Chapter Text
…
Bakura managed to pin Mariku to the ground, pressing Mariku’s own cane against his throat. He grinned and managed to laugh a little.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day,” He said, drool dripping down his chin as he panted and caught his breath. Mariku could only gasp and sputter for air. Bakura wanted to make sure he got every last word in, for the last time they fought, he was cut off. Quite literally.
“After all these years, you haven’t changed one fucking bit. You have no fucking remorse or even a thought for anyone but yourself. I would have shared that title with you, you bastard.” Bakura threw a punch, colliding his fist into Mariku’s eye. “But no. You need power. You need power just as much as I do, only you were never willing to share it.”
Bakura moved, getting ready to punch Mariku again, only the latter mustered up enough strength to throw Bakura off his body and flip their positions.
“Sharing power is foolish.” Mariku grabbed Bakura’s face, his fingers squeezing and digging into the pale skin. “Kings don’t share power, and neither do captains.” Bakura spit on him, then, perhaps an attempt to regain lost dignity.
The struggle for power between them was rooted deep. Their pride and hate had festered and grown into some mutated, unspoken energy ball of anger. Especially for Bakura.
Not that he was thinking about it while he fought for the upper hand, but Bakura had often dwelled on the night Mariku betrayed him. It should have been expected, but to him it was not. He genuinely thought he and Mariku were close-- Almost like brothers, and maybe even a little more than that. Bakura had a craving and desire for power and control just as much as Mariku did, but he would never kill a friend for it. Which often led Bakura to another thought. Would Mariku have actually killed him? He had jumped that night. When the ship rocked, and the wave crashed, Bakura jumped. His defenses did the thinking for him, because he truly believed it was kill or be killed.
When he washed up on shore, Bakura was surprised he was alive. Sand stuck to his open wound and the scent of blood was overwhelming. The scar on his face was one thing, but blatant betrayal was another.
It was almost like a flashback, only instead of memories, the feelings and emotions Bakura felt the day after the incident all came flooding back to him while he fought Mariku. It was as if his brain needed to rationalize fighting the man, to be reminded of the reason. “If you’re going to kill me,” Bakura hissed, his teeth clenched, his body ceasing to move. There was no point anymore. Nobody was going to get what they wanted. “At least finish the job. Do it fucking right.”
Mariku’s grip on the other’s face lessened in the slightest, and he narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t deserve to survive that fall.” With the other hand, Mariku ripped Bakura’s eyepatch off his face, revealing the bumpy, jagged mess of skin that formed a scar down the side of his face. “You should have stayed in the water. That’s where you-”
“Where I what?” Bakura, flashing with a new wave of anger raised his voice and, with the strength the rage gave him, found his way to jab his hand at Mariku’s wounded thigh, taking advantage of the distraction and managing to switch their positions once again. Bakura was on top of Mariku, and he pinned the others arms down to the floor firmly. “Where I belong? Guess what, old friend.” He leaned in close, touching their foreheads together. His voice lowered into an angry, raspy whisper. “I’m still fucking here. I’m here and living every day hating your fucking guts.”
Bakura kneed Mariku in the groin, enjoying the pained moan that seemed to echo in what seemed like an empty room. Even though they were in a cavern, the space between them felt so small. It felt like they had transported into a tiny room, just big enough to fit both of them. Bakura didn’t need any other space than that.
“You self indulgent, ass-kissing, shit-eating freak.” Each insult was spat with more solace than the last. His language was slow, calculated, and Bakura wanted it to last as long as possible. It seemed Mariku had given up, but Bakura was just getting started. “You owe me so much, you know that? All I did for you was help. All I did was pick you up, but you know what you did?” Bakura released one of Mariku’s wrists, pressing a thumb to the left side of Mariku’s forehead just above the eyebrow, dragging it down the rest of his face with firm pressure. “You tried to kill me. Tried to cut me off.”
“Bakura-”
“No!” Bakura placed his hand over Mariku’s mouth, securing his head in place when he saw it turn to the left. As if Mariku was going to pay attention to something else. Not now. “I should have just killed you the moment I set foot on your ship.” He frowned when Mariku started to struggle again, forming incoherent words behind his hand. “You’re going to fucking listen to me now. You don’t have-”
Mariku, with what felt like the last of his energy, wrenched his face away and managed to shove Bakura back. “Bakura! The statues!”
Confused for a moment, Bakura looked behind himself, but what he saw made him forget all about his hatred for Mariku. His eyes transfixed on Ryou, and he felt his body flash hot again. Ryou should have been dead by now. Bakura should have beat Mariku to all of the glory, but that scrawny brat got in the way. Both of them did.
He hated the way Ryou thought about Malik. It reminded Bakura too much of himself early on, the way he wanted to believe Mariku meant well in some strange kind of way, but it wasn’t the truth. It bothered Bakura that Ryou never let himself hate. He came close, but it wasn’t real.
On top of all that, Ryou ruined years of hard work. Months of planning, weeks of manipulation- All gone to waste. If anyone needed to die today, it was Ryou.
However, in that moment of spotting Ryou, Bakura saw a chain reaction of events. He saw Ryou and Malik running to the exit, and he saw dust. He heard loud rumblings, the sound of rocks falling. The ground started to shake as the huge stone statues encircling the cavern began to fall on top of one another in a domino effect. The flames from the torches began to glow behind a curtain of dirt and rubble. Bakura’s response was delayed, partially from anger, partially from shock. Everything that could have gone wrong on this long awaited day had done just that; Gone wrong.
“That fucking-” Bakura quickly got off of Mariku and ran for the exit where Ryou and Malik were headed. “Where will you go?!” Bakura shouted, nearly straining his voice to make sure the two could hear him over the loud, overwhelming crumbling and falling. As he gained on Ryou and Malik, close enough that he might have been able to leap forward and tackle one of them, a large rock fell from above, landing right in front of Bakura, ceasing his sprint. His boots scraped along the rock beneath him as friction caused him to slide, his hands waving away and lungs coughing out the dust that filled the air in front of him. Then, having been triggered by the falling stone, the statue near the exit- the only exit- wobbled.
Bakura held his breath as he watched it begin to tip over. He could still see Malik and Ryou running if he peeked over the stone that obstructed his path. Stepping back, Bakura decided to brace himself for the inevitable impact that would come with the statue’s downfall.
He stood, squinting as the rock crumbled before him. He covered his eyes when more debris and dust swarmed the air. It was quiet once the rocks settled into place, and the flames from the torches had been snuffed out, smothered by the thickened, dirty air. When Bakura opened his eyes, the sunlight from the hole at the top of the cavern shown on the table, just as it had before, only this time that was not the subject of Bakura’s attention. The exit was blocked. Large, heavy blocks of stone from the ancient statues littered not only the entrance/exit of the cave, but all around them, making the cavern look a little smaller than it had when he entered.
“Fuck,” He mumbled to himself. Bakura turned around, gaze landing on Mariku. He was standing now and rubbing his thigh, looking just as pissed and confused as Bakura.
“We have to get out of here.”
…
Ryou ran as fast as he ever had in his life. He didn’t even realize that he’d surpassed Malik in the midst of chaos for he was only focused on the daylight he could see at the end of the long tunnel.
“Ryou!” Malik called out, “Ryou! Wait up!”
Ryou stopped, turning around and expecting to see Malik right there, only he didn’t. Malik appeared a few seconds after, catching up to Ryou. Once he did, the two continued to run, wishing to be free of the cave and all the tension and fear within it.
Ryou glanced over his shoulder, frowning. They hadn’t just killed two people, had they? Did Bakura get crushed? Will Mariku and Bakura be able to get out?
Of course, Ryou knew that both he and Malik had been used in some way, and perhaps he shouldn’t care about the two captains’ well-being that much, but that wasn’t the kind of person Ryou was. He cared. Unlike Bakura, Ryou didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. His eyes shifted from the view ahead to Malik. He felt, among all of the excitement, fear, and adrenaline, embarrassed and guilty. Ryou had been controlled like a puppet on a string, led down a long, bottomless pit of hatred. The only problem with Bakura’s plan was Ryou didn’t hate Malik. He never did. How could he? The guilt Ryou felt came from a place of empathy. In a way, he ended up doing the exact same thing Malik had done to him: let his pride get to his head, and abandoned a friend in time of need.
Malik had asked Ryou to come back multiple times. While he might not have worded things as well as he could have, Ryou knew what it all meant. Malik wanted his friend back just as much as Ryou did. The concept of having power over someone appealed to Ryou so much, but looking back on it, even while he was running away from danger, he thought it silly.
Bakura and Mariku; Ryou didn’t know much about them or their relationship other than what Bakura had told him. There was one thing Ryou could tell though, even back when they had first interacted on the ship to come up with this ‘game’: If Bakura and Mariku really hated each other, one of them would be dead by now. Perhaps they had their issues, they had developed a disliking for the other’s presence, but Ryou was certain there was no true hate there. They were both capable of murder, seeing as they were both very willing to kill off, in their eyes, lesser individuals, so why had they not turned these capabilities on each other? As Ryou ran further and further away from them, headed for the daylight, he smiled.
After what seemed like the longest run of his life, Ryou stopped a few feet away from the mouth of the cave, leaning on a tree to catch his breath. Malik did the same. They panted, staring at the ground in disbelief. Neither of them should have been alive, yet here they were.
“Malik.” Ryou’s eyes switched their gaze from the ground to Malik. He laughed as best he could with his lungs still attempting to recover from the sprint. “You’re so good at sword-fighting.”
Malik looked back at Ryou, unable to contain his own laughter. The giddy feeling in his chest was probably a nervous reaction, but he decided that it felt the same as it always had when being with Ryou. It almost felt like nothing had ever happened between them. “You think? You totally kicked ass when you broke that bottle.” He coughed. “What was in that anyway?”
Still catching his breath, Ryou held up his bandaged hand. “Blood.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll explain later.” Looking over his shoulder, Ryou recognized the mouth of the cave as the last thing he remembered before waking up inside of it. Interesting how things seem to have concluded. Ryou frowned then. “Um, Malik? Did we… You don’t think they’re dead, do you?”
When Ryou looked at Malik again, he could tell he thought the same thing. Malik mirrored his frown, biting his lip. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out.” His brow furrowed at the thought of it. Frankly, he didn’t want to kill Mariku. Bakura, maybe, but Mariku was different. “The statues were around the outskirts of the room. If they work together, they’ll be able to get out through the top.” Malik cracked a small smile then, for imagining the two working together was laughable considering the entire reason why they were all in this situation was built on the fact that Bakura hated Mariku’s guts and vice versa. Maybe they could, but Malik didn’t see it as likely. Regardless, the only thing he was really worried about at the moment was Ryou’s safety. “I don’t really want to be here if they do, though.”
Ryou nodded in agreement, pushing himself off the tree despite wanting to slide down and take a seat. “Yeah. Let’s find somewhere far away to rest, and we’ll plan it from there.” Without hesitation, Ryou started to run again. He would be proud of himself later, but for now he knew it best to get as far away from this cave as fast as possible.
“Ryou, wait.” Malik kept with Ryou’s pace, scanning the area in front of them and glancing left and right. “Be careful. Everyone is looking for you. Keep an eye out.”
With a nod, Ryou kept his eyes open for any other familiar faces, though he wasn’t exactly thinking about where he was going. Nor was Malik for that matter. The size of the island and the depth of the forest never crossed their minds. They performed instinctually, running away from danger when they weren’t in a place to fight back. Eventually, they began to slow their pace, but neither of them stopped. Coincidentally, they were both thinking.
Thinking about each other.
Ryou turned around, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked out over the land they had trekked over. He didn’t know how far they went, but it felt long. They’d stopped running a little while ago and settled for a brisk walk. Neither said a word to each other, and Ryou felt that maybe now it would be okay. “Do you think we’re far? The sun went down quite a bit. How long have we been moving?”
Malik shrugged. He gently grabbed a hold of Ryou’s arm and pulled him over to a group of rocks. A small stream ran through the cracks of the rocks, flowing through a narrow passage in the ground. Malik sat them down next to it, letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Don’t know. We should drink some water, though.”
Ryou followed Malik’s example and cupped his hands in the water to drink it. It felt good to swallow something cool to contrast the heat and sweat drenching his body. When he felt hydrated, Ryou leaned back against the rocks, closing his eyes as he allowed his body to rest. After the adrenaline faded away, and his sense of security returned, Ryou’s entire body felt heavy. Running again would not be an option, but he didn’t think that would be necessary for now. He opened his eyes when he felt Malik’s shoulder brush against his own.
“Sorry I was a jerk,” Malik murmured, looking up at the clouds passing in the sky. “I don’t even feel right saying that. It isn’t going to fix anything, I know. I just don’t know how to make it better. I don’t-”
Ryou placed a hand on Malik’s shoulder, cutting him off. “Malik, you don’t need to say anything. I shouldn’t have acted so..” He paused, mulling over their encounters and his own reactions. Ryou frowned. “I shouldn’t have acted like everything was fine. From the very beginning I kept things from you, and I think both of us just sort of played into the fantasy that we were more than…”
Ryou trailed off, but Malik knew what he meant.
“That we were more than what we’re worth?” Malik looked at Ryou, and they exchanged similar forced smiles. Malik couldn’t help but chuckle when he thought about it. That part was very true. He knew it true for himself, at least. Mariku had been about the only person in his life that told him he was capable of great things. That is, the only other person beside Ryou. It felt different having heard it from someone else. Sad to say, but it felt real hearing it from someone besides his best friend.
“I don’t think we should see it that way, though.” Malik shifted so that he was facing Ryou, looking over his sweaty, dirty face with admiration. Ryou’s hair was stuck to his cheek, and beads of sweat dripped off his jawline. “I think, if anything, this was our chance to show that we are capable of being brave, strong, and I guess even scared. It wasn’t a fantasy, Ryou.” Malik smiled, his grin lopsided and tired. “It was real life. And I think we both awakened a piece of ourselves that we didn’t know existed.”
Ryou laughed, perhaps because it was rather hard to believe that everything that happened was real. But Malik was right. It happened. All of it happened, and now they were left to do with it what they wanted. “Yeah. I suppose that’s true.” The dampness on his neck was too much then, and Ryou pulled his hair back, wishing he had something to tie it with, but came up short with any makeshift ideas.
Malik took notice of the bandage on his hand, and pointed to it.
“So, are you going to explain this to me? In fact, do you have any idea what all of this was about?”
Ryou looked at his hand as if he were surprised to see a bandage there. He had forgotten all about it, but a brief glimpse of Bakura’s enraged face flashed in his mind, causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise. He’d never forget that look-- The pure look of hatred. Bakura might not have hated Mariku, but Ryou was damn sure he was top of Bakura’s hate list now. “Well…” He began, looking guilty. It was very naive of him to think Bakura would keep all his promises, and it was embarrassing to have to talk about it, but Ryou knew that he owed Malik at least an explanation.
“I made a blood pact. Kind of. But I guess I sort of broke it.”
Malik blinked. “What?”
Ryou smiled at him and pat his leg twice. “It’s a very long story. I’ll tell you on the way.” He stood up, holding a hand out to help Malik get back on his feet.
“Wait-Where are we going?”
“We’re taking a rowboat. I decided that while we were running here. It’ll be easy to sneak one. And, I mean, you still have your map, right?” Ryou smiled. They were face to face now, and Ryou still held on to Malik’s hand, holding it firmly.
“What do you say, Malik? Are you up for a little adventure?”
…
Ryou and Malik rowed away from the strange island, following the map Malik had kept in his pocket. They never really admitted it, but both Ryou and Malik enjoyed, to some degree, being able to experience the thrill of a real pirate rivalry.
Though, there were two men that would be sure it wouldn’t be their last.
As Ryou and Malik rowed away, a pale, skinny hand decorated with bracelets and rings clawed at rock. Bakura hoisted himself up out of the hole and held out a hand for Mariku to follow. In order to fit through the hole in the cave ceiling, both men had to discard their captain hats and coats quite begrudgingly. It hadn’t been easy, and it took them as long as it took Malik and Ryou to leave, but Bakura and Mariku managed to talk out a plan. They stacked rocks and used them as crooked, uneven stairs, stacking the broken pieces of statue just high enough to be able to jump and grasp the rock to escape. Bakura grunted as he pulled Mariku’s body weight, helping him wriggle out of the hole just as he had.
The two turned toward the sunset, squinting. The wind blew their hair back, for there were no more hats to hold it down. Bakura’s eyepatch remained discarded and left in the useless cave of statue rubble. The top of the cave was at the top of the waterfall, and Bakura saw that they could practically see the entire island from this vantage point. Mariku tapped his shoulder, pointing out into the distance to small figures in the water. “There they are,” He murmured, feeling as though if it was said any louder, the far away figures might have heard him.
Bakura took in a deep breath, slowly letting the air out his nose. He pulled out a map from his back pocket and handed it to Mariku. “We have the same map. They won’t get far.”
Mariku snorted. “I hope not. It took me years to find you. I’m not taking years to find a couple of brats.”
Bakura stared out at the horizon another moment longer. He took in the colors of the sky, the placement of the clouds, and the warmth the sea gave the breeze. It was all perfect. It should have been the perfect moment to claim life eternal, to have riches beyond what any man had ever possessed, but he didn’t. The day wasn’t perfect, the riches weren’t his, and, as Bakura’s eyes narrowed on the figures in the distance, he mentally painted a big red target on Malik and Ryou’s heads. They did this, and they weren’t going to get away with it.
“Come on,” He said, tearing his eyes away from the scenery. “Our rivalry won’t end as long as they’re alive.”
