Who Knew

Title: Who Knew
By: KuroSakura-chan/KuroSakura
Summary: Ryou has been murdered, and Domino City is paying for it. Now, Seto has to find a way to stop Bakura before either Yami kills the thief...or the thief kills Seto and Mokuba.
Genre: Angst, Tragedy, Crime,
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh
Couples: Seto/Bakura, Malik/Otogi, Marik/Ryou,
Warnings: Yaoi, 1st Person, Violence, Character Death,
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.
…
-Seto-
Bakura’s words make me feel cold. I should have expected this, to be honest, but it’s still horrifying to hear him say it. I guess this just proves that Bakura’s homicidal tendencies have gone nowhere; they just needed the right stimulus to bring them to the forefront again.
And I’m sure the Ring isn’t helping.
The worst part is that no one knows what to do. Malik, Otogi, they’re all useless. Marik could probably physically restrain Bakura, but the yami has been unconscious since the funeral. Good thinking, on Malik’s part, as two homicidal spirits are more than we can possibly deal with. Hell, the likelihood of the city surviving just Bakura is pretty slim, because though I can physically restrain Bakura as well, I can’t catch him, nor can I find him when he doesn’t wish to be found.
And though I’m loathe to admit it, I don’t want to stop him. At least, a part of me doesn’t. Because I know that I have no way of making this loss easier on him, and it’s painful to admit I can’t do anything. I am not saying I love him, but I do feel responsible for his happiness, and I have failed him spectacularly, though even I cannot see a way I could have saved Ryou, other than have assigned him a protection detail. Which, I’ll admit, Bakura and I had spoken about and decided against, so Ryou wouldn’t feel suffocated. Now, I realize it’s too late, but I still wish Bakura had ignored his worry for Ryou’s feeling of freedom and just asked me for the protection detail. Hell, he wouldn’t have even had to ask. If he had just not said no, I would have had a detail watching Ryou.
Never mind the fact that Marik is psychotic and likely to snap if he is, or thinks he is, being followed. Never mind that Ryou’s friends Malik and Otogi aren’t always attached to reality properly and drink, despite the fact that they are underage. None of that would have mattered to privately hired bodyguards. Police wouldn’t have had anything to do with the job.
“Dammit.” I hiss, unable to keep my anger inside. Not that there is anyone around to see my lapse. It’s been a week since the funeral, and the only time I’ve seen Bakura is when he turns up at night. Most of the time, I have to throw him in the shower because he’s covered in blood, and he doesn’t seem to care. After that, or sometimes during, if he’s particularly stubborn, we fuck. There is no softer way to describe it, because that is what it is. As it is, we’ve never been the “make love” types, so it’s always been sex. Now, it’s more animalistic than sex. It’s too harsh to be called anything but fucking. I’ve taken to working from my home office to avoid questions about the results of my encounters with Bakura. I still have deep scratches on my face from Bakura raking his nails over my cheek. Mokuba questioned the bandage the next day, and I’m certain that he doesn’t believe my claim that I don’t know what happened. It’s been difficult to keep him from seeing my cheek un-bandaged. But I can’t let him see it. If he did, he’d know it was from Bakura, and he would probably try to confront Bakura and that would not end well, with Bakura’s current state of mind. I don’t think he would intentionally harm Mokuba, but I would rather not risk it. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t given back as much as I’ve taken.
Although…I’m starting to wonder if I should stop humoring his violent tendencies. I have a feeling that Ryou would disapprove greatly of my handling of Bakura. He would say that Bakura needs comfort and a non-violent way of relieving his grief. The only problem with that is that I am not exactly the most capable person to provide the comfort and non-violent means of relieving grief that Bakura needs. Still…I’m tempted to try. I owe Ryou for taking good care of Mokuba emotionally where I could not. I’m fairly certain that Ryou would have been a social worker or something similar, if he’d lived.
“Fucking prick…” I mutter, saving the data I’ve been pretending to work on. Once I’m sure the data is saved, I close my laptop. It figures that I would choose to quit work early only after such a tragedy. Bakura would be pissed if he could think of anything other than killing.
I push myself up from my chair, having no idea as to what I am going to do now. Mokuba is with a few friends, against my better judgment, and won’t be home for several hours. He is, of course, also in the company of his own protection detail, all of whom I will personally slaughter if something happens to him. School hasn’t resumed since Ryou’s death, not that Bakura, Marik, or the others would care if it did. And without the others there to make it interesting for me, there is no reason for me to be there. I can easily pass the classes without actually being there.
I pace around the room for a few moments, having too much energy to sit back down. What would I normally do when bored…? Bakura. Bakura has usually been there to entertain me. What if he was not available…? Malik and Otogi. Yes, there’s an idea. I can visit Malik and Otogi for awhile. Even if they aren’t their usual crazy, just being around others for awhile will be…a relief, though I will never admit this to Mokuba or Bakura.
I pick up the phone on my desk, pressing the ‘2’ button. I’m connected directly to my driver, and in moments, he is readying the car to take me to Malik and Otogi’s apartment. I take my time grabbing my coat, finding no reason to rush, though I am still a bit…antsy. I never thought that word would apply to me, but at this moment, I have no other way to describe my inability to sit still. It still doesn’t take me any more than five minutes to get my coat, which entertains Malik and Otogi to imagine different ways for me to keep the bottom flaring up, and walk down the stairs. It is long enough for the car to be waiting for me, though. That’s pleasing. I’ve fired drivers for less than being late to pick me up. I’ve been trying not to fire as many people lately, though. Retraining takes more time than I have to waste. And if the new employees aren’t trained properly, they just end up fired that much quicker. It’s an unhappy cycle.
Slipping into the back of the car, I give Malik and Otogi’s name to the driver. He knows where I want to go, seeing as he drives for Bakura too, and Bakura visits the two of them often. The only others he visits are, or were, Marik and Ryou. Those two addresses must be as familiar as mine to the driver, considering the amount of times he’s had to take someone there.
The trip doesn’t take too long, even with the late afternoon traffic. Most of the time is spent just finding a place to park that is near the apartment. Apparently, the driver’s usual spot is not available. I leave the car, wasting no time in buzzing the apartment to let them know I am outside.
“What is it?” Malik snaps through the intercom. He has not been having a good day, apparently.
“Is Otogi any more agreeable than you?” I ask, though I know it sounds more like a demand to him.
“Kaiba? Why the hell didn’t you say it was you?” I hear the door unlock, and I walk inside, ignoring the elevator, as Otogi and Malik only live on the second floor. I take the stairs two at a time, and within moments, I am standing before their open door, wondering how the two aren’t deaf yet. Their music is pounding through the building, some American band, if the English is anything to go by, and Bakura tells me that it is always this way. I have to admit that every time I’ve visited, it has always been this loud, so my feeling is that I have to accept Bakura’s words as truth.
As soon as I step in the doorway, Otogi is rushing forward and pulling me into a hug. Considering how recent Ryou’s death is, I allow his lapse in judgment on the strict policy of no touching. Once his hug is complete, about three seconds long, he releases and leads me into the apartment, closing the door behind us. “Marik is not likely to join us today. Once we made it clear that Ryou wouldn’t want him to either kill himself or others, he shut himself in Bakura’s room.” Otogi explains, showing me to the kitchen where Malik is pacing like a caged cat. “Not, of course, that the room is actually Bakura’s. It’s the guest room, but he’s the one who usually passes out over here and utilizes it.” He wanders over to the stove where something is simmering. It smells pretty good, so I’m willing to assume that Otogi’s cooking lessons with Ryou paid off.
I sit down at the table, waiting for Malik to break out of his pacing tantrum and notice me. There is a vase of flowers on the table, and I reach forward to grab the card and read it.
Get well soon,
-Father
“What kind of sick joke is this?” I demand, throwing the card onto the table.
Malik snorts, shaking his head. “It’s not a joke. Ryou’s father sent him a get-well card. It’s fucking ridiculous, and the bastard had better hope that Bakura doesn’t find out about this. He’s already pissed that the fucker didn’t show for his own son’s funeral, so this would just push him to homicide.” He returns to his pacing, grumbling under his breath.
“I think he’s just in denial.” Otogi pipes up. “I mean, he’s already lost his wife and daughter in an accident, and now his son?” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be able to take it.”
“But this level of denial? I don’t believe it.” Malik responds.
I shake my head. “Sorry, Otogi, I know you want to believe that Ryou’s father cared, but think about it. Have you ever even met the man? Not even I have, and I’ve lived here longer. He’s too obsessed with his work to worry for Ryou.”
Otogi deflates, practically folding in on himself with his shoulders. “I know. It’s just…It would have destroyed Ryou to know his father didn’t really care.” Malik finally stops his pacing so he can move over to wrap his arms around Otogi. Otogi turns to meld himself to Malik, and I avert my eyes, not interested in watching their moment. They don’t often make it clear that they do feel pain the way normal, sane people do, but it’s obvious now. “So, Kaiba, have you seen Bakura? We haven’t even heard from him” Otogi asks, signaling that their moment is over. They’re still wrapped around each other, but that’s a pretty common occurrence for them.
“Yes. He comes back home at night.” I respond. The two look at each other before smirking back at me.
“So, you’ve finally accepted Bakura as part of your household?” Malik questions, a demented smirk, reminiscent of his yami’s, on his face.
I cock an eyebrow at his question. “What do you mean, ‘finally’?”
“Well, you seemed pretty hesitant as to allowing him to call your place home, at first.” Otogi comments. “After all, didn’t he just move all his things in a little at a time?”
I feel my right eye twitch at being reminded. It started small, at first. He’d leave an article of clothing behind, or maybe whatever small things were in his pockets. Next it was a few CDs he wanted me to listen to, which precipitated his stereo being brought in, because he accidently fried mine. Thinking back, he might have fried it on purpose, to have a reason to bring his own. Then it was his clothes, so he didn’t have to get up early in the morning, and the next thing I know, he has a key and everyone is calling my home his. It’s true that if I’d have caught on quicker, I would have put a stop to it, but it’s also true that I rather enjoy Bakura living with me. He’s intelligent and can carry a conversation easily, if he wants to. Plus, he dotes on Mokuba and keeps an eye on him if I have to leave for a conference or something.
“…He’s grown on me.” I grudgingly admit to Malik and Otogi.
“Like a puppy!” Malik exclaims happily, and even Otogi stares at him in confusion.
“Malik, how many times have I told you that puppies do not grow on people?” Marik asks as he walks into the kitchen, heading straight for the refrigerator. Malik pouts as his somehow-more-logical yami grabs a drink and turns to me. “What happened to your cheek?” I blink, having forgotten about it since Malik and Otogi hadn’t noticed it.
“Bakura.” I answer, seeing no reason to lie about it. These three aren’t Mokuba. They understand Bakura.
“Let me see.” Marik requests and Malik disappears into the apartment while Otogi checks on whatever he has simmering on the stove. I peel the bandage off, and Marik whistles. “He got you good, didn’t he? Have you been keeping it clean?”
“Of course. I’m hardly the type to let lacerations on my face get infected.” I say, trying not to snap. I truly hate being treated like an idiot, though. I know that’s not how he meant it to sound, so I tried not to snap. I’m not sure how well I managed it, but he isn’t snapping my neck, so my effort counted, at the very least.
“Right. Did you retaliate?” Marik asks, and I pause. Otogi and Malik, who has returned with a first-aid kit, are both listening closely for my answer.
“Yes…” I say cautiously. I’m treading strange waters, and I don’t know what the reactions will be.
Marik nods, sighing. “Figured as much. You’re not the type to let yourself get pushed around.” He sits back as Malik leans forward, apparently intent on cleaning and re-bandaging my cheek. Rather than pull away and demand to be able to do it myself, I just let the Egyptian do as he wants.
Otogi tastes the sauce he’s been cooking and switches off the stove. “Will you stay for dinner, Kaiba? We have plenty to share.” He offers, pulling out four plates. He doesn’t wait for an answer and sets a plate before me while handing Marik and Malik theirs. Once the plates are handed out, Otogi turns to the stove and bends over to open the oven. Malik whistles suggestively, placing the new bandage on my cheek. Otogi grins while he stands, pulling out a large pan of chicken. He pours some of the sauce onto the chicken, and then sets the pan onto the table. “What would you like to drink?”
I merely shrug while Malik hops up to answer the buzzer. Otogi pulls out a soft drink, some Cola that Bakura drinks when not guzzling beer or various other alcohols, and sets it in front of me. I would have preferred coffee, but Mokuba and Bakura both drink this brand of cola, so I’ve grown fond of its taste. It’s actually quite amazing what one can get used to, if the product just happens to be available within the household.
Marik is staring at the plate in front of him, as though debating whether or not he would actually eat. Without warning, however, he is on his feet, glaring at the doorway. Malik walks through, and behind him his Jounouchi. Malik must have given Marik a heads-up through their link, which explains the sudden movement. Otogi just busies himself with dishing out the chicken. And as much as I am concerned with Jounouchi’s sudden appearance, I can’t help but watch Otogi. It is slowly dawning on me that I haven’t seen him stop doing something since I arrived. It’s strange, because of the two, Otogi was always the more calm one. It hits me that I’ve been so concerned with my own suffering and Bakura’s that I haven’t thought of what Otogi and Malik must be feeling. I feel a sharp twinge of regret, for I started viewing them as friends not long after getting to know them.
“Kaiba.” Jounouchi says, gaining my attention. He appears to have been saying hello to everyone.
“…Jounouchi.” I finally reply, deciding to forgo the usual “mutt” insult.
“I, um…I know that this isn’t a good time, but…Do you know where Bakura is?” He asks, and it’s clear that the question is directed at all of us.
We all shake our heads, with the exception of Marik. “Why? Trying to take both out?” He growls, and Jounouchi visibly winces.
“Listen, I’m sorry about Ryou, I am…”
“Sorry won’t bring him back!” Marik shouts, his fists clenching. He looks ready to swing, and Jounouchi won’t be able to survive a rampaging Marik. I don’t particularly care for any of the Friendship Club, but I am curious as to why Jounouchi is asking about Bakura.
“He wasn’t even with them!” Otogi screams before I can interfere. Marik freezes and turns to the dice enthusiast. “Jou wasn’t invited on the outing Ryou was supposed to go on…You can’t blame him, Marik…So please, please just stop…” Otogi stares at his hands, lying on the table, tears making the green of his eyes shine brightly. Malik is beside him in moments, arms locking around him in a comforting movement. Marik stares in shock for a moment before relaxing his fists and sitting back down.
Silence reigns for several moments before I look to Jounouchi. “Why are you asking after Bakura?”
Jounouchi shuffles a little. “Well, he attacked Yugi, earlier…” Malik looks up sharply. “No, no, Yugi’s all right. Bakura was looking for Yami. Anyway, Yugi says he left after hearing the news broadcast saying Ryou’s murderer turned himself in. He’s apparently looking for protection from all the criminal killings going on.”
“So? I don’t see how Bakura going after the killer is something we should be concerned with.” Marik states.
Jounouchi shakes his head. “No, the problem is that Yami is looking for Bakura. He’s planning to banish Bakura to the Shadow Realm.” That got the desired effect. I am on my feet, pulling out my cell phone and the address of the friend that Mokuba is with from my pocket. I always have his friends’ addresses on me.
“Marik, can you pick up Mokuba from his friend’s place? I want to know he’s here, safe.” I request, knowing Otogi has that car of is. Marik nods. I press Mokuba’s number into my phone as I prepare to leave.
“What are you going to do?” Jounouchi asks, following me from the kitchen.
“I’m going to stop Yami, even if I have to kill him.” I answer, leaving the apartment. I take the steps three at a time, getting only Mokuba’s voice mail. Typical. “Mokuba, listen. Marik is going to pick you up, and you’re going to stay with him, understood? I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hang up, sliding into the back of the car. “Home.” I say sharply, and we’re off. I’m not even sure why I’m so panicked. It’s just this irrational fear of something harming Bakura.
We’re back at the mansion in no time, and I scowl as I notice the dark windows. At least one light should be on. There is always a light on. Rolling my eyes, I get out of the car, and my driver pulls away. I walk into the house, noting the eerie silence. The servants are all gone. I remember leaving a few here when I left, so Bakura must be here, as he is the only one authorized to make orders in my stead. Mokuba can, to a point. Bakura has full authority, though. I walk through the dark halls and up the dark stairs until I stand in front of my study door. Bakura has always had a thing for my study, probably because he’s usually trying to get me away from my work. Slowly, I push the door open, walking in. Bakura is sitting on my desk, staring blankly at me. My instincts are screaming for me to turn and run, but I know that will only ignite Bakura’s predatory instincts. So I simply walk forward, damn the consequences.
A/N: Whew. That was 15 pages actually written out. Anyway, only two, maybe three more chapters until this is done. Until next time, ja ne!