Ryou was hardly there some days. He would walk in late to class and sometimes, just sometimes, even the teacher wouldn't notice. Ryou figured it was because of his long-perfected practice of "I'm harmless and pathetic, don't notice me" had come to his proverbial rescue.
But his real rescue proved to be the one hope he just couldn't kill all the way. He tried though. Oh! How he tried.
For the first few years, after his yami had turned all of his friends into dolls, leaving them to his care, he entertained the idea of running away, or being taken by his father to a far-off land.
As he collected more dolls, and he was forced deeper into his mind, he began to realize only he could get himself out of this. But every time he tried, he got more than the tongue-lashings he usually got…
He ran one day. Didn't even take clothes. After school he just… ran in the opposite direction of home, throwing the ring off and getting on the train.
He made it as far as the outer edge of Tokyo before the ring found him again, and he had had to explain to the school's social worker how he had gotten a broken arm, three bruised ribs, and a concussion.
"I fell down."
Not at all a good lie, but this was when he still held hope like one of his dolls, close to him.
When the social worker came to check on him, Ryou was faced with the care of another doll, and the further loss of his hopes.
-
"Kitten… Come out and play kitten…"
Ryou shuddered at the name. At first his name was "yadonoushi", landlord. But it soon became apparent who held the strings, and he was demoted. His spirit had looked down on him one day, scared and cowering before Bakura.
"You're so timid… like a skittish colt, or a rabbit."
His new name was rabbit for a long time… years possibly. Time moved strangely for Ryou Bakura. Hours and minutes were different from time-to-time, stretching impossibly long some nights, and flying by some weeks.
-
The next true death of his hope was when Yuugi and his gang of do-gooders had decided to befriend the lonely boy. He had tried, in a very inactive way, to get them to leave him be. He knew the Pharaoh would keep his hikari from being added to Ryou's collection of dolls, so he didn't actively discourage their attention.
He was a fool. Bakura found their snooping "disrespectful and disgusting." Ryou didn't see how it was any different that the spying his Yami would do on his victims. But then he realized it was the same thing, only this time HE was the victim.
Bakura had lifted his hand to Ryou once again. It was one of the few times Bakura had resorted to physical violence. At first he had thought he needed to prove dominance, and had beaten him to prove his point. But when he realized that his hikari was already broken and submissive, he had resorted to alienating him and belittling him with words.
His newest nickname had come from one of those times when Bakura felt it necessary to inflict violence on Ryou.
-
Just before the happenings of Battle City, Ryou had contemplated a move that was drastic, yet in his head he deemed necessary. He stood off of the Domino bridge, thinking about his death, and whether or not he would take Bakura to hell with him. Yuugi had happened to pass before Ryou could jump, saving Ryou, but ultimately breaking the boy.
That night Bakura had beaten him like never before. Not because Ryou was trying to be rid of him, not because Yuugi had found out, and not because he was too weak to have actually finished the job. No, he was beaten black and green because he had tried to kill himself.
"No one can touch you, kitten. Back when I was alive, cats were held sacred. When a man killed a cat, he was brought before the temple priests of Bast, and punished. Usually by death. Cats are soft, but sometimes they have claws. I've taken your claws, Kitten, but you still bite. No one, you hear me, NO ONE can take you away. If they so much as touch you, they will be put to death for hurting my kitten."
Ryou hadn't the presence of mind to remember not to argue.
"Why kitten? Why not cat?"
His head snapped to the side, the blow slowly closing his eye as it swelled shut.
"Because, just like my rabbit, you are too timid and shy. Too skittish to be a full cat. You are soft and weak- like a kitten ought to be.
Bakura always knew the best ways to keep Ryou down long after the bruises healed.
-
Ryou Bakura walked into the classroom with his head down. He hadn't even tried to cover the bruises this time. If anyone asked- and they wouldn't- he was mugged. He never looked up, eyes downcast, soft and timid as a newborn kitten. He was nothing. No one. He wasn't yadonoushi. He wasn't rabbit.
He was never Ryou.
He sat down, his seat cold and unyielding, desk towards the back- unnoticed by any.
He didn't even bring his bag today, not caring. His education meant nothing. It was no escape. It was no use. He would never need these things, these teachings.
The only thing he needed to know was how to stay out of the way.
And he already knew that.
Tears threatened at his eyes, the hopelessness of his situation crashing down on him again and again. He was alone, had always been alone, and would forever remain that way. The only ones who cared were his dolls, and he only thought they cared because he was a precious step away from the precarious precipice of insanity.
Oh, he was far from sane already, but there is a difference between gibbering nonsense and simply living in your head.
What he had known, consciously or not, was eating him alive. It was gnawing at him as never before. Maybe it was the pain; maybe it was the knowledge that soon- very soon- his yami would not need him anymore. He was as good as dead now, and he was only playing at life because what else could he do?
A tear leaked at the corner of his eye, closed to the brightness, the terrible brightness of the world. Why was it bright? Why didn't it reflect his insides? Why couldn't it be dark, stormy and turbulent?
Because nature had never cared for him, he was so small and insignificant that nothing cared for him.
Did he himself even care?
There was a thought. Did Ryou care about Ryou? Was there any Ireason/I to care about Ryou? What did Ryou matter in the grand scheme of this worthless charade of life?
There was a snapping into place of an idea, a concept that was so foreign it hurt to think of. How had he ever though that anyone- even himself, could love Ryou Bakura?
He blocked out the sounds of laughter, the sounds of life in the classroom. His head slowly rose from his empty perusal of the desk, eyes opened in a whole new world. This was a world without possibilities, without responsibilities.
A whole new world of pain and degradation that he had brought on himself. For the longest time, he blamed Bakura for his timid nature, his painful isolation. But the only way his twisted life made sense- it was Ryou himself who had made this life. He was unlovable. He was unreachable. Untouchable.
What perverted sense this made. What absolute sense it made.
He was never loved because he was never meant to be. He could never even love himself.
Brilliant.
-
There was a change in Ryou. His yami noticed it dimly, a sort of pleasure came to him from the absolute obedience from the boy. He sometimes had a fleeting worry over the mental state of Ryou, but only passing.
His teachers seemed to notice the change too. Ryou Bakura, always quiet yet never inattentive and a decent student, never worked. Hardly paid attention. He was strangely aloof, seemingly off in his own world.
The children around him dimly noted the change too, passing glances that saw only that he was less timid, yet more withdrawn than ever.
Yuugi Motou noticed this, but only ever talked about it with Yami, thinking that it was just a phase, one that he had gone through too, where the weight of the world had become too much and he had finally just shrugged and said "Oh well."
But he was wrong, very, very wrong.
-
Ryou walked home from school, preferring the quiet solitude he could find in being lost in a crowd. It made little sense when he thought about it hard enough, but nowadays he thought of very little very hard.
It was a survival mechanism that had served him well in past years, and was all he did nowadays. The less he thought about the painful things in his life, the less he had to feel pain about. It made sense in that convoluted way, the one that only the truly repressed; the truly insane could pull off.
And Ryou was beginning to realize just how crazy he really was…
-
Things at home were the same as always. The spirit of the ring oblivious to the white-haired boy, keeping to himself unless Ryou got in the way. But Ryou seldom got in the way. In fact, he usually kept to himself in the corner of his room. He lived in a one-bedroom apartment bought and paid for by his absent father. He kept to one corner of his room, only venturing out for the necessities. He hardly bought food anymore. He ate at school, and his spirit would feed himself when he resided outside of the ring.
Mostly Ryou just sat and reflected. Thought about life, thought about things only he could think up. He didn't dream, no. Not anymore at least.
He had in his earlier years, but with his gradual slide into madness and despair, his dreams died too.
His dolls were the only things he truly cared for. Even above his own welfare. He combed their hair, straightened their clothes. He kept them as pristine on the outside as he could never be on the inside.
The dolls had become his only real reason to live. He had no real attachment to life besides the deep-seated need to care for the people who had tried to love him, tried to help him.
He did not have the stupidity and cowardice to take his own life, except that once on the bridge. He knew that eventually the spirit of the ring would put him down, like a dog. He didn't even entertain the idea of killing himself anymore- not after the last beating.
And really, he had once had interests, had once laughed and played games. Had been devoted to his deck, his occult connection to his cards that let him read the future. He had seen his fate once, but he had been unable to read all the cards- only seeing the cards of submission and denial.
And oh how he had loathed his life in those few moments.
But, as he had done with so many other things, he pushed these thoughts away, leaving him with a curiously blank mind, one that he filled with silences and desolation.
-
Ryou walked slowly to school, stopping now and again before wandering on his way again. He lacked the desire to even dislike school anymore. He lacked the drive to care about anything.
He just… lived.
-
Yuugi watched Ryou walking to school, started to really look, see some of what was under the surface of Ryou. And he didn't like what he saw.
Not at all.
-
Ryou had a soul room, like any item holder. One that he seldom slipped into. He preferred to live at the edges of his consciousness, on the edge of awareness.
But on the rare occasions he slipped into his soul room to get away from even himself, he was always surprised at the lack of it.
His room had, over the years, disappeared into a single box that lay in the corner of his room. In it he had memories, both precious and painful. Everything he felt, everything he thought and said. It contained his very essence.
The room itself was wholly unremarkable. Completely blank, devoid of color, emotion, or clutter. He had no toys or games, like Yuugi. His room held no darkness, nor any light really. It simply was.
Much like Ryou.
There was only the box, and only a bed. It was a futon, white and flat. One that he had never touched, never even thought about. But he saw it now. It seemed to call out to him, asking him to lay his weary head down.
To sleep.
The eternal rest he so craved.
Only two things kept him back. His dolls, and the irrational hope… the desire to stay, as long as he could, with his spirit.
His spirit was the one thing in his life that had ever acknowledged him, had ever stayed. His spirit cared for him, in a sick and twisted sense. It kept him safe… it kept him. And that was more than he could say for the rest of the world.
-
"Ryou… Hey, Ryou. What're you up to tonight? Because I was going to ask the guys if they wanted to go see a movie or something. Would you want to go?"
Ryou gave Yuugi credit, the poor little guy tried. He just didn't understand.
Even Ryou had a hard time understanding.
"I'm sorry Yuugi."
A soft whisper, the first words of the week, and they didn't even explain why he was sorry. In fact, he really wasn't. He just didn't care.
"Sorry for what Ryou? Can't you come?"
A sigh. Sad eyes slowly looking upwards, finding a knowing set of eyes so blue they were almost purple. Ryou almost wondered how they did that, but he could feel the stir of the spirit and that prompted him to answer Yuugi's question.
"B- B- Bakura doesn't like it when I go out."
There. Blame it on the spirit. It was true though, and Ryou couldn't bear the thought of another doll.
"But he doesn't rule your life. You can just go to a movie. It's not like you're going to dissapear."
A widening of scared eyes, a sense of a growl. Oh shit.
"Nononononooo… Why'd you have to say that… No…"
He trailed off, eyes closed, hurt pulsing into his heart like it had once done. Then it was gone, pushed into his box of pain. Yuugi just looked at Ryou in horror, with a seeming understanding of a situation that he had no real idea of.
"Does he… hurt you?"
A bark of laughter.
Oh, was that him? He hadn't laughed in ages.
"Yes. No. Maybe? I don't really remember. He just doesn't like… anything really. Goodbye Yuugi."
Yuugi looked at Ryou questioningly, hoping to make sense of the strange answer, but not succeeding.
"..Okay Ryou. If you need anything…"
"No more dolls… I don't want anymore dolls."
Yuugi shrugged, not understanding yet again.
"Okay Ryou. No more dolls… What dolls are you talking about?"
But Ryou just walked away, shaking his head and muttering about dolls.
"What a weird guy."
If only Yuugi knew the half of it…
-
Ryou wandered. He wandered downtown Tokyo tonight, no sense of time, distorted sense of space and thoughts… People moved around him unconsciously, not even noticing why they moved, only knowing that they did. Ryou stared at the stars as he walked, trusting some inner sense to keep him going forward.
The stars were a marvel to Ryou. They were so far away, so bright, yet they shone only softly, only minutely. When a star died, it would collapse into a black hole, a negative space sucking all that was light and good and dark and bad about a universe and swallow it up gone. But here, in Tokyo, even with all the lights and pollution, he could still see the reflection of their light. Echoes that lasted for thousands of lightyears until they gradually stopped.
Would anyone notice when Ryou died? A vague notion, quickly forgotten, and the hurt of it a bare squeeze. How could he care about who or what would remember him in death when none cared in life?
Sometimes, when it was really dark and quiet in his room as he stared into the dark recesses of the world, he wondered if his life could have been different. He wondered if he could have had friends, a family, a life. He dared to spin fragile dreams out of breath and tears and pain and give them life. Build a new universe for himself to live on in. Once, he almost made it happen, almost made that picture clear.
He had found himself crying and holding himself so hard there were bruises later. Now all he had were snatches of remembered dreams and fragile fantasies. A gentle laugh, a whispered endearment. A touch.
Ryou craved it, even as he drove it away. Touch… Sometimes he would touch a finger to his arm to see if he was real, to see what he felt like. He felt cool, soft and boney at the same time.
Ryou stopped in the street, staring at the stars. How he would have loved to be a star, burning brightly for someone. But now, now all he was, all he ever would be, was a black hole, eating the light and hope from around himself. Forever diminishing until there would be nothing left. Of him, or of the world.
A strange, strangled giggle escaped chapped lips. He heard a strange sound, almost like a door being opened. He felt sunshine on his face and heard the song of birds and laughter of children at play.
There was a pain, something more than physical. More than spiritual. It ate at him, a hole where his heart should have been, and the monster staring at him, amazed and… Ryou couldn't read anything from Bakura, he was too far away, to dim in Ryou's eyes.
Ryou realized that he was lying down now, and that there was someone looking down at him, and the monster was watching with a dawning look of horror and amusement over their shoulder. The man's mouth was working fast, his hands searching Ryou… Was it help? Was it a thief, mugger, killer? Ryou sighed. He didn't care.
Why should he care?
There were more people now, staring at the sad, broken doll on the concrete, pale and barely there. He seemed to them hollow, a little less than what they thought he should be. It was almost as if they were seeing him from the corners of their eyes, a glimpse of something, but it was never there when you looked at it straight on.
The monster crouched low, a callused hand brushing back long white bangs, dirty from lack of care.
"Kitten… Are you leaving me kitten? I told you… I never let go of what is mine."
Ryou almost whimpered, almost felt a spark of fear and pain. But he just stared past Bakura, back to the stars. He felt smaller, less real than before. He found himself looking in his soullroom again, at that box. There was nothing but the box. It was dark in his room, but it wasn't just dark, it was the absence of light and space. Ryou stared at that box and he felt it open. He felt cool winds and warm rains. He heard laughter and screams. A world of pain. A small measure of happiness and hope.
His life, those fragile concoctions of breath and dreams, all waited for him beyond the pale, in that box. Ryou stared at it, almost wanting it, almost caring.
He closed his eyes and shut the lid, sting down next to it and slowly leaning onto the box, resting his head and arms on it's cold surface.
"Kitten. Well, frankly I'm both surprised and amazed at what you've done with the place."
His monster was standing in Ryou's soul room, a cold glance assessing.
"I think that I underestimated your insanity."
Ryou giggled.
Bakura crouched next to his kitten, watching. Ryou stared through him, gazing into nothingness.
"When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares into you."