Here's a new oneshot I cooked up while listening to "Father Figure" by George Michael and a playlist of other songs. I listened to the line "Greet me with the eyes of a child", and it put me in mind of this image of Yami Bakura going to a playground at the park and finding a child – a little girl, of course – there. I think he's that kind of guy, of course. So this is what I came up with. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: Genius Kazuki Takahashi owns Yu-Gi-Oh, and fellow genius Jeff Franklin owns Full House. I own the oneshots and stories.

Such Beauty in a Child

"Darkness strikes, once again

I'm all alone, it feels like the end
He walks with me while I sleep

It's like a heart attack on a one way street

I can't sleep tonight
‛cause I gotta run, gotta hide

Running, running from this nightmare

I turn around, but there's no one there
And I'm running, running from this nightmare
Running, running from this nightmare

One way out, not this time

I've seen you before inside my mind
My heart beats faster with every step

I'm not afraid of you, you haven't gotten me yet

I can't sleep tonight
‛cause, I gotta run, I gotta hide

And I'm running, running from this nightmare

I turn around, but there's no one there
And I'm running, running from this nightmare
Running, running from this nightmare…

This nightmare…"

-Tuesday Knight, Running From This Nightmare

It was another sunny Saturday in San Francisco, California. Birds were sitting on tree branches or flying from one place to another while chirping their beautiful songs, and people were taking walks along the sidewalks or riding the trolley.

Eight-year-old Stephanie Tanner, her blue eyes shining, as well as her blonde hair, was at the park a few miles from her house, lying on her back on a bench, soaking up the sun's rays. Luckily she had put on enough sunscreen beforehand.

She was wearing a dress with a red-and-pink rose pattern and a white collar that began at her shoulders and ended almost down the front, white socks and black Mary Janes. A red scrunchie was wrapped around one of her golden locks, holding it in place. One leg was crossed over the other, giving her a look of relaxation. A content smile was on her face.

However, she was unaware of the mysterious pair of dark brown eyes watching her. . .

A smirk on his handsome visage, Yami Bakura watched his prey from where his hiding place behind the tree a few feet away from the bench where she was.

He had been watching her for two weeks now, and he was absolutely intrigued by her. Her beautiful blonde locks that he itched to run his fingers through. The blue eyes that were so innocent and full of life, and seemed to hold so much depth in them. The pretty dresses she wore so often that made her look like a princess of the long-ago medieval times, when knights would fight amongst themselves or a dragon for the women they loved. When the women and girls were to be captured, fought over and rescued.

He had exactly every detail of how he would talk to her planned out. He was sometimes like that – planning out things beforehand.

But this time, he decided to just "play it by ear", as he heard so many other people put it in this modern day and age.

(Yami Bakura's POV)

She had the body of a child, yes, but something in her... attracted me. It called me like the proverbial moth to a flame. And that something... was innocence.

Innocence, they say, is only found in young children. I believe that it appears when they transfigure from toddlers to little kids who are six, seven or eight years old. Still, as they also say, innocence never lasts forever.

Sooner or later, something... or in my case, someone... has to take it away.

I smirked as I watched her, my dark chocolate orbs almost glistening with lust. For a child, she was quite... beautiful. With that, I then began to walk over to where she was, my black trenchcoat swirling around my ankles and flowing downwards in the breeze. My smirk was growing wider.

As though she sensed my presence, she instantly opened her eyes and immediately swung her little feet so that they were hanging over the sides of the bench, almost touching the grass. Her hands were in her lap, of course. I could see her eyes moving from side to side, as though sensing the malevolent force that almost all children her age know as "danger". It was as though she was a deer and I was the tiger, the wolf or some other dangerous predator.

Maybe I was. I don't know.

Anyway, I soon stepped up to the bench and sat down beside her as she looked up at the sky, admiring how she looked. Her eyes, which were a deep blue in color, had something in them.

Namely it was something I had seen before but couldn't quite put my finger on.

Maybe it was something deep and mysterious. I just had to figure out what.

Her hair, blonde in color, was in curls – a look I thought suited her perfectly. I suddenly felt the urge to reach up and pull on or run my hand through one of those lovely golden locks, but I pushed it back and kept my hands in my own lap, as I believed now was not the time.

Then, as though suddenly sensing me sitting right beside her, she turned her head, and our eyes met. Her eyes widened and she sucked in her breath, as I've noticed children do when they see something they call "breathtaking" later on.

It was incredible. The words I can find to describe it was something along the lines of where it was as though she had never seen me or someone like me previously. Maybe she hadn't seen someone who looked like a teenager and had white, spiky hair. Or maybe it was because she had seen lots of people in a park like this one, but probably never run across someone like me.

Then she blinked, smiled and said,

"Hello, sir."

Ah, polite and beautiful. That is quite something I've never experienced in all my years.

"That's all I wanted, something special,
Something sacred in your eyes,
For just one moment, to be bold and naked
At your side

Sometimes I think that you'll never understand me
Maybe this time is forever, say it can be

That's all you wanted, something special,
Someone sacred in your life
Just for one moment, to be warm and naked
At my side"

I studied her. A lovely white face. A beautiful dress that brought out the loveliness in her even more. Blue eyes that looked – and were – so enchanting. She looked almost like a princess and a porcelain doll all at the same time. She looked fragile. Almost as if she would break after hitting something hard like a tile floor or a wooden floor.

But I knew better. I knew the truth.

She had an inner beauty. An inner light.


I had seen other little girls on my walks through town in the streets of San Francisco. Their hair – whether blonde, brunette, or red – really caught the sunlight in summertime and often got streaks of gold or auburn in them. Plus their eyes – blue, brown or green – were so captivating and eye-catching. No wonder I was fascinated just by watching them. It was as though I could watch them for hours and still be inspired by them. Once I was on my usual walk, and I saw a group of little girls who were walking in the opposite direction. I smiled at them as I walked by them. They locked eyes with me, and as soon as I was out of their hearing, using my super-sharp ears, I heard their voices.

"Wow. He's... kind of cute."

"He looks so...mysterious. So handsome – and charming too."

"I don't know. Did you see the way he was looking at us? It was like he... was looking into our souls or something."

I couldn't help but mentally smile to myself as I remembered.

"Allow me the pleasure of knowing your name, darling," I asked. As I spoke I reached over and took one of her hands into mine. She looked at me, and was instantly caught in my gaze.

"Stephanie," she said, her voice ringing like a melody I would often hear in my dreams as it danced through the night air. "My name is Stephanie Tanner."

"Sometimes I think that you'll never understand me
But something tells me together, we'd be happy

I will be your father figure (Oh baby)
Put your tiny hand in mine (I'd love to)
I will be your preacher teacher (Be your daddy)
Anything you have in mind (It would make me)
I will be your father figure (Very happy)
I have had enough of crime (Please let me)
I will be the one who loves you
till the end of time"

"Stephanie," I said, letting the name roll off my tongue. I rather liked the sound of it. Very... inspiring. It was the kind of name that probably inspired the poets of old to wax lyrical about flowers, little girls and meadows.

I smiled. "A beautiful name," I grinned, "for a beautiful young girl."

As I said this I then took her hand and raised it to my lips. The blush on her cheeks as she watched me place a kiss on the back of it sure made me smirk internally and mentally. Clearly I knew how to play the part of the gentleman, and I played it well through the centuries, as I knew all too well.

After all, being a gentleman usually means being kind to a young girl or a woman.

"Uh, thanks," she said, gently pulling her hand out of mine as I purred at just feeling her fingers around mine. "But I think I'd better go."

She then started to get off the park bench. However, just as her feet touched the ground, I then reached over and wrapped an arm around her small waist.

"Come here, child," I purred before she could open her mouth, pulling her back up against my chest. "You know, it's dangerous for a little girl like you to be walking home by herself."

She closed her mouth and looked back at me. I smiled, then raised a hand and finally ran it through her beautiful blonde locks.

"Really?" she asked. "You think so?"

I nodded. "I believe it's true. And I also have a confession to make as well."

"What is it?" she asked. "Tell me."

I grinned. "It's quite simple. You have something in you that nobody else does. And that is beauty. You're really smart, and charming, and beautiful."

She blinked, puzzled. "Did you say I was beautiful?"

I nodded. "Of course, my dear. Of course."

I then noticed that a blush had made its appearance on each of her beautiful cheeks. Apparently she was doing her best to process what I had said, and come to the decision that maybe I was right.

I then slid my hands down her shoulders to her wrists, and then finally onto her own hands, covering them up. I noticed that all the while I was doing that, her blue orbs were watching the progress of my hands as my fingers were lightly traveling down her arms, and then onto her hands.

"You see, my dear Stephanie," I purred, smirking, into her ear, "you really are quite a beauty, and it's been quite a long while since I've found a young child – especially a little girl such as yourself."

As I spoke I then gently pushed her off of my lap, got to my feet, and then held out my hand to her.

"Come with me, Stephanie," I purred, putting on a cool facade.

I had always been good at learning the tips and tricks that serial killers – especially the ones who killed children – would use to lure their victims.

Usually they would use the trick of telling them, "My dog is lost. Can you help me look for him?" Other times they would say, "I have some candy in a special secret place for you. You want it?"

Of course, I watch from the shadows as the child then walks away with the stranger – and is never seen alive again. Instead, the child is sometimes found dead. That is what I call "the shedding of innocent blood".

However, I disliked seeing a killer take away the life of a child. And I still do, even to this day. It was, and still is, my belief that when serial killers brutally spill a child's blood, they shed blood they have no right to shed. How dare they take away a child's innocence and a child's crimson life force?

I then made a vow that I would never kill a child. A child is, in my opinion, too innocent to have his – or her – crimson life force spilled, whether it's on the ground, in a field, on a marble floor, or on the floor of a church.

Anyway, Stephanie looked up at me, and then at my hand. She was evidentially struggling with an "inner conflict", as I've heard many mortals call the struggle with themselves and the dark sides of their personalities.

Finally, having made up her mind, she then put her hand in mine, and I wrapped my fingers around hers, gently pulled her to her feet, and then headed out of the park.

My hand was holding hers in a gentle grip.

Well, that's pretty much it. And I hope you liked reading this oneshot as much as I liked writing it. And the song "Father Figure" by George Michael is really inspiring, in my view.