"Holy and merciful Father, I confess that I am by nature sinful, and that I have disobeyed you in my thoughts, words, and actions. I have done what is evil and failed to do what is good. For this I deserve your punishment, both now and in eternity. But I am truly sorry for my sins and trusting in my savior Jesus Christ I pray: Lord have mercy on me, a sinner."

I opened my eyes and rose after I finished. It was a routine prayer. Centuries of overuse left the words hollow, lacking any deep spiritual meaning. The voice in which it was said was mechanical; just as empty and hollow as the prayer itself. But, if it was so hollow, why did I still speak it? The answer was simple: the prayer was familiar and gave me security. I had spoken the prayer every week as a child.

I looked at the statue in front of me. It was as familiar as the prayer. Jesus holding out his hands, revealing the red marks where the nails where pounded into him. The eyes, painted to look kind and gentle, were empty. No presence, no life, resided in them. It was my belief that those who worshipped statues and idols where just like them. They had eyes, but could not see, ears but could not hear, a nose but could not smell, a mouth but cannot taste, hands but could not feel.

I sighed and turned away. As I exited the worship hall, I came to a mirror. I looked at it. Two empty eyes stared back at me. These eyes were mine, yet they mocked me. It was if they were taunting me. Their insults clear as crystal, I raised my arm, and my fist soared. The impact was powerful and the mirror shattered from the force I exerted. The glass cut my fist and arm, the cuts ranging from scratches to gashes. I raised my arm and watched for a moment as the blood dripped to the burgundy carpet, restoring the faded carpet to its original color.

Still, I felt no pain. I dropped my arm and it fell helplessly to my side. I stepped out into the white winter wasteland. The wind blew harshly, yet I still did not feel. My arms, bare and exposed to the harsh elements, hung limp and no feeling shot through them. Glancing down, I flexed my fingers. The power of movement was still mine, but I wasn't sure how long it would last. My life wasn't fading as fast as I would've hoped, but it was leaving me in substantial amounts.

Things had gone down hill since that horrid year. My, although I did not know it at the time, final year of life was my final year at Duel Academia. We had been told Ryo was dead. I knew he wasn't. I didn't feel him leave. But I stayed silent. I stayed silent through the mock funeral. The gravesite holds an empty casket. It island holds a lie. No, not just one, but many. There are so many cover-ups that there is very little truth on that island anymore. They lied about the Seven Stars, about the Three Demons, the Hikari no Kessha, the Dark World fiasco, Judai, Ryo, all of us. Everything anyone who shared a bond with Judai had ever done was hidden under layers of lies.

It was pathetic.

I had left the Academia and never once looked back until I was well away from society. Then I merely played passive observer. I watched as the others dueled and won or lost. I watched as their lives deteriorated until they all ultimately faced the same end: slow suicide. Some went insane before succumbing to death. In the end, they had all left me alone to die, even Asuka. I was not the first to go; Judai had gone long before I.

I was the last of the original Duel Academia gang. The kids who "saved the world". Because my soul died, my body out lived all the others. How ironic.

So I sat down under an old oak tree, now void of its leaves, and succumbed to death.

And for a moment, all I could hear was my breathing.

Okay, I had this idea rattling around in my skull since I wrote "This Is How A Heart Breaks". Once again, this is no particular person, though I was at first thinking of Rei (Blair), towards the middle I was thinking of Judai (Jaden), and at the end I was thinking of Manjoume (Chazz). So, this one-shot drabble has no set character and can be interpreted as you wish. As is normal, I do not own GX. (Although I wish I owned Ryo[Zane…)

Review please!