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Tailored to You

Chapter 7: Extra Chapter: Bakura's Past

Notes:

I had a lot of fun playing with Bakura's character in this story and after finishing the story I had some other scenes in my mind that I thought might be worth sharing.
And I totally blame Sita for the "nice old ladies who help Bakura getting back on track" headcanon XDDD

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Extra Chapter: Bakura’s past

Bakura was stalking through the aisles of the supermarket, a scrawny kid just over sixteen with wild hair in all colours of the rainbow. His fist opened and closed in the (still) empty pocket of his jacket. He licked his lip as he looked around and made sure none of the surveillance cameras caught him.

After escaping from their latest foster family together with Amir, they didn't have any money left.They’d been living on the streets for months already, barely getting by and Bakura knew that if they wanted to eat something tonight, he’d have to steal one or two things from the supermarket shelves yet again.

Security was nowhere to be seen, so Bakura took the chance to let several candy bars vanish into his sleeve. They were small and easy to hide after all. The cups of instant noodles were harder to hide, but he had borrowed Amir’s jacket which was extra baggy on him, so that should work. He was just about to round the corner when he collided with the security man he’d been trying so hard to avoid. One cup of ramen fell out of his too wide jacket, clattered to the floor where it broke and spilled.

Bakura cursed under his breath as he spun around and dashed to the exit, trying to make a fast escape. Unfortunately for him, a second security guard stopped him right in front of the door.

Thrashing the guards with his hands and feet and yelling insults at his captors, he was dragged towards the office, certainly for the shop manager to call the police on him.

“There you are!” A soft voice suddenly called and an elderly lady appeared next to them. She turned her gaze towards the guards. “You must apologize my grandson’s behaviour. He’s a little difficult sometimes. Is it possible to sort things out if I just pay the bill for the things he took?”

Bakura looked from the old woman to the guards and back again. Grandson? Who the hell was that old hag? But she offered to pay and get him out of trouble, so it was worth to play along. “Grandma! There you are! I couldn’t find you anymore and I didn’t have any money on me and I was just sooo hungry!” He put on the best puppy face he could muster and it seemed to work. They let him go as long as ‘grandma’ covered all expenses.

Carrying a paper bag with groceries, Bakura trailed after her out of the shop. His expression turned into a scowl the moment they were out of the guard’s sight. “What the hell was that about? I don’t even know you!”

The old woman chuckled. “You looked like you could need some kindness in your life, son.”

Bakura just snorted. “Yeah, right. What do you want in return? Nothing comes for free in life.”

“I believe that kindness is best repaid with kindness, son.” The woman mused, her brows furrowed slightly. “There’s nothing I want in return.”

The teenager huffed and turned on his heel. He didn’t trust her words one bit. “Well, if that’s the case I don’t need to stick around any longer. See ya, granny.”

‘Grandma’ stopped as well and watched him over her shoulder. “However, I do have a proposition to make.”

Bakura rolled his eyes. Alright, here it comes. Nothing was for free after all. “What could you possibly offer that would be of any interest for me?”

The elder turned to him. “I watched you in the shop. You’ve got quite the fast hands. Very dexterous. I could use someone like you.”

Disgusted, Bakura scrunched up his nose and prepared to run. “EW! I’m not one of those boys, you old hag!”

The woman burst into laughter. “Not like that, son, not like that.” She wiped tears of laughter out of her eyes. “I have a tailor shop in town, but I’m getting old and my stiff fingers hurt. I’m looking for an apprentice to relieve me of some work in the shop. Of course I’d pay you.”

Now it was Bakura’s turn to burst into laughter. “Do I look like someone who spends his time stitching little roses on stupid dresses?” He waved at her. “Goodbye, granny, and good luck on your search. Maybe you’ll have more luck when looking for actually decent people to help you.”

“Decent people are easy to find; however, skilled people are not!” She called after him.

--

Two weeks later, Bakura found himself scouting out every tailor shop in town. The cold season had just started now and getting by on the street was hard. Out in the rain, Amir had caught a bad cold that could turn into pneumonia if untreated. Bakura grit his teeth. Without money to buy some decent medication... no, he didn't even want to think about it.

He was a good pick-pocket, but his loot hadn't been enough and sometimes he'd spent hours just observing and trailing new victims. All consuming time which he didn't have now. If he wanted to get by, he'd need a job with real pay, maybe a health insurance even. No one would ever be willing to give a punk from the street any work and yet the old hag had presented it to him on a sliver plate. He’d be stupid to refuse her offer in the current situation.

Eventually, Bakura spotted the old witch through the window of a tailor shop for custom made dresses for all occasions. The boy grimaced and turned around. No, that was certainly not for him. He was about to leave when the door opened and the old hag greeted him with a warm smile.

Bakura shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced to the side. “So… about that job offer… I might need some money after all.”

The pay of the first week had been enough to take Amir to a doctor and get him the treatment he needed.

--

For the first few weeks, they started with learning the basics. The old woman had invited him to her atelier after the shop was closed and together they’d work on new creations. The tailor would show him how things were done and when her fingers tired too much, she’d let him continue under her supervision.

He got his first own little projects after two months and after half a year, granny said she’d want him in the shop during the opening hours as well, so he’d learn how to handle the customers, take their measurements, and translate them into the cutting patterns as well.

“You’ll need to represent the shop, son,” she told him. “So, you need to look representable. You’ll need some business clothes.”

Bakura scrunched up his nose again as he looked down himself, worn out jeans with holes and a dirty red hoodie. “And where would I get the money to pay those clothes? Your pay is just enough to afford a roof over my head.”

The woman smiled warmly and gestured to the wall of fabrics behind her. “So? Then make yourself some. You’re free to use whatever I have here and in a week I want to see what you have made.”

--

Bakura was torn between making things right and fucking things up. Old grandma had been so nice to him over the past few months and it was thanks to her small pay that Bakura and Amir wouldn’t need to live on the street anymore. He wanted to make things right for her and he didn’t want to ruin her shop by scaring off her customers. But at the same time, he was boiling on the inside for being told by society’s fucked up standards what he had to wear, how he had to look like, how he had to act, what was decent, and what was not. He didn’t want anyone to tell him how to dress and he wanted to give a big FUCK YOU to the very same society that had fucked his life over several times already.

He’d made up his mind. He grabbed some fabric and started to sew.

--

Bakura did a mocking bow towards his elder when he presented his creation. “So, what do you say, old hag? Do I meet your standards?”

The woman adjusted the glasses on her nose as she circled around him and took a closer look.

Bakura chuckled and leisurely placed a hand on his hip. His lips curled up in one of his shiteating grins that appeared whenever he could successfully piss someone off. “So? I’m waiting for your judgement,” he sing-songed as he spun around to make his skirt billow around him. Instead of crafting himself a fancy suit, he’d made himself a knee-long skirt and a blouse with ruffles, certainly elegant but not something granny had expected of him.

The woman circled around him again before she nodded. “Good job.”

Dumbfounded Bakura stared at her. “Well. That’s new.”

Grandma chuckled. “What’s new?”

Bakura still blinked at her in surprise. “Being praised for fucking with society rules.”

“Well, it certainly is unconventional.” She tilted her head from side to side. “But it’s nice and it suits you. Some of the edges might still be a little rough, but that’s something we can work on together and I can show you how to hide the seams better next time. Aside from that, good job, my child.” She smiled at him.

“Aren’t you mad at me or something?” Bakura raised his brows, still in disbelief.

“Do you like yourself looking like this?” The woman tilted her head as she watched him.

Bakura looked down himself. “Uh… yeah, I guess? At least it looked right when I made. It’s comfortable and oh my god, the skirt gives me so much leg freedom, I love it.”

Laughing softly, the woman patted his shoulder. “I gave you a task and you fulfilled that task. I told you to make an outfit suited for business and that’s what you did. And you did even more. Instead of going for the obvious, you added your own personality to it. You’re a free spirit and you have the mind of an artist. I would be a fool to discourage that.”

“I…” Bakura hesitated and then bowed to his elder, sincerely this time. “Thank you, grandma.”

The woman placed an arm around his shoulders. “But just between you and me. Those boots look horrible with the rest of the outfit.”

The teen looked at himself, down his pretty new outfit and to the old worn out boots. He burst into laughter. “They do, don’t they.” He blinked in surprise when he felt several bank notes being shoved into his hand. “What’s this for?”

Granny patted his shoulder again. “Go get yourself some new shoes in the shop around the corner. I’m sure they have something nice for you, child.”

Bakura looked at the money and then beamed at his tutor. “Will do!”

Just a few months ago, he’d just have taken the money and bailed. But for the first time in years, he had a good future in sight and he didn’t want to lose that.

“Here’s the rest of the money,” he said as he returned and tossed the change on the counter.

“Oh? I thought you’d keep the change.”

“I’m not stealing anymore, granny. At least not from you or your customers.”

--

Years passed and Bakura proved to be living up to the old tailor’s expectations. He was skilled with his hands and had a good eye for details and shapes. By now, he had already finished many creations on his own. The road hadn’t always been easy and he’d made many mistakes, but granny had been patient with him until the very end.

Bakura stuck his tongue out between his lips and toyed with his piercing as he concentrated hard on his work. With a magnifier and tweezers, he placed the last rhinestone on the stark white dress.

He let out a sigh of relief and took a few steps back from the finished gown. Gloriously, it sat on the mannequin right next to the matching tuxedo.

“I can’t believe it’s done.” Bakura muttered. It was the dress he needed to get the last official certificate announcing him a master of his craftsmanship. His literal masterpiece into which he had poured his heart and soul.

Feet shuffled over the ground behind him and grandma appeared by his side. “It’s beautiful, my child. You’ll look marvellous in it at the wedding.”

Bakura sniffed. Stupid him, why was he getting all sentimental now? He pretended to have gotten something in his eye, but he knew he couldn’t fool his mentor. “I’m looking forward to it, granny.” He bit his lip as concern showed on his face. “However, I’ve been wondering… Can I continue working for you after I got my certificate? I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Granny sighed and walked over to a nearby chair, already exhausted from standing for too long. “My dear child. I’m old and my old bones are too tired to keep running this shop. I have no energy left to continue anymore.”

Sadly, Bakura watched her. “I see. I’ll have to look out for something new then.”

The old woman coughed. “However, I’d be really sad to see my tailor shop close down. I’ve spent so many years to build it up. It’d be a shame if there was no one to run it after I retire, wouldn’t it?”

“You want me to continue on my own?” Bakura asked surprised. He was good at his job, but at just 21 he felt too young and inexperienced to run it without guidance.

“I know you’ll do a good job on it, my child. The shop’ll be in good hands.”

Notes:

Alright guys. This is it. That's the end and the fic is completed. Thank you so much for sticking around until the end <3