which he found out that his Yami's favorite food was the steak and mashed potato meal Ryou made occasionally, and that his Yami also liked the pound cake that Ryou loved making. He found out his Yami's favorite color, green, like his light's eyes, and his favorite book, Going Postal by Terry Pratchett, though the boy could not figure out why. His Yami enjoyed watching cooking shows, and would write down the recipes in his improving, but still shaky handwriting, to give to his light to try out. He was thinking about accepting the job offer from Marik's sister at the museum. He didn't really like playing Duel Monsters. His hair attacked him in his sleep so he decided to cut it.

So many little things, Ryou found out about his dear Yami, and cherished them. It felt like he, for once in his life, finally had a friend, and so, when his father called a week before he was to return home, Ryou told him of a friend who was staying at the house with him after a fire in his apartment building, and not to worry, Ryou had met him at school last year, before he graduated, and he was thinking about taking a job at a museum and he would like him, his friend was polite and very helpful. Mr. Bakura was confused by the fact that his son's friend had his surname as a first name, but brushed it off. Bakura was, in fact, a common name, so it wasn't too weird that Bakura's parents had chosen such a name, right?

Right.

Bakura Senior did not know what to expect when he walked into his home, after nearly a year of being away, but it was certainly not what greeted him. In his living room sat a white haired teen that was most definitely not his son, a pair of headphones covering his ears as he shifted through papers and photographs, a laptop on the floor next to him as he hummed along to what Mr. Bakura recognized as Beethoven's 9th Symphony in D minor, Ode to Joy. The man heard something in the kitchen and, ignoring the man in his parlor for now, went to investigate. The sight in the kitchen was something he expected, and came to enjoy seeing when he came home. His precious son was bustling around the kitchen, flour on his hands and shirt, peering into the electric mixer while bouncing on his toes excitedly.

"Ryou," Mr. Bakura spoke, smiling as his son whipped around with a happy look on his face. The boy ran up to his father and pounced, wrapping his arms around him.

"Papa! Welcome home!"

The man chuckled and detached his son, pointing over to the mixer that was still on. "You better pay attention to whatever you're making over there, my son."

Ryou grinned and returned to his baking, a shining smile on his face. "I'm making pound cake, and there are Cornish Hens in the oven, they're stuffed and everything, and I'm steaming some veggies, because Bakura-kun says that it's healthier then boiling them, and I made a whipped crème and raspberry mix to put over the pound cake for desert. I got top scores on all of my exams and I've applied to the museum for intern work for the summer while I decide on University, and since Bakura-kun was sought after to work there, he's asking for a PA, and is going to recommend me. I decided to not go to Prom since I don't have anyone to go with, but it's okay, Bakura-kun gave me some books by Terry Pratchett to read, and we're going to watch the HogFather and the Color of Magic after I'm done with the books! How was your flight? Did anything exciting happen in Egypt? Are you seeing anyone yet? How is the Professor? Did you tell him I said Hi?" Ryou babbled on, barely pausing to take a breath. His father laughed, putting a hand on Ryou's shoulder affectionately.

"The flight was okay, it went as well as one would expect, things are same old in Egypt, the Professor is doing well, and yes, I told him you said Hello," Mr. Bakura told his son, purposely avoiding the more personal of the questions. Ryou didn't seem to notice. "Now, who exactly is this Yami Bakura person?"

Ryou folded his whipped egg whites into the batter slowly. "He's a friend I met through Mouto Yuugi's cousin, Yami Atemu. He started to attend Domino High last year around October last year and graduated last May. He's about a year and a half older than I am, and he does translation work for Miss Ishtar at the Museum right now. He lost his apartment in a fire about three months ago, when the apartment underneath his caught fire, so I offered him a place to stay for a while," Ryou recited. "He's helped me a lot with studying for exams, and keeping the house, since he works from home and only goes in every few days to give Miss Ishtar updates." Mr. Bakura nodded slowly. In his opinion, his son spoke a bit too warmly about this friend for the two to just be friends, but he brushed it off. His son would open up to him in his own time. "Could you go rouse Bakura-kun from his work induced stupor for me? Dinner is done."

Mr. Bakura patted his son's shoulder and went to do as asked. The man in the living room had barely moved, holding up sheets of paper in one hand, the other typing slowly and occasionally reaching for the cup of tea on the table. Mr. Bakura cleared his throat softly and the man turned to look at him slowly, before putting down his work and unfolding himself gracefully to stand. He bowed and offered a hand to the older Bakura.

"You must be Ryou's father, it's a pleasure to meet you, sir," the man said in a deep, almost gravely voice. He was about an inch or so taller than Mr. Bakura, with wild hair that, even if at first glance looked pure white, was a light gray, and near red eyes. His skin was a deep tan, and had strong features, exotic, Egyptian almost.

Mr. Bakura took the offered hand and felt the strength in those long pianist fingers. "It's nice to meet you as well, Yami-San. Ryou says that dinner is finished."

Bakura nodded and bent to gather up his cup, then followed Mr. Bakura into the kitchen. Ryou had the table set, and was carefully setting the pound cake in the over as the two tall males entered. The conversation was carried by Ryou, the usually quiet teen, who was ecstatic. He had his father back!

As the stream of words from Ryou slowed, Bakura Senior spoke up, looking at his son's Yami in interest. "So, I hear you do translation work for the museum?"

The Yami nodded, a calculating look on his face. "I do."

"Where did you study, may I ask?"

"I studied...Privately, in Egypt, before I came here to study with my...cousin," the Yami said, eyes darting nervously to Ryou, who gave him a comforting smile.

"I'm doing some translation research myself. We uncovered a fully preserved scroll in the tomb we've been excavating, it was sealed within the deepest chambers of the tomb. I do believe I have a printout of it in my wallet," the elder Bakura said, reaching into his pocket and flipping through his wallet before fishing out a crumpled piece of paper, which he handed to Bakura. "We believe this might be a very important document of the time."

Bakura unfolded the paper and reached for his water, eyes scanning the photograph before snorting, inhaling water and coughing, covering his face with his hand. Ryou glanced at the man, worried, as he began to chuckle, then all out laugh. The two other males at the table stared as the laughter continued, though for very different reasons. Ryou felt a blush coming on, at the sound of his Yami's deep, rich laughter. He had never heard something so uniquely arousing in his entire life. Bakura Senior, on the other hand, was just wondering what the hell was so funny.

Bakura's laughter died slightly, as he looked at Ryou's father, face as serious as possible.

"This, sir," he waved the paper around. "Is a recipe. For soup. It seems that your Pharaoh was a very picky eater, and this particular soup was his favorite thing to eat. It was locked away for his servants in the next life!"

Mr. Bakura stood, walking over to Bakura's side to look at the paper questioningly. "Now where do you see that?!"

Bakura laid the paper down onto the table and fished a stub of a pencil from out of his pocket. "Now, if you look at this symbol here..."

Ryou smiled and stood, gathering up plates, depositing them into the sink and going to turn off the oven. He had a feeling that his two most important people would be getting along just fine.

Ryou decided to call this particular Incident the 'Most Embarrassing Conversation In His Life Incident', as his father looked at him expectantly, and he knew that Bakura was listening from the living room. He could just sense it. Ryou's face became warm, and he looked away.

"I... well, you see... Father...Bakura-kun. He and I... We... It's not... It's not like that."

"I see the way you look at him, Ryou..."

"That doesn't meant that he and I... He! Someone like him would never, ever... Ya know! With someone like, well, me!"

Mr. Bakura's eyebrow twitched upwards. "So you're saying you're not good enough for him? If anything, he's not good enough for you!"

"I didn't say that! He's....well... he's Bakura, Papa. People like Bakura don't like boys like me. People like Bakura don't like boys, Papa. I can't control that."

The elder Bakura leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You're a smart boy, Ryou, and I think Bakura appreciates those smarts, so use them."

Ryou stared at his hands as his father stood and walked away.

Mr. Bakura exited the kitchen, running a hand through his hair in frustration, turning towards the stairs to retreat into his bedroom.

"You know, sir," A voice said quietly, causing the man to jump and turn around to stare at Bakura, who was leaning against the wall with a book in his hands, a sad, cold smile on his lips. "Your son... Just... Sir. Your son is a shy young man. He is the most precious of all treasures that I crave. I am unaccustomed to the company of angels. In time. Give me time."

Mr. Bakura gave the shadowy eyed man a small, sad smile of his own, and nodded. Yes, he understood. Yes, he would give his boy time to find his heart. He was just an old man, wanting to see his precious son happy, and he felt, deep within his heart, that this man, this cold, calculating man, was key.

They seemed to be two halves of the same soul, almost.