The car hit the guardrail with a sickening crack. Metal shrieked and twisted, sounding almost like something living and in pain. Bakura winced. It was so clichéd. And yet, at that second, the ground dropped away underneath his feet – okay, car – and he could see the sunlight glint off the waves at the base of the cliff below him. He started to pull himself towards the window, with the thought of jumping out and maybe catching something along the cliffside, or at the very least hitting the water feet-first and maybe having a chance in hell of surviving this fall. A snowball's chance in the fabled scorching heat of hell, but it was better than the certain death if he stayed inside the metal coffin surrounding him.

He got no farther than a couple of millimeters. Ryou had had the courtesy to buckle his seatbelt when climbing in the car, just like a good, responsible driver, and by the time Bakura realized this and had unlatched the safety catch, it was too late.

A brief second of incoherent rage overwhelmed him just before the car hit the water; rage at his omote for being able to pull off a stunt like this, and rage at himself for not noticing the potential within his omote. Yadonushi was not supposed to think on its own. Wasn't that supposed to be the truth?

"Bakura-kun!"

At the sound of Yugi's voice, Bakura turned. Rearranging his features to match the expression of wide-eyed innocence that had once been used by the boy whose body he now owned, he smiled. "Mutou-kun!"

Yuugi chattered away on some inconsequential aspect, and Bakura withdrew slightly, allowing that facet of himself which was his omote to interact with the student. Once Yuugi was satisfied, Bakura reigned in his other self and stowed it away until it would be useful again. Yuugi thought him well and gone; that was fine by him. The less the meddling pharaoh knew, the better. Especially as he now possessed three – three! – of the Sennen Items Bakura coveted.

His omote wasn't quite as submissive as usual, and Bakura frowned slightly as he wrestled the normally cooperative spirit into its ordered place. Once it was again quiescent, he returned his attention to his surroundings.

In retrospect, he should have investigated his omote's rebellion more carefully. It had been so long, though, since the spirit – for so he thought of the original occupant of his host body – had shown him any resistance, that he took it for mere restlessness. Human nature being what it was, it needed to occasionally rebel or it would break.

That conclusion in and of itself should have been another warning. Ryou – how long had it been since he had addressed his omote by name? – was stubborn, in his own quiet way. And yet, Bakura had never thought to question his actions.

Had he become too complacent in his assumed seat of power? Probably.

He never saw anything coming; never felt a catalyst, never understood what prompted Ryou to engage in rash behavior. Neither did Yuugi or any of the others ever act in a manner other than usual; in fact, they paid almost as little attention to Ryou as he did. Honda threw a lingering glance once in a while, but in the end, he never stayed.

The year-end exams had just been completed; he and Ryou had done neither better nor worse than they did under normal circumstances. He himself had started constructing and discarding various elaborate and eminently unworkable plots to obtain the Sennen items possessed by Mutou Yuugi. He had no direct designs on them at the moment in any case; he preferred to wait until the appropriate opportunity came along. The plotting was just for fun.

He felt the spirit stirring again shortly after Mutou left, and quelled it with an impatient thought. It had been a while since he had let it out, but still! He reached his home and nodded a greeting to Ryou's family, continuing to his bedroom without pausing. The door shut behind him, and he turned his attention to Ryou.

"What's wrong with you?"

"…nothing. I…"

Bakura waited impatiently for Ryou to finish his sentence. He tended to forget that they were separate entities; Ryou had been a part of him for so long he almost thought of the boy as just another innate facet of himself. And so he didn't consider that Ryou was capable of independent thought. He thought of these conversations more along the lines of a debate against himself. "You what?" he asked finally.

"I… want to drive."

Both Ryou and Bakura were fully aware that Ryou did not possess either a car or a driver's license.

"You want to drive," Bakura returned flatly.

A shy assent was all he got from his omote. Frowning, he searched the spirit's motives, but found nothing. He sighed.

"Fine, I'll find us a car." He hadn't driven before, either. It should prove interesting at the very least.

Bakura was nothing if not innovative. A short while later saw him at the wheel of one of the latest Mitsubishi sports models, keys in the ignition. No alarms had been set off and no one suspected that he had no business in the car. Bakura threw back his head and laughed exultantly, the wind blowing through his shaggy white hair.

An insistent tugging from his omote caught his attention. He sighed, and turned over control of his body. He did, of course, retain awareness of everything that went on and the option of wresting control back.

Ryou was a surprisingly good driver; he took the corners at the highest speed possible, and drove with a near reckless abandon that left Bakura both surprised and delighted. It was a fascinating experience. It didn't take long to leave the city behind and reach mostly empty countryside, and Bakura lost himself in the sheer pleasure of simply watching and feeling as Ryou drove.

The road up the mountainside was the first sign Bakura had that something might not be quite right; Ryou was taking the curves faster than even he thought wise, but as they'd stayed on the road, he'd stopped paying attention again, and simply admired the brilliant glitter of the ocean below them.

A wave of relief and joy compounded by fierce triumph swept over him, and by the time he figured out that it had been coming from Ryou, it was too late. The car was already heading straight for the guardrail and there was nothing he could do.

owari