This is a rewrite of What is a Demon, in which I shall apply what I learned the last time around.
As we know, this story will be about Bakura after the massacre at Kul Elna. And as we also know, Yu-Gi-Oh! doesn't belong to me. ENJOY!
If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?
Chapter One: Revenge
Fire, blood, and so much screaming.
Women being beaten and raped, all the while screaming for mercy, children being cast into flames while they still drew breath, the heat searing their throats shut. Rows of men being hewn down like wheat at harvest time.
This is the scene that awaited a singular white-haired boy, who ran through the destruction that surrounded him, desperately searching for his family.
One of them was right behind him. The boy fell to the ground. The man smirked and the child he had at his mercy. He held his spear up to the boy's face and dug it deep into his skin, reveling in his cry of pain. He dragged the sharp edge along his cheek, leaving a long, gaping wound.
"Leave him alone!"
A tall teenage boy stood defiantly, silently taunting the soldiers, who momentarily forgot the smaller boy, who scrambled onto his feet and ran.
"If you're gonna pick on somebody, then why don't you pick on me?"
"Brother!" the younger boy yelled.
The teenager smiled at him.
"Just run," he said, reassuringly. "Don't worry about me. I'll be alright."
He ducked behind one of the few buildings that had not been burned. Please don't let them find me! Ra, please don't let them find me!
Nobody came. Eventually he got the courage to peek out into the streets. They were torturing the boy who had protected him.
Too terrified to move, the boy could do nothing but watch as the men ruthlessly beat him.
Finally satisfied that the boy had suffered sufficiently for his crime of daring to defy them, they moved on to another victim. The younger boy darted to the moaning figure on the ground. He coughed up blood with a horrible gurgling sound.
The younger child knelt down in a pool of blood.
"Ba…Bakura…" the older boy smiles a painful smile. Then, his eyes closed, never to open again.
"NO!" Bakura cried, taking his brother's lifeless head in his hands. "Please! Don't leave me all alone! Mother and Father are already gone! You're all I have!"
He had seen it with his own eyes. The swords, the spears, the shouts, the pleas for mercy, the horrible screams as they were cast into a pit of boiling gold, shrieking as their flesh melted away from their bones…
He could bear no more. He ran.
"Hey, that kid's getting away!" a soldier shouted.
"Let him go," another said in disgust. "What harm can one little kid do?"
Until this point, Bakura had been too horrified to shed tears. Now, they came thick and fast, pouring down his soft, young face, diluting the blood from his injury where the water touched the vital red fluid.
The sun began to rise, casting its heat onto the barren landscape. A hot wind blew sand in all directions, stinging his eyes and leaving tiny cuts on his skin. Still, through it all the weary boy trudged on. He wanted to get as far away from that horrible scene as possible. The screams still echoed in his mind, never ceasing their torment.
My family…my village…
Sweltering under the sun's unforgiving rays, plagued by fear and thirst and hunger, still he continued on. To find help. To find hope. To find anything.
All day long Bakura continued to walk. A long distance ahead of him, he could make out the faint outline of a city.
Eventually, as the sun was at its highest point in the sky, he collapsed onto the hot sand. His bright purple eyes fluttered closed, and he was released from his pain by the blackness of sleep.
Bakura awoke slowly, vaguely aware that he was leaning against a wall in a sort of slumped sitting position.
Someone put a wet cloth onto his face, gently rubbing at the cut on his cheek.
"Ow," he moaned quietly, squirming feebly.
"Hold still, child."
That was a voice. A woman's voice.
"Here," she said, holding a mug of water up to Bakura's lips. He drank gratefully, feeling the cool liquid slide down his dry throat like some miraculous healing potion. He took the cup in his hands, and the woman went back to washing his wounds, stopping every so often to wash out the blood in a basin that sat beside her.
"What happened to you, kid? Where did you come from?"
Bakura nearly choked on the water.
"I…" he started, soon to be stopped by the huge lump in his throat. His eyes became wild with terror as he recalled all the screaming. All the blood. He began hyperventilating, clutching at his chest as pain tore at his heart.
"Take it easy!" the woman said quickly, dropping the rag and taking Bakura by the shoulders. "Calm down!"
Bakura gripped the fabric of the woman's dress with his free hand as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently back and forth.
"No! No! No! No!" he screamed. "Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?"
"What's wrong?" the woman was becoming frantic.
"They killed them all! I saw everything! So much blood! And the screaming! Oh, Ra! Oh Ra! Oh Ra!"
Bakura's breathing was reaching a ridiculously fast pace, short and sharp and shallow, every five breaths or so punctuated by a scream. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes faster than they could pour down his marred face.
After what seemed like an eternity, the child's breathing slowed to a more reasonable pace, though the tears kept coming as fast as ever.
The woman held the broken boy close, stroking his soft white hair comfortingly.
"There, there," she whispered. "It's alright. It's okay. it's all over."
Through the doorway, a middle-aged man came into the room, looking grumpy and tired.
"Hasina, what is the meaning of all this shouting? It's a wonder this kid hasn't woken up the whole kingdom by now."
Hasina smiled sadly. "Please, Asim. The child has been through a lot. Can't you see that he's injured? He looks awful."
Asim narrowed his eyes. "He looks like a demon, that's what he looks like."
"Asim, please…the child is not a demon-"
"With those purple eyes and that bright white hair? Sounds like a demon to me! I don't know how you talked me into letting you take him in!"
"He was dying, Asim, please, take some pity on him!"
Hasina took some clean white linen and wrapped the large ugly gash on Bakura's right cheek.
"It's a shame," she commented. "That will definitely leave a scar. It's too bad. You're so handsome otherwise…"
Hasina took a soft brown blanket and wrapped him up in its warmth, picking him up and setting him on an even softer cushion.
Her husband watched it all in silent disdain, mingled with the pity that his wife had pled for so fervently.
"Sleep now, child," she commanded gently, standing up and walking out of the room.
Bakura could hear the couple arguing just a small distance away.
"We should not keep him here," Asim said angrily.
"For so many years, haven't we prayed for the gods to give us a child?"
"Maybe this boy is the answer to our prayers!"
"More like a curse."
"He is helpless, Asim. He is injured. He is weak. How can you call an innocent child a curse?"
They spoke many more words, none of which Bakura heard. He simply let himself cry some more, but silently this time, and, ever so slowly, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, plagued by the fires and the screams of his friends and his family.
…I am alone, The boy thought, watching as the sun began to slowly light up the sky. Everything I had…everyone I knew…they're all gone now.
It's all his fault! He destroyed my village! He took it all away from me!
He smirked weakly.
Well then. I guess I'll just have to pay him back, won't I? After all, it's only fair. I he was in my position, would he do the same thing? Sure- there's not a doubt in my mind.
Let's just say that he has just made himself a very dangerous enemy.
The child curled his hands into fists, trembling with rage.
As soon as I'm old enough…as soon as I'm strong enough…I will have my revenge!
He pulled the blanket tighter around himself, still shaking. Oh, how he hated him.
Oh, how he was going to pay.
A thousand twisted thoughts ran through Bakura's mind that night, each more devious and wicked than the last.
Oh, he will pay, Bakura thought. He will pay dearly.
Reviews and concrit are welcome :D