Basin of Water
This was for the Casteshipping round of the contest I'm in.
Does no one else think that if Bakura and Atemu met each other when they were younger, they would piss each other off? I did. :D That's where I got the idea of this contest fic from. It's stupid, kind of pointless, but it was fun to make. As usual, it was made in a rush. XD
I called it 'Basin of Water' … I don't know why. I just did. I'll change the title later, maybe.
Disclaimer: Don't own. I wish I did, but I don't.
The sun beat down on the crowded marketplace, where one could barely hear above the racket of the peddlers trying to sell their wares.
"The finest clothes here, fit to make the Pharaoh jealous!"
One could naturally assume that all others not selling were buying, which was almost accurate. A boy in an oversized red cloak who looked no older then fourteen, white hair and the scar on his right cheek, skulked by the clothes stand. The cloth merchant watched the boy with a wary, suspicious gaze that the boy ignored completely.
As people bustled by him, occasionally jostling him, the boy would discreetly slip his hand into their robes. When the fishing proved fruitless, he grumbled and eyed the fresh fruit stand. He was hungry, and the man wasn't watching…
As he shuffled to the stand, the boy watched a small child swathed in a ratty cloak toss a gold bracelet encrusted with jewels to the fruit vendor, who looked as if he had never seen anything so expensive in his life (where the boy could have gotten such a trinket, the boy didn't know, but now was not the time to wonder); the vendor was distracted, the boy thief's hand shot out –
Success! "Another steal by Bakura, the Thief King," said the boy, Bakura, to himself under is breath triumphantly. He took a large bite out of his spoils and disappeared into the crowd before the vendor had a chance to catch him.
When Bakura was sure he was a good distance away, he stopped, looking back at the palace. "One day…" he murmured, grey-blue eyes narrowing dangerously. He took another vicious bite out of his apple – only to choke on it when he was pushed roughly in the back.
"Hey you!" Bakura spun around angrily to confront whoever would dare to touch the self-proclaimed Thief King – only to find himself looking down at the child from before, who was so tightly wrapped in his shabby cloak that Bakura couldn't see his face.
"What the hell do you want," Bakura grumbled, leering at him. He wasn't in the mood for this – sure, the apple was a great steal, but he was hungry, damn it, and he didn't want to waste time on this runt when he could be getting more food.
The boy though, instead of being intimidated like a good, normal peasant boy should have been, jabbed his finger into Bakura's chest mercilessly. "I saw what you did! Stealing is illegal, you could've been caught, and you could have had your hands chopped off!"
"Why do you care?" snapped Bakura. "I didn't steal from you!"
"It's against the law!" the boy huffed. "Laws are made for a reason, you know."
"To oppress the people?"
"No! To keep the nation from descending into chaos!" the boy cried, waving his hands dramatically.
"For the love of Ra… shut up, boy!" Bakura started walking away, fully intending to leave the boy behind. The boy wouldn't have it.
"Boy? I'm no younger then you are, I'll have you know," he said, running after the young thief.
"I'm not a runt! I'm just – I'm just shorter then average, that's all! Father said –"
"Your father can shove it up his –" He was interrupted when the boy gave an audible gasp. Bakura looked back at him curiously, and could faintly see the boy's eyes widen.
"Ooh… you shouldn't have said that," the boy said in a hushed voice, looking frantically around him as if he expected someone to swoop down and snatch up Bakura, "especially not about Father."
Bakura gave out a loud growl; in one fluid movement he span around and grabbed the boy by the front of his cloak, wrenching him off the ground. The boy struggled to no avail, his feet kicking wildly in midair. Bakura brought the boy closer until they were almost nose-to-nose.
"I have," hissed Bakura, "a dagger with me right now. It would take no time at all to slit your throat. All I wanted was to get a meal, that's all I wanted! But as usual, the gods are against me – they sent you! A stupid little peasant boy who doesn't know his place!"
The boy was stubbornly silent the whole time. Bakura frowned, cocking his head slightly to the side, surveying his prey curiously. "For that matter… you're quite unlike any other peasant I've met. Cocky little thing…" Bakura grinned. "It's like looking into a basin of water. You're like me. But –" And the grin disappeared off his face and he dropped the boy without warning, "with that said, you piss me off."
The boy barely caught himself, glaring angrily at Bakura.
"Thank the gods that I didn't kill you now, boy. Always remember that you were spared by the merciful Thief King who, in his great wisdom, allowed you to live another day of your wretched existence." With that said and a dramatic flapping of his cloak, Bakura began walking again. Perhaps now he will leave me be!
The boy blinked after at him, his face pensive. It was only a moment later that he jogged after the thief, pushing through the crowd to follow the white hair. To Bakura's dismay, the boy made it through and was again trotting behind him like a lost puppy.
"Why not what?" Bakura grumbled irritably.
"Why won't you kill me? Am I not good enough for you to kill?"
"I won't kill you in the middle of a crowd where there is little chance of escape from the guards, especially for no good reason, though it's been crossing my mind frequently as of late. And yes, I don't want to stain the blade with your dirty blood. This blade is only for royals," said Bakura, his grey eyes flashing at the last sentence.
The boy retreated into a thoughtful silence for a moment. Perhaps he would finally leave. The gods, it seemed, were not on Bakura's side today however, because the next moment the boy started chattering again.
"That's awfully rude, you know. I'm just as good of a kill as the next person. Does that mean you're afraid of me? You said you were the Thief King."
"Why do you beg for death? Why do you not leave me alone? And I said I was the Thief King, not the King of bloody murder!" Bakura growled through clenched teeth.
This time it was the boy who stopped. Bakura, perhaps taken by surprise, found himself turning around to look at him. He could almost see under the hood of the boy's tattered cloak if he looked from just the right angle. The boy's amethyst eyes (a rare colour, Bakura pondered, though he was not one to talk) were flickering uncertainly.
"I suppose…you just interest me."
"I'm flattered," said Bakura sarcastically, turning back away with a loud swish of his red cloak.
"Hey! HEY! I was spilling my feelings to you, and you – and you –" the boy sputtered indignantly.
"Shut up, boy. I don't like people who blabber on mindlessly."
Bakura heard the boy gasp. "You dare – no one has ever talked to me like that!"
"Well then, it's high-time someone did. You're an annoying, whiny little brat who ought to be chained up with the Hebrew slaves and building the pyramids. At least then you'd be put to good use."
It was only a moment later that Bakura found himself on the ground. The boy had pounced on him, and was now wrestling to keep him pinned down. Bakura flipped himself over; the boy was at least smart enough not to get caught underneath, instead jumping back and then slamming himself back down into Bakura's chest, straddling him.
"Take that back!"
Bakura glared into the amethyst eyes defiantly. "I don't take orders."
"Take it back!"
"No!" The two boys began to wrestle, oblivious to everything around them, until they rolled into the alley between a bar and a brothel. After a good ten minutes of their fight, both participants let go and flopped down beside each other, panting hard, both with an assortment of cuts and bruises.
"You… y-you're pretty good…" gasped Bakura, "for a… for a stupid peasant boy…"
"Thanks, I… I-I guess…" the boy wheezed, clutching his chest. "You… you aren't bad yourself…"
Bakura sat up, trying to catch his breath. "Lots of… experience." He sent a grin at the boy, who had also pushed himself up. "I take back what I said before. I like you."
The boy blinked. Then he blinked again. "You… you do?"
"Yeah," Bakura smirked, subtly edging closer. "How about I show you exactly how the Thief King operates?"
The boy looked a bit uncomfortable at the last bit. "Thanks, but no –"
"Shut up for a minute," Bakura said. He pushed the boy down hard and clambered onto him, straddling his waist. "Lesson number one: the Thief King takes the treasure most valuable to him." Before the boy could protest, Bakura had leaned down and kissed him.
The boy's eyes widened but he didn't push away. Instead, his eyes slipped closed as he realized that he was enjoying it, of all things! But alas, the best moments in life don't last forever. Bakura pushed himself back up, panting softly, and smirked at his newest 'treasure', who was still in a daze on the ground, eyes still shut.
"Your first kiss, hm?"
At the remark, the boy shot up, almost hitting foreheads with Bakura. "You wish! I'll have you know that women throw themselves at me –"
"Ha! As if! You just won't admit that I stole your first kiss!"
The boy was about to respond, but then paused; looking up at the sky, where the sun was dipping lower, the boy let out a soft curse and pushed Bakura off of him. He toppled onto the ground, letting out a curse of his own. "What the hell was that for?"
"I have to go – Shimon will kill me if I'm caught – oh Ra, oh Ra," the boy muttered as he stood up quickly and ran out of the alley.
"What – who – where are you going?" Bakura shouted after him.
"I have to go!" was the only response he got as the boy turned the corner and disappeared.
"But – Ra damn," Bakura cursed, glaring sullenly at the empty air in the opening of the alley. "I didn't get your damn name, you fool." He pushed himself off the dirt and sauntered out of the alley, kicking the ground, smirking widely. "I did steal the best treasure of my career so far, though."
The boy looked around him as he jogged, the stone palace walls towering over him.
"Where is he, where is he…" he muttered. He fell to his knees, parting the sand on the ground in front of him with determination until he heard a loud whistle. Looking over, he spotted a stern-faced teenager with long brown hair poke his head out of the hidden door to the palace wine cellars, just five paces over, anxiously. The teenager's eyes widened when he spotted the boy, and he waved him over.
"Hurry up, they've been getting suspicious!"
The boy hurried over to the teenager and climbed down the steps; the teenager gave one last look around the surface before closing the door above them. The two rushed down the staircase, the light from the torches along the wall guiding their way.
The brown-haired boy continued sending sideways glances at the other, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts, until he finally became exasperated and cleared his throat loudly; the other boy looked at his friend.
"So what, Mahaado?"
Mahaado gave the boy a disbelieving look as they went. "So what was it like, being outside?"
The boy paused thoughtfully, then pushed back his cloak; wild hair was revealed, black and red, and blond bangs framed his face. The prince of Egypt pushed his bangs out of his face, touching his fingers to his lips, an almost dreamy look coming over his face.
"It was," Atemu began, "the most amazing experience of my entire life. You see, there was this boy…"
I might continue this later, but for now, it ends right here. I hope you enjoyed it! Like I said, kinda stupid, kinda pointless… but oh-so-much fun.
Until next time!