The Thief and his Willow

The Thief and his Willow

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Chapter Eight: A Party?

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As he walked nervously through the kitchen area, Ryou gained stares from many of the chef slaves. It would seem that the walls of Zorc’s Domain weren’t as thick as he had hoped. He blushes, pushing back a strand of his hair as he walks over to Mallie. She was busy cutting up some vegetables. Ryou joins her.

Looking over her new friend, Mallie asks, “You alright, Rye?”

“I’m fine,” Ryou lies. He begins to cut up some fresh greens.

“Some of the women heard ya screamin’ last night,” Mallie said, making Ryou even more uncomfortable. “They heard Bakura doin’ you up. I didn’t know you were a sex slave, too.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Ryou whispers accidentally. Suddenly terrified, Ryou turns to Mallie. She was beyond shocked, and Ryou could see the sorrow in her eyes.

“Rye,” Mallie stutters, turning her attention on the chopping table in front of her. “Y--ya mean he--he raped ya?”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Ryou begs.

“B--but Rye,” Mallie places her knife down. She places vegetables she has chopped in a red pottery bowl. “Not even our Master Zorc would do that to a lady. He chooses ones meant t’be that kinda slave. You should tell Master Zorc what Bakura did. Make him take punishment for his actions.”

“No!” Ryou yells. Heads turn, and Ryou finds himself blushing again. He lowers his gaze, blushing wildly. The many women not understanding his reason, they push back to work, trying to stay out of poor Ryou’s business. “No Mallie, you mustn’t tell a soul. Please promise me?”

Mallie felt afraid for her newest friend. She was concerned for Ryou’s future interactions with Bakura, but Mallie saw from the pleading expression on Ryou’s face, she knew Ryou had to trust her. Smiling, Mallie nods. “Alright, I won’t tell nobody.”

Relieved, Ryou gives an thankful nod to his friend. “Thank you, Mallie.”

--

As the day dreaded on, Ryou prayed that it’d never end. But once he took notice of Bakura making his way into the kitchens, Ryou wished to hide his self from the terrible thief and disappear forever. Led to Ryou by Hana, Bakura takes his hand and together, they leave. Ryou turns to Mallie, noticing a frown upon his friend’s face. Ryou lips, ‘Don’t tell’ just as the kitchen doors close behind him and Bakura.

--

Thrown to his bed, Ryou looks up at his master, shivering with fear. But Bakura only smirked, and he turned to a silver tray. He opens it, revealing cut-up chicken and vegetables. The chicken steamed, and Ryou’s nostrils filled with its exotic flavor. His stomach growls, aching to be fed, and he licks his lips as Bakura brings the tray over.

“Here,” Bakura smirks. “Eat.”

Accepting Bakura’s offer, Ryou eats. He chews on his chicken forcefully, allowing its rich juices to slide down his chin. He goes for another bite, but the chicken is suddenly snatched away by Bakura. Ryou looks up, surprised that Bakura had done such a thing.

“Why do you eat as if you won’t get a second chance?” Bakura asks.

Suddenly embarrassed, Ryou wipes at his lips using his hand. Bakura grunts with dissatisfaction. “You’re playing the role as female, are you not? You shouldn’t eat like a pig!”

“I’m sorry,” whispers Ryou.

“Humph, don’t be sorry. You grew up in a rich society, did you not? You should eat more properly. Not even I eat that fucking fast.”

Angry, Ryou shouts, “I know how to eat properly!”

Snorting, Bakura holds out the piece of chicken, re-offering its deliciousness to Ryo. “Show me.”

Ryou takes the piece of chicken. He stares longingly at it, just wanting to scarf the entire thing down. But to show he could eat with etiquette manners, he shows Bakura just how he had to eat when he was living with his father. He raises the chicken just to his lips, and slowly he takes a bite, just enough to get a small piece of the meat into his mouth. Slowly, he chews with his mouth closed, chewing up the small amount of meat slowly before swallowing. He repeats his actions, gaining a smirk from Bakura. The thief watched, ecstatic by just how beautiful Ryou looked when he ate perfectly.

“That’s better,” Bakura chuckles. He takes a bite of his own chicken. “I want you to eat like that from now on. It makes you more appealing to my eyes.”

And as he ate, Ryou tried hard not to break down in tears as he slowly ate his chicken, one lonely little piece at a time.

--

Baker’s Bar was exceedingly loud that evening. Bakura passes through crowds of drunks to reach his favorite spot at the bar. He had decided to get a drink after Ryou went to bed. However, before he allowed Ryou to fall asleep, he forced the kid to give him a blowjob. He can still feel the boy’s soft, pink tongue sliding along his tip. Bakura seemed positive a strong alcoholic beverage would push the thought from his mind.

He greets Baker before ordering strong sake. Baker fills a glass, and hands it over. Taking one large gulp, Bakura demands a second, following a third and fourth. Perhaps five was too much. But sitting there, just finishing his third share of sake, Bakura hears a familiar voice laughing from across the bar. He turns, his eyes meeting Jalal’s back. The man was playing a game of ‘Cards,’ one of few games found in bars and such in Kumal. Jalal had just beaten a very large man, taking what he had betted.

“Thank you very much, sir,” Jalal laughs. “Alright! Does anybody else one to step up and challenge me?”

Most customers shook their heads. Some stared off, seeming to be in deep thought. Only one voice challenges Jalal. “I’ll take you on!”

All eyes turn on Bakura.

Jalal stands to his feet as Bakura steps forward. Though he had five glasses of sake, Bakura seemed surprisingly stable. Bakura stands, holding out his bag of coins. He dangles it, the sounds of coins jingle. The sound pleases Jalal, and he motions his hand to the empty chair sitting opposite of his own. A tiny table rested between the two chairs, and on top of it was a stack of playing cards. “Have a seat.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Bakura smirks. He sits, watching carefully as Jalal shuffles the deck.

“How much do you wager?” Jalal asks, placing seven cards down for each player.

“That all depends,” Bakura said as he rests his elbow on the table. “How much have you won?”

“Oh, let’s see,” Jalal counts his collection. “I’ve won well over fifty coins.”

“Then that is how much I’ll bet.” Bakura puts his brown bag of coins on the table, causing many gasps and surprised awes to go about the bar. Even Baker was surprised his friend was betting such a large amount.

Intrigued, Jalal nods along. “Fifty coins it is, then. Let us pick up our decks.”

So their game began. Card after card, draw after draw, and both men stood tall. Neither were backing down. Bakura places an eight over a four: the bigger the number, the better. The person who finishes with the smallest number in his hand wins.

“You’re quite good,” Jalal smiles, placing down a nine. “I’m impressed.”

“I am quite impressive,” Bakura said matter-of-factly. “After all, I’m great at being deceptive.”

“Indeed, you are.” Jalal eyes his deck. He held a three, two two’s, and a seven. He was sure he’d win. There were no more eights or nines, and there was at least one ten left in the last remaining cards of the deck. Even if he drew it, he’d place it and that’d leave him with fourteen.

Bakura had a pretty decent deck, as well. His numbers were small, and he was sure he’d be victorious. He eyes Jalal suspiciously. “Your draw.”

Jalal does draw, and he is shocked by what he had drawn. Another seven. He could not muster his luck, and he smirks wildly as he places his highest number, seven, down. “My final turn has ended. Your draw.”

Though feeling confident, Bakura draws. He eyes the card, raising an eyebrow. Jalal was curious of the draw: the final card. Though he already knew what the number was. He had beaten Bakura, and he smirks victoriously as Bakura places a card down. To Jalal’s shock, Bakura had placed a nine.

“What?” Jalal asks. He glares over at Bakura. “Why’d you place a nine?”

“I placed a nine to win,” Bakura answers. He smirks deviously at his opponent. “Are you ready to show cards? Lowest number wins.”

“I know that,” Jalal clenches, his teeth rub together nervously. He was positive the final card had been a ten. Was he wrong? “Fine. I still win. Here’s my deck.” Jalal places his final four cards on the table. “Fourteen.”

Bakura nods. “Very, very impressive, but I’m afraid not impressive enough.” And Bakura sets down his hand: a ten and three ones. “Thirteen. I win.”

“What!” Jalal stands to his feet, and suddenly there is applause as most customers congratulate Bakura. “That can’t be! You fucking cheated, Bakura!”

Bakura stands to, grabbing Jalal by his shirt. “You dare call me a cheater? I won fair and square, you little weasel! Now, I’d like my money!”

Jalal’s two henchmen swarm forward, but Jalal’s raised hands makes them back off. “It’s fine. He is correct. I lost, fair and square.” Jalal counts fifty coins, handing them over. “You did a really risky play there, placing down your nine instead of your ten. What if you had lost?”

“Then I would have lost, “Bakura shrugs. “Thank you.” He lets Jalal go, and stands patiently as Jalal hands fifty coins over.

Suddenly, Jalal bursts into laughter. Bakura, as well as the other customers, eye Jalal as if he were mad. “You are one interesting character, Bakura! It’s as if you’ve completely transformed into something else! Tell me, why are you in such a surprisingly happy mood?”

And that’s what Bakura had been waiting for. He smirks at Jalal while pushing back his wild white hair. “I’ve changed thanks to that slave I had purchased from you. She has completely turned me into a new man.”

Bingo! Bakura has caught Jalal’s full attention. Sneering, Jalal whispers, “Has she, now?”

“She is very proper, for a slave,” Bakura smirks. “And she’s taught me many things.”

“Is that so?” Jalal rubs at his chin, suddenly having a wickedly awesome idea. “Well, it just so happens that the High Lord Muddo is throwing a party for the greatest there is. I was invited, and I get to invite whomever I like. I very much would love to see you and -- what was her name? Rye? Yes, I’d love to see Rye there.”

Bakura ponders the thought. “A party? What are you thinking?”

“I just want to make a good impression,” Jalal said. “And if Rye is as proper as you say she is, I’m sure you can find something decent for her to wear. And, for yourself. It might be a good chance for you to act -- normal and gracious.”

Bakura understood Jalal’s meaning of this party: humiliation. But Bakura could not be humiliated so easily, and he knew that darling Ryou had the perfect manners for such an occasion. And he had the perfect thing for darling Ryou to wear. Smirking, Bakura nods his head. “That sounds interesting. We’ll be there. Just give me when and where?”

So Jalal does so. Bakura promises to be there, right on the dial. He turns to leave, but Jalal shouts one final thing: “It’s a shame really, having to bring a date you can’t even really call your ‘special someone.’ Tell me, Bakura, how has it been suffering for so long with Rye sleeping in your room?”

Oh, Jalal had no fucking clue. Smirking, Bakura turns to Jalal, the man noticing the new ‘look’ in Bakura’s sparkling eyes. Bakura walks until he is face to face with Jalal. He places his lips close to the man’s ear, and he whispers. “It’s been quite enjoyable, actually. Sadly, I did not keep my promise. Yes, I fucked her. I fucked her up good, and it was fucking amazing.”

Bakura backs away, laughing inside at Jalal’s shocked impression. Bakura licks his lips, motioning to Jalal all he had done to innocent Ryou before exiting the bar.

With glass in hand, Jalal easily breaks it. Bakura has gone too far. He’s won too many games, but the next game Jalal knew he’d surely win.

--

Bakura enters his chambers, being quiet as a mouse. He closes the door behind him before walking over to the sleeping form of Ryou. He leans down, smirking at the loveliness of Ryou’s face, it glowing from a single candle lit in the room.

Ryou seemed at peace when sleeping, and it made him glitter with beauty. Bakura, taking his hand, slowly wipes away a strand of Ryou’s snowy white hair. He listens to Ryou’s breathing, watches the boy’s chest rise and fall. He places his hand to Ryou’s lips, smiling at feeling slight warm air pass Ryou’s lips, attaching to his hand.

Before he stands, Bakura lowers his head to the sleeping willow. Bakura’s lips trace over those lips, gently pecking them. Standing, Bakura wipes at his lips. That single peck had caused him to shiver, and he began to get an uncomfortable feeling.

Trying to ignore it, Bakura slips into his own bed after removing his red robe. He lies, having his back facing Ryou’s bed.

As he lie there, wrapped in his covers, Bakura’s hand find their way to his lips. The touch causes him to shiver again, and he can’t help but question why he felt like he did.

‘Why? Why do I feel so strongly for that kid?’

-End Chapter Eight-

Yeah, I’m not too satisfied with this chapter. Sigh! I’ve been working on a project for geology class all freaking week, and I finally finished. So I kinda rushed this chapter, but I still hope you enjoyed it, and look forward to chapter nine, which I hope to update faster. I’ve also started working on a new YuGiOh story, which I like better than this one. Heh.