Angst, for the sole purpose of itself
~ ~ Chapter One: Humans Exaggerate ~ ~ Chapter Two: So What? Chapter Three: There's No Harm in That Chapter Four: Is There?
Rukita (me): Well, here I am again with yet another story. I realized I had to start this when I sat down to write my other Yu-Gi-Oh fan fic, "Kaiba-Chan No Party" and I found that Evanescence music doesn't work well with humor. Plus, humor is a daytime thing; angst a creature of the night, so when the sun sets, I cannot write one, beforehand I cannot write the other. Quite limiting, isn't it? Yet mood creates the story (as so eloquently stated by Nathaniel Hawthorne in "The Custom House"), at least a good one.
Ryou: So who's this story about?
Rukita: Mainly the three yami pairs (Bakura, Malik, and Yuugi), with probably less Malik until I understand his character more. I still haven't finished the Battle City series of Yu-Gi-Oh yet, so my knowledge of Malik comes mostly from other fics I have read (a not too consistent or reliable source), but once I finish the DVDs, I'll put more of him in. I'll also have some Kaiba in there too; I'm trying to use the characters with the most development (Anzu and Honda are kinda flat characters, Mokuba's too young to have problems, and I really don't think I could do much with Jounouchi or Mai, but they might get stuck in a little too).
Yami Yuugi: What's up with the title; it has the aura of foreshadowing to me.
Rukita: Well, yes. The whole point of this story is to explain an alternate viewpoint of why angst "plagues" our lives, basically stating that we experience angst and pain to fulfill an emptiness that we feel when "completely" happy. Kind of like in "The Matrix" where humans couldn't live in the perfect world that the machines had set up for them; they required an imperfect world where bad and pain do happen.
Also, sometimes, accuracy might need to be sacrificed to better the flow of the story (which is set up in a stream-of-consciousness style), so if there's a loose end somewhere, just ignore it. If you want a story that focuses more on plot, go read my other story.
Mokuba: Actually, her other one isn't too bad, so check it out anyway! ~_^ And also, reviews are what keep her motivation going; no reviews, no motivation, few updates. So please review (even a short little confirmation that, yes, people actually read the story).
Rukita: Quick little disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh (hopefully you realized this already), this fic will contain shounen-ai (any surprise there?) although not at first, and this is not a happy fic. At all. Also, I will provide translations for any Japanese I use in the story at the end of each chapter, but much of it's pretty basic stuff that anyone who's seen subtitled anime should know. Since there's little dialogue in the first chapters anyway, there shouldn't be too much Japanese, so don't worry about it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Bakura Ryou
Ryou sat on the train gazing out the window as he did every day. He always seemed to be the last passenger on the train, but he didn't mind; the solitude allowed him to think. The winter months sometimes got cold, dark, and lonely as he walked home from the train station, but lonely was better. When he was alone, the demon sleeping inside him would not awaken. Ryou had heard people refer to a demon inside of themselves, such as an addiction, obsession, or anxiety. He hated when they said that; they had at least some control over this other presence, whereas he had none. When the demon wanted out, he broke forth, leaving Ryou completely powerless even over his own body.
What little refuge Ryou sought in friends revealed itself to be a mere illusion, temporary at best. In his seeking friends that might understand his position, he had merely assisted the demon in his search. But maybe if the demon ever completed his goal, he would leave. Go back to sleep content and not disturb him again.
"Don't be stupid," two voices scolded him. One cried this statement out sadly, desperately wanting to believe what it had just denounced, pleading for Ryou to cling to what little hope remained. The other asserted the validity of this remark with a cruel, authoritarian arrogance meant to belittle any control that Ryou felt he held. This voice held within it a strength and volume that overpowered the boy's will, while the other voice merely echoed throughout his mind like a fading memory or a dream suppressed by reality.
"Reality, what is that?" Ryou asked himself. He had many realities, in none of which did he ever feel "real" himself. There were times like this, when his other self lay dormant inside his soul room; perhaps that was his reality. After all, this was the real world, filled with tangible objects and sensible occurrences. Yet weren't his dreams, at least at the time, just as concrete and logical? He could sense the world around him in his dreams, the sights, smells, sounds, all like those he perceived in the "real" world. Dreams served as reality number two. Three, it would seem, is his soul room: the non-existent place to which he disappeared whenever his spirit stripped him of his consciousness. This place had an abstract quality to it, much like the haziness of a dream, but afterwards it seemed more real.
"Why don't dreams feel real? But they aren't real, I've known that forever. Well, not forever; I'm sure as a child I couldn't understand what they actually were. But then my father would tell me their true identity: figments of the imagination compiled together composed of thoughts and events experienced during the day that served to organize my mind. If they are just 'figments of the imagination,' how can they be my reality? But what if I hadn't been revealed the truth? What if I had continued to believe that dreams were like a second life that I lived on top of this one? Less logical and more random in its basic rules and limitations, perhaps, but all the same, another of my realities." He leaned back against the plastic of the train seat, absorbed in his thoughts; the thought of a possible escape. "If dreams are one of my realities, why must I exist in this one? Can I not disappear into this alternate reality, and never have to emerge in this one again?" He closed his eyes and cleared his mind of all thoughts, allowing himself to pass into his world of dreams. "Yume . . . release me, save me, envelop me, don't let me go," he whispered, before his mind dove into the realm of the unconscious, leaving his body slumped on the train seat.
"Oi," his yami grumbled, stumbling out of his soul room, holding his head in his right hand; he wasn't too pleased at being woken,. "I've told you a million times how much I hate it when you fall asleep early; I don't enjoy being forced to take over when you decide to drift off." His hikari didn't reply. Yami Bakura stormed into his hikari's soul room to find him asleep, curled in a protective ball, on the bed, which was promptly kicked roughly. "Wake up!" he yelled, but the boy still lay asleep. Feeling ignored, Yami Bakura leaned forward and hissed in the smaller boy's ear. "I'm getting angry and impatient, and you know the extent of my patience. I'll ask you again, once more, to get your ass up and the get hell back to the real world."
"There is no real world," Ryou whispered in his sleep. Enraged, Yami Bakura grabbed Ryou's shoulders, his uncut nails digging into the skin, and pinned him down on the bed.
"How dare you," he hissed, his face nearly touching that of his hikari's, his eyes glaring a violent red, "don't think you can just ignore me like that, nor that you can hide by feigning sleep. Now get up." Upon seeing no response, no reaction at all, from the boy, he pulled back and delivered a blow to the soft, pale face under him. Nothing. Not a whimper, a cry, a flutter of his eyelids, a jerk, a wince, nothing. As if the body underneath him was nothing more than just that, a body, lacking a mind, a soul. Startled by this sudden feeling of emptiness, Yami Bakura stood quickly, glancing around the room as if Ryou were hiding somewhere among the cracks on the walls and ceiling. Ryou's soul room was surprisingly decrepit, despite its owner's youth. Yami observed the room's gloomy feel, emphasized by its crumbling architecture and sagging structure, finally realizing its forsaken appearance, much like its owner's expression. "He's really gone," Yami Bakura whispered, at first softly in shock, but then again, the anger returning to his cold face. "So, he left, did he? He can't hide forever; he'll have to wake eventually." He walked back to the bed, placing a hand on his hikari's cheek, rubbing the forming bruise with his thumb. "You'll have to wake eventually," he whispered, "and when you do, I'll still be here. You can't escape me, escape reality. For I am you, and reality will follow you like a dark shadow, wherever you go. In the meanwhile, I have no resistance do I? I may do as I please, without you to impede me." He stood again, a determined, pleased look flashed across his face. "Thanks for the free vessel, yadonushi."
Bakura sat up as the train slowed to a stop. He stood, glancing out the corners of his eyes, and then coolly walked down the train's stairs, out into the equally cool air.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Yume: dream Yadonushi: host
Rukita: I figure I'll try to cover a different person each chapter, only loosely intertwining their various stories at first, then eventually they will meld together as they realize that they are not the only ones to suffer from pain.
Yuugi: don't forget to please review!
Next Chapter: Kaiba Seto
~ ~ Chapter One: Humans Exaggerate ~ ~ Chapter Two: So What? Chapter Three: There's No Harm in That Chapter Four: Is There?
Rukita (me): Well, here I am again with yet another story. I realized I had to start this when I sat down to write my other Yu-Gi-Oh fan fic, "Kaiba-Chan No Party" and I found that Evanescence music doesn't work well with humor. Plus, humor is a daytime thing; angst a creature of the night, so when the sun sets, I cannot write one, beforehand I cannot write the other. Quite limiting, isn't it? Yet mood creates the story (as so eloquently stated by Nathaniel Hawthorne in "The Custom House"), at least a good one.
Ryou: So who's this story about?
Rukita: Mainly the three yami pairs (Bakura, Malik, and Yuugi), with probably less Malik until I understand his character more. I still haven't finished the Battle City series of Yu-Gi-Oh yet, so my knowledge of Malik comes mostly from other fics I have read (a not too consistent or reliable source), but once I finish the DVDs, I'll put more of him in. I'll also have some Kaiba in there too; I'm trying to use the characters with the most development (Anzu and Honda are kinda flat characters, Mokuba's too young to have problems, and I really don't think I could do much with Jounouchi or Mai, but they might get stuck in a little too).
Yami Yuugi: What's up with the title; it has the aura of foreshadowing to me.
Rukita: Well, yes. The whole point of this story is to explain an alternate viewpoint of why angst "plagues" our lives, basically stating that we experience angst and pain to fulfill an emptiness that we feel when "completely" happy. Kind of like in "The Matrix" where humans couldn't live in the perfect world that the machines had set up for them; they required an imperfect world where bad and pain do happen.
Also, sometimes, accuracy might need to be sacrificed to better the flow of the story (which is set up in a stream-of-consciousness style), so if there's a loose end somewhere, just ignore it. If you want a story that focuses more on plot, go read my other story.
Mokuba: Actually, her other one isn't too bad, so check it out anyway! ~_^ And also, reviews are what keep her motivation going; no reviews, no motivation, few updates. So please review (even a short little confirmation that, yes, people actually read the story).
Rukita: Quick little disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh (hopefully you realized this already), this fic will contain shounen-ai (any surprise there?) although not at first, and this is not a happy fic. At all. Also, I will provide translations for any Japanese I use in the story at the end of each chapter, but much of it's pretty basic stuff that anyone who's seen subtitled anime should know. Since there's little dialogue in the first chapters anyway, there shouldn't be too much Japanese, so don't worry about it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Bakura Ryou
Ryou sat on the train gazing out the window as he did every day. He always seemed to be the last passenger on the train, but he didn't mind; the solitude allowed him to think. The winter months sometimes got cold, dark, and lonely as he walked home from the train station, but lonely was better. When he was alone, the demon sleeping inside him would not awaken. Ryou had heard people refer to a demon inside of themselves, such as an addiction, obsession, or anxiety. He hated when they said that; they had at least some control over this other presence, whereas he had none. When the demon wanted out, he broke forth, leaving Ryou completely powerless even over his own body.
What little refuge Ryou sought in friends revealed itself to be a mere illusion, temporary at best. In his seeking friends that might understand his position, he had merely assisted the demon in his search. But maybe if the demon ever completed his goal, he would leave. Go back to sleep content and not disturb him again.
"Don't be stupid," two voices scolded him. One cried this statement out sadly, desperately wanting to believe what it had just denounced, pleading for Ryou to cling to what little hope remained. The other asserted the validity of this remark with a cruel, authoritarian arrogance meant to belittle any control that Ryou felt he held. This voice held within it a strength and volume that overpowered the boy's will, while the other voice merely echoed throughout his mind like a fading memory or a dream suppressed by reality.
"Reality, what is that?" Ryou asked himself. He had many realities, in none of which did he ever feel "real" himself. There were times like this, when his other self lay dormant inside his soul room; perhaps that was his reality. After all, this was the real world, filled with tangible objects and sensible occurrences. Yet weren't his dreams, at least at the time, just as concrete and logical? He could sense the world around him in his dreams, the sights, smells, sounds, all like those he perceived in the "real" world. Dreams served as reality number two. Three, it would seem, is his soul room: the non-existent place to which he disappeared whenever his spirit stripped him of his consciousness. This place had an abstract quality to it, much like the haziness of a dream, but afterwards it seemed more real.
"Why don't dreams feel real? But they aren't real, I've known that forever. Well, not forever; I'm sure as a child I couldn't understand what they actually were. But then my father would tell me their true identity: figments of the imagination compiled together composed of thoughts and events experienced during the day that served to organize my mind. If they are just 'figments of the imagination,' how can they be my reality? But what if I hadn't been revealed the truth? What if I had continued to believe that dreams were like a second life that I lived on top of this one? Less logical and more random in its basic rules and limitations, perhaps, but all the same, another of my realities." He leaned back against the plastic of the train seat, absorbed in his thoughts; the thought of a possible escape. "If dreams are one of my realities, why must I exist in this one? Can I not disappear into this alternate reality, and never have to emerge in this one again?" He closed his eyes and cleared his mind of all thoughts, allowing himself to pass into his world of dreams. "Yume . . . release me, save me, envelop me, don't let me go," he whispered, before his mind dove into the realm of the unconscious, leaving his body slumped on the train seat.
"Oi," his yami grumbled, stumbling out of his soul room, holding his head in his right hand; he wasn't too pleased at being woken,. "I've told you a million times how much I hate it when you fall asleep early; I don't enjoy being forced to take over when you decide to drift off." His hikari didn't reply. Yami Bakura stormed into his hikari's soul room to find him asleep, curled in a protective ball, on the bed, which was promptly kicked roughly. "Wake up!" he yelled, but the boy still lay asleep. Feeling ignored, Yami Bakura leaned forward and hissed in the smaller boy's ear. "I'm getting angry and impatient, and you know the extent of my patience. I'll ask you again, once more, to get your ass up and the get hell back to the real world."
"There is no real world," Ryou whispered in his sleep. Enraged, Yami Bakura grabbed Ryou's shoulders, his uncut nails digging into the skin, and pinned him down on the bed.
"How dare you," he hissed, his face nearly touching that of his hikari's, his eyes glaring a violent red, "don't think you can just ignore me like that, nor that you can hide by feigning sleep. Now get up." Upon seeing no response, no reaction at all, from the boy, he pulled back and delivered a blow to the soft, pale face under him. Nothing. Not a whimper, a cry, a flutter of his eyelids, a jerk, a wince, nothing. As if the body underneath him was nothing more than just that, a body, lacking a mind, a soul. Startled by this sudden feeling of emptiness, Yami Bakura stood quickly, glancing around the room as if Ryou were hiding somewhere among the cracks on the walls and ceiling. Ryou's soul room was surprisingly decrepit, despite its owner's youth. Yami observed the room's gloomy feel, emphasized by its crumbling architecture and sagging structure, finally realizing its forsaken appearance, much like its owner's expression. "He's really gone," Yami Bakura whispered, at first softly in shock, but then again, the anger returning to his cold face. "So, he left, did he? He can't hide forever; he'll have to wake eventually." He walked back to the bed, placing a hand on his hikari's cheek, rubbing the forming bruise with his thumb. "You'll have to wake eventually," he whispered, "and when you do, I'll still be here. You can't escape me, escape reality. For I am you, and reality will follow you like a dark shadow, wherever you go. In the meanwhile, I have no resistance do I? I may do as I please, without you to impede me." He stood again, a determined, pleased look flashed across his face. "Thanks for the free vessel, yadonushi."
Bakura sat up as the train slowed to a stop. He stood, glancing out the corners of his eyes, and then coolly walked down the train's stairs, out into the equally cool air.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Yume: dream Yadonushi: host
Rukita: I figure I'll try to cover a different person each chapter, only loosely intertwining their various stories at first, then eventually they will meld together as they realize that they are not the only ones to suffer from pain.
Yuugi: don't forget to please review!
Next Chapter: Kaiba Seto