Hello everyone!
After a brief rest from writing (I lost my motivation) I'm back with a new story. I have decided to discontinue my other story, The White Hare, so apologies to those who were following it. I hope you enjoy this story as much, if not more, than you were the other.
This story is based on a mix between the manga and the anime: essentially, it focuses on Ryou receiving the Millennium Ring, and his slow realisation that there is more to the artefact than meets the eye. How does he handle the emergence of Yami Bakura?
As always, please review/comment/ feel free to suggest/request. I hope you enjoy!
This story is, of course, for InLoveWithMysteries, and JustCallMeLucie. And for any of my lovely followers who make it so addictive to be a member of this site! :*
~Jehbel
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The silence was oppressive, thick, unthinking; was time moving? Was he frozen in place?
What was…. He?
The thoughts, sluggish and barely existent. Breaking apart, dissipating like ribbons of smoke. Were they even real to begin with?
The darkness reared up and took him. He offered no resistance.
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Then, the whisper of consciousness, lightning-swift and elusive even as he focused on it. Quick, hold it.
Don't let it go.
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How long had it been? Aeons? Was time still steadily working forward in a deathly march of inevitability? Was he still beholden to its hateful pull? He could feel it. He could feel the darkness, an impenetrable and endless blanket. He could not move. He was curled in on himself, foetal and weak in his womb-like tomb of nothingness. Was he cold? Surely he would feel nothing in this utter void? Still, the shivers rippled down his spine like nightmarish fingers, tripping and tickling their way down. Suddenly, he could feel solid coolness under his body; was he laying down? Was this a floor?
Why am I am aware of this?
The kick of hope, like an ugly hiccup in his stomach.
I am… alive. I am... me.
He was awakening, after so long.
With the realisation of self, of sensation, he became ravenous. A slavering beast. He craved. He craved more than anything has ever craved in all the worlds.
Light. Freedom. Flesh. Control. He wanted it all.
Hands clenched and released; clenched and released.
Curiosity crept in. Why now? What was different?
A face swam across his mind before the thought had completed itself. Ah, a Carrier. Pale, grave. Shockingly different to the faces he was used to knowing, yet somehow so familiar. What world is this? How did he come by my vessel? He focused on the face. Young. Male? Easy. The face was almost blinding in its purity and innocence, the eyes large, rich, beguiling. He could feel his Carrier's sense of Self, and it enraged him. He could sense his Carrier's name, so solid and assured.
A new sensation- malicious, hateful glee, unfurling in his stomach like an insidious centipede. Easy. He will easily give over to me. I will take his body, his Self, his very name. And I will make a mockery of it.
Finally, he stretched. His mind, dormant for so long, feeble and fatigued with misuse. His body, as insubstantial as vapor. Agony ripped through his limbs as though they were real, and were feeling for the first time. Perhaps they were. His lips drew back in an angry grimace at the pain; it would not defeat him. I will walk this world again. He relished the sensation.
Suddenly, terror; the darkness was returning.
No!
He fought it. He fought with everything he had in his fragile self. But the darkness was an old enemy, and a strong one; it remembered. He had no place beyond it. He clawed and bit, cursed and struggled, but still slipped under as easily and lightly as a feather. The darkness settled, and he knew no time. No sensation. No self. It all left him as quickly and painfully as it had come.
But, he had tasted consciousness, and the bright spark of life could not be easily forgotten. So he sank, and slept, and forgot all again.
All but that face, so bright. And the name.
Bakura. Bakura Ryou.
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"Father!"
The young teen threw himself forward to wrap his arms eagerly around his father's waist. The taller man chuckled deep in his chest, the sound reverberating through Ryou's slender body, calming and pleasing him. His father's voice had always had a soothing effect on him; it was solid and warm, and as robust as the man it belonged to.
"Ryou. So good to see you, Son!" The travel-weary man crushed his small son in a hug, knocking the wind out of the teen and causing him to laugh breathlessly in response. "I missed you!"
Ryou grinned up at his father, large brown eyes adoring. "I missed you too! You were gone for so long this time!" He closed one eye as his father's large hand mussed his white hair, and grinned up at the man through his messy bangs.
"Not so long, Ryou; only five weeks. Gods, you need a haircut, m'boy!" It was a fond joke between the two of them; they both loved Ryou's shaggy white hair, inherited from his own father and grandfather, and they would never seriously consider cutting it off. Ryou laughed dutifully in response and playfully pushed his father's hand away as though he found it irritating. In fact he felt the opposite; he loved his father so dearly that such a simple gesture gave him untold happiness. His father was, after all, Ryou's best and only friend. He had missed him terribly during his business trip.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. You'll be sorry if I actually get it all cut off one of these days!" Before his amused father could reply, however, Ryou tugged excitedly at his shirt sleeve. "So, come on! Where's my present? What did you bring back this time to make up for abandoning me for five million weeks?"
"Ryou, leave your father alone, he has barely had time to put down his bags!" Ryou's mother emerged from the kitchen, shaking her head with tolerant amusement at her son's over-excitement. Leaning forward over the top of Ryou, she planted a chaste kiss on his father's mouth before placing both her hands on Ryou's shoulders. They were slender and soft, and smelled faintly of soap. "Hello, darling."
His father gave another chuckle, his eyes softening as he gazed at his wife, his expression intense. Ryou felt the familiar pang of jealousy at having lost the man's undivided attention.
"Father! Come and see my newest figurines!" He reached forward to again pluck at the taller man's sleeve, drawing his focus back to himself before he could reply to his wife. Ryou knew he was acting childish, but he had waited for so long for his father to return. It had been a lonely five weeks.
"Ryou," his mother sighed with slightly more exasperation.
"Here-" his father squatted down briefly, unzipping the vinyl satchel bag by his feet. "I'll give you this, for now, and then I'll bring you the rest of your presents later, and check out these new figurines of yours. But first of all I need a cup of coffee, before I die!" Ryou giggled at his father's dramatic claim, his large brown eyes widening as they caught the glimmer of gold from within the bag. His thoughts already began to forget about monopolizing the older man.
"I bought this for an incredibly low sum in Egypt. It's real gold, Ryou, so mind you keep it safe. The man who sold it to me told me it has great powers. I don't know about that, but it is definitely old and very valuable. I thought you might like it- I know how you love to collect things…"
His father's words barely penetrated Ryou's mind, absorbed as he was in the object his father was holding out. Indeed, all sound seemed to become muffled and still. It was a wheel- no, a ring. A ring of solid gold. Several small spikes hung off the object at regular intervals around the circumference, swinging and chiming dully when they struck one another. In the centre of the ring was a triangle of flat gold, the imprint of an eye stamped into the centre. "Oh… it's beautiful," Ryou whispered. He was not sure why his voice was so hushed, but the object demanded attention and reverence; to shout in its presence seemed… unthinkable. The object had been wrapped in thin tissue paper for its voyage, which his father was using to grasp it with; perhaps, like Ryou, he was loathe to touch the shining meal for fear of smudging it with oafish hands. Ryou held his hands out, palm-up, to receive the present; they were shaking slightly. As his father placed the ring onto his son's palms, a long thin strip of black leather slithered from the paper to swing loosely from the ring. It's a necklace!
Ryou swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat, his rich brown eyes flicking up to meet his fathers; so similar, but less intense than his son's. Ryou was not sure, but for a startling moment, his father looked grave and haggard. But no, surely he had imagined it, for now the older man was smiling and folding Ryou's fingers over the ring. "Well, do you like it?"
With a small jump, Ryou realised he had not spoken for several minutes, enraptured as he was by the object he now held. With a final glance at the ring, Ryou flung his arms around his father's neck, giving him a slightly embarrassed kiss on the cheek. All of a sudden, the heavy stillness that he had felt moments ago was broken.
"I love it! Thanks, Dad! This is amazing! It's so pretty! And heavy! I promise I'll look after it!" His father chuckled and patted his son's back, pleased with the response, as Ryou pulled back to again stare at the object in his hand.
"Make sure you do. Now- why don't you go and find a suitable place to keep it? I'll be up soon, once I've had… my coffee." His father's eyes slid up past his son to lock with his wife's, causing a small flush of pink to tint her cheeks.
For once, Ryou didn't notice the exchange, or care.
"Sure thing! I know just the place to put it, too!" Grinning at his father, Ryou turned and bounded up the stairs, his cheeks flushed with the pleasure that comes with a new discovery.
"Now, if I just move these…" Ryou murmured to himself, using his free hand to gently push some figurines to one side of the shelf, "this should fit nicely… here." He placed the ring, still wrapped partially in the tissue paper, on the shelf, but almost immediately picked it up again. No, that was wrong. The white-haired teen shook his head, frustrated. He had tried putting the ring on every one of his shelves now, and in every case it looked… wrong. Unbefitting. Messy. He wanted to make his father proud; he wanted to treasure the ring. But he also wanted to see it. Where can I put it that's safe, where I can look at it?
His large brown eyes shifted to the space above his bed, where his dreamcatcher hung on a nail. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.
That would be the best place for it, but father also gave me that dreamcatcher. It is supposed to keep bad dreams and spirits away. But- he gazed down at the ring in his hand, again enraptured- This is far cooler!
With sudden decisiveness, Ryou clambered onto his bed carefully, one hand held out to keep his balance on the springy surface, the other firmly grasping the tissue-wrapped ring. Reaching forward, he deftly plucked the dreamcatcher from the nail it was hanging from, letting it drop unceremoniously to the floor by his bed. Then, breath held in anticipation that he was not even aware he was feeling, Ryou looped the leather over the hook, and tugged the tissue paper off the artefact, finally freeing it from its wrappings entirely. It hung, heavy and dull in the unlit room, swaying ever slower until it came to a rest.
Ryou released his breath, a grin splitting his face. It looked great! The necklace was a good length, and the eye on the ring stared out across his bedroom like a sentinel. The spikes, now free, hung in perfect symmetry around the edge. It was a magnificent item. Ryou's chest felt tight with renewed love for his father; he had chosen well.
He decided to call his father up to look at the ring's new home. As he turned to hop off his bed, however, a small flash of white caught Ryou's attention. Turning back to the ring, the teen noticed a small white feather, likely from the dreamcatcher, had fluttered down to rest over the eye. It was only small, barely noticeable, but Ryou frowned and reached to brush it away with his fingers. The ring was too perfect to be marred by an errant feather.
As soon as his flesh met the cool metal, the teen felt a great shock of delighted rage pass through his mind. With a gasp, he pulled his fingers back as though burned, but the sensation had already subsided. Staring wonderingly at his own fingertips, Ryou, gulped, his heartbeat racing. What on earth was that? The remembered rage made his skin clammy and he clenched his teeth without realising. His eyes slowly rose to take in the ring, hanging innocently on the wall in front of him.
"Ryou!" His mother's voice made him startle terribly. "Would you like some cake?"
The teen shook his head, clearing it. Had that even happened? "S-sure, Mum. I'll be right there."
Ryou climbed down off the bed and opened the door, glancing back one last time at the golden ring hanging quiet and peaceful on the wall. I definitely imagined that. Right?
That night, Ryou had the first nightmare.