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Every evening, long after Ra’s light faded from the sky, a little mouse crept out of the palace.
Bakura wasn't sure whether they were trying to be discreet because, if so, they were doing a terrible job. One would think someone who was where they shouldn't be would at least try to blend in, but between their jewellery and well-tailored clothes, it was impossible to clock this fool as anything other than a noble. Even the hooded cloak they wore to hide their face was made from a fine material that most commoners would rarely see, much less own.
He ignored them at first, figuring they were simply another privileged brat sneaking away to grab a drink at the local tavern. While Bakura hadn't sampled the royal stock in ages, he was willing to bet a finger that it was practically water compared to what they served in town.
The thought of leaving their severed head on the palace steps had also crossed his mind, but for all he knew, this mouse was simply a disposable doll in the Pharaoh's harem. If he was going to get his hands dirty, he wanted to make sure his efforts went towards someone that actually mattered.
Ultimately, what piqued his interest was an offhand comment from one of the street urchins roaming the marketplace.
'I can't believe you already ate all the dried meat! You know Mau only ever has that stuff twice a season!'
Bakura grabbed the kid before they ducked into the crowd, demanding to know how they’d gotten their grubby paws on dried meat when even basic bread was getting hard to come by. Thanks in no small part to his intimidating appearance (especially to a seven-year-old), it didn't take long for them to squeal; however, their answers only left him with more questions.
‘Mau’ was apparently how they referred to 'the fancy man’ who came to feed the cats every night, and he always seemed to ‘lose’ a basket of food on his way. Bakura had a hard time believing anyone from the palace would waste their time sneaking out just to play with strays. Was this little mouse trying to stick its nose where it didn't belong?
Determined to put a stop to anything that might sabotage his plans, Bakura began following Mau on his nightly walks, keeping a watchful eye for any suspicious behaviour.
...Which was difficult, considering nothing he did made the slightest bit of sense.
This man was odd, to say the least. All sense of caution left his body once he was far enough from the palace, leaving Bakura to shadow someone simply taking a leisurely stroll in the moonlight. He had no idea how this idiot managed to evade being robbed at every turn; either the thieves in this area were woefully incompetent, or Mau's 'lost' food was meant to be some sort of peace offering.
Even stranger than his complete lack of urgency was the fact that everything the street brat had said about him was true.
For the first few nights, Bakura trailed him with dagger in hand, making a point to stay far enough to avoid being seen, but close enough to dispose of Mau the moment he wandered anywhere he wasn't supposed to.
Except, that never happened.
Instead of secret meetings or forbidden trystes, Mau spent his nights tending to a colony of cats that congregated by an old pottery shop. The (un?)fortunate target of his fussiness was a very young and very pregnant female who always waddled towards the clearing long after the food had been devoured.
Luckily, Mau kept a separate satchel of offal just for her, a small detail Bakura reluctantly gave him credit for. To humans, especially those of a certain social standing, organ meat was far from appetising; however, the additional nutrients would be invaluable to an expectant mother.
Maybe this mouse wasn't as clueless as he thought.
The kittens were born roughly ten days after he began tailing Mau and, although Bakura had yet to see the face beneath the cloak, it was clear from his body language that Mau was beside himself with relief.
There were seven to start, but only five made it past the first night, a sobering reality that made the young noble even more determined to keep the remaining fluffballs alive.
Mau’s earnesty was as infectious as it was amusing. He spoke to the cats like they were human, often chatting about the minutiae of his day and the things he had planned for the day after. The longer Bakura observed him, the clearer it became that 'Mau' was…incredibly lonely.
Behaviour that Bakura initially viewed as suspicious became increasingly endearing, though he couldn't begin to explain why. He even started checking on the cats once or twice throughout the day, just to make sure all the food and blankets Mau brought from the palace were being put to good use.
Despite his growing attachment to the kittens, it would be a lie to say that they were the only reason he continued to shadow Mau every night. Spying on the noble became the only enjoyable part of his evening routine — it was a welcome break from the research and planning he'd done in preparation for his throne room 'debut'. Bakura idly wondered if Mau would be part of his audience on that day, and whether he'd even be able to recognise him without his hood. What would he do if it turned out Mau was the Pharaoh himself?
After his invasion of the palace, Bakura feared this might be the case.
Mau hadn't shown up that night, nor any of the nights that followed. There were more than enough reasonable explanations for this, but Bakura's mind kept circling back to the worst possible outcomes.
Was Mau the Pharaoh? One of the high priests? Had he been crushed by a column during their battle? Something must have happened to him; people didn't just disappear without reason.
He was ready to accept that Mau had given up the ghost when he overheard a curious conversation near the palace stables.
‘You know those thieves they caught at the granary this morning? Apparently they’ve already been judged and sentenced. Crazy, right?’
‘Eh, makes sense. I bet that attack on the palace has all the priests on their toes.’
‘Especially that hardass Set. He's probably looking for any excuse to get his hands on some stronger ka.’
‘Definitely wouldn’t put it past him.’
Bakura frowned. Caught, judged, and sentenced on the same day? He must have rattled them hard — it sounded like the priests were trying to bulk up their forces with whatever ka they could get. Unfortunately, to those self-righteous fools, nothing made for better fodder than a thief.
How shameless.
That night, he scoured the area for a different vantage point, hoping to witness the court's new 'justice' system for himself. Diabound's freshly bestowed gift of invisibility was a blessing in these situations as it made sneaking onto the palace grounds laughably easy.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted them.
After seven days of absence, Mau finally decided to make an appearance. Bakura would have been irritated if he weren't so relieved the idiot was alive. Figuring the Pharaoh and his pawns would still be committing their atrocities tomorrow, he decided to shift his focus onto something that wouldn’t fill him with murderous rage.
…Well, more than he already was, anyway.
Once Mau managed to slip away, Bakura tracked him from the rooftops, noting his soon to be ‘lost’ bundle of food was even larger than usual. There was also a small sheath tied to his belt which, coupled with his guarded demeanour and more purposeful pace, confirmed Bakura's theory that fear had been the primary cause for his absence.
But there was something else different about him, something Bakura couldn't quite put into words.
Mau’s sprint slowed to a stop when they arrived at the pottery shop. The cats quietly poured into the street, gathering around his legs and gently scolding him for disappearing on them without notice. Mau allowed his bag to fall from his shoulders, looking around while wandering towards the empty building.
Bakura watched in amusement as the cats mobbed the fallen bag and eagerly devoured its contents. Even the five kittens had joined the fray, having grown from squeaky furballs into awkward, lanky gremlins.
It was then that Bakura came to the realisation that, although all the kittens were accounted for, their mother was nowhere to be seen.
Eyes wide, his attention snapped back to Mau, who was now kneeling next to a large barrel, his hands clenched and shaking atop his knees. Bakura didn't need to see what was behind it to put two and two together.
He leapt from the shop's low overhang and carefully stepped around the swarm of cats, his footfalls muted by the windswept sands.
Mau's head was bowed, his face shadowed by the cloak's heavy hood. He whispered something Bakura couldn't understand, his voice quivering almost as badly as his frame. Was it an apology? A prayer perhaps? He was so used to thinking of Mau as an absent-minded, yet well-meaning airhead that seeing this side of him felt strangely intrusive.
Bakura hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten until he heard the crunch of discarded pottery beneath his heel and found himself staring down the pointed end of a dagger.
Or rather, its wielder.
Bakura hadn't really given much thought to what Mau might look like without his cloak. In fact, based purely on his nickname, he'd taken to imagining him as a human-sized, bipedal cat with an affinity for birds and shiny things.
So, imagine his complete shock upon discovering that the noble was genuinely stunning.
Mau's tear-streaked face was framed by layers of flaxen hair, his visage vaguely reminiscent of the Pharaoh's high priestess. His figure was slight and he looked considerably younger than Bakura had expected, though that could easily be attributed to a life indoors, hidden away from the ageing forces of hard labour and sunlight.
But what struck Bakura most about his appearance were his eyes. They bore the same hue as the sky during the fleeting moments between night and day — a soft, pale purple that put the petals of the coveted blue lotus to shame. Heavy lines of black kohl added a sharpness to his otherwise delicate features, the distinct markings of a ranked mage painted along his cheekbones.
In short, Mau was drop dead gorgeous and Bakura was five seconds away from dropping dead.
However, those five seconds grew to ten, then twenty, and by thirty Bakura was starting to wonder if Mau was secretly slavering over him as well. Scars, scowls, and stench aside, Bakura honestly thought he was quite the catch.
It wasn’t until Mau’s expression turned from cautious to confused that he realised what was happening.
Diabound’s powers were still in effect.
Mau couldn’t see him at all.
The blond slowly lowered his weapon, scanning the area for any signs of an unwanted visitor. Bakura held still as Mau unknowingly drew closer, now more curious than bemused. Eventually, he let out a sigh of relief, chuckling quietly to himself as he rested an open palm against his chest.
Bakura's own breath caught in his throat when Mau turned to him again, a faint smile tracing his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked upon him without scorn or derision, and although he knew Mau had no idea he was there, there was a gentleness in his gaze that filled Bakura with a warmth he hadn’t felt in ages.
They were so close now. Would it really be that terrible to reach out and—
The thunderous beat of hooves prevented Bakura from blowing his cover.
He fell back, a sharp ache gripping his chest as Mau's short-lived relief was swiftly replaced with panic. While Bakura retreated into the shadows, Mau threw on his hood and fled towards the town square, a handful of stray cats running alongside him.
It seemed the palace guards had finally taken notice of his late night walks.
Bakura eased himself into one of the shop's open windows, narrowly avoiding getting trampled by a pair of massive horses. He sat with his knees drawn to his chest, waiting patiently for things to die down before making his escape. Amidst the cacophony of noise surrounding him, he could hear the guards calling for someone named 'Malik'.
By the time Bakura emerged from the building, the stars had already begun to disappear.
He searched for any sign of Mau, spotting his dagger’s sheath poking out of a small mound of sand. Bakura picked it up and ran his sleeve over its surface, taking a moment to admire its craftsmanship before slipping it into his pocket. This would be the first, and with any luck, the only time he would bother returning a lost item to its owner.
Unfortunately, Bakura would never get the chance. Unbeknownst to him, that night was the last time he would ever see ‘Mau’ again.
At least, in that lifetime.