Hey all! :) It's been a VERY long time. I confess, I haven't even been trying to write. It isn't a lack of interest so much as...well, just other things taking the place of Fanfiction and Yu-Gi-Oh. I still plan on writing when it comes to me, but I'm not going to force anything at this point. Unfortunately, I think I may be out of practice. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. This is a small tidbit taking place after the Monster World Shadow Game from Season 0.
Pain; it's white hot and burning, a bright red stain in front of my eyes that stare, sightless, down. I hunch my shoulders, as though to pull into myself, to internalize my pain and compress my thoughts into the smallest possible space.
He paces around me.
"Traitor." He hisses, "Ungrateful, selfish brat."
The words are venomous. They lash out at me, whips stinging against my battered psyche. I can sense that he wants to hurt me; I can feel his fury like a fire, hungry, devouring. I can feel frustration, a black wave that is all consuming and endless. I can feel a cold, distant betrayal…as if he actually expected me to sit idly by, to watch, to—and this is so twisted that I almost want to laugh—support him.
Yet in all his plethora of black emotions, there is no real hatred of me… His thoughts are not so guarded as to hide from me that truth. In fact…there is, instead, a disappointment. And it's so foreign, so unfamiliar and shocking, that through the numbness that is over me, I manage to find it in myself to be surprised. I'd have thought that he'd hate me, loathe me, wish to eradicate my soul, shred it, send me into darkness… Surely it would be easier to find a new host than put up with my rebellion for a second longer…but no. He doesn't wish that. He wants me to feel pain, but he does not hate me.
He only hates what I've done… Of course that is no reason for me to not feel terrified of the consequences of my actions. And the fact that I do not regret my decision in the least infuriates him all the more. It's salt in the wound of his defeat. In his mind I should feel regret. I should feel remorse. I should grovel and beg forgiveness for my sudden insurgence.
I should fear him.
And yet…I don't.
I knowingly go against him. And I would do it again. He knows it.
And for that reason he would hurt me. He wants to. He aches with the desire to see me cower and scream before him. If only he could.
He knows he can't though, and that is my only promise, my one salvation. I am his vessel, his landlord, and so I am safe; protected. After all, my body is his prize, his tool. He harms me only when necessity demands it…or so he claims. My fingers twitch, and the white-hot burning pain lances up my arm, charring skin and nerves, making my entire body go rigid. I sense his satisfaction at my agony.
You deserve it, I hear the vicious thoughts directed at me, hard and savage, like a slap to the face.
Of course he would say I deserve it, though. I have wronged him. I have betrayed my master, my protector. I have made myself his enemy.
This small inconvenience is a mercy compared to what he feels I truly deserve.
And yet…none of it matters. His anger is just white noise to me now, my pain insignificant compared to this emptiness in me. All I can see are wooden faces, gazing up at me in terror, loathing. All I can see are their eyes, staring up in fear, as I stand looking down through him. Not my body anymore. His. But I can still watch.
And as I watched him cheat, as I watched him win, I realized that it doesn't matter what he does, or how he tries to force me into subservience. It doesn't matter how many empty promises he makes to me. I do not fear his anger.
And I realized something more, as I looked down on my tiny wooden friends, struggling for their lives on my game board.
I realized that I desire their acceptance. Not his.
I want their trust. Not. His.
I need them to know that I'm on their side…
…not his.
His hand whips across my face, the knuckles colliding with my cheekbone. I don't make a sound. He grips my hair, wrenches my head back.
As his mind is open to me, mine is also open to him. I forgot to censor myself. I forgot that he is always listening. His voice is sharp, and it cuts me with real pain, though there are no wounds.
"You do not wish for my trust, Landlord, my acceptance?" He laughs, a single barking sound deep in his throat, "You make a foolish mistake." His sneer is cold. His eyes are burning. I feel the betrayal in him blaze to life. He too forgets how close our connection is. He doesn't realize I know that he is hurt by my actions.
"You know nothing, Landlord!" He hisses coldly. "It was not your place to interfere in matters beyond you—"
"You were cheating!" I suddenly snap, allowing my gaze to flick up and meet his. Our eyes, so different, connect. His lip curls, his eyes narrow. But he allows me to continue. "I couldn't let you win, Koe… I couldn't let you… I couldn't…" I breathe deeply, unable to finish my statement for the passion and anger strangling my voice. I realize that I have leaned forward, that we are face to face, only inches apart. I take another deep breath, and match his icy tone of voice, letting my rebellion creep out of its hole. I speak slowly, deliberately,
"I will not let you kill."
He pauses, stares me down, and suddenly begins to laugh again, loud and long. It grates on my ears, and I have the urge to cover them, but my hand is burning, blood running through my fingers and painting my clothes. I can't move it. Instead I close my eyes and wait. Finally his laughter ceases, and he says in a falsely light voice, "You think to gain control? But what have you done to stop me? A few simple tricks, taking over a single limb for mere moments... I have killed, little one, and whether you like it or not, there is already blood on your hands."
I cringe, looking at my hands, covered in my own blood, but it might as well have been the blood of the others because I know that I am already stained with the blood of the demon's victims. I saw it. I saw them all. I saw their eyes, staring up.
I stood by and let it happen.
And perhaps that is why it was so very important that I save them. Those little wooden figures, they were helpless beneath my Dark's ingeniously creative and dishonorable strategy. And I couldn't watch anymore. I couldn't let them die. Not this time.
That was when I started fighting.
And—although there's a small part of me that longs for it, for the safety and comfort of my master's approval—there is no turning back now. I realize that in the cold betrayal of my rebellion I felt something that I have not felt in…so long—too long—and now I can't let go.
That is freedom.
Liberation.
For a few precious moments in that Dark Game, it wasn't "Dark and Light", "Yami and Hikari", "Koe, and Yadonushi". For just those precious moments, as I fought for my friends, as my dark impaled his own hand—my hand—on the castle tower, in those moments it was no longer "Us".
It was "Me".
And that defining word, that individuality, that freedom…I can never let it go.
My demon, he realizes this. He loathes this. Oh yes, he even fears it. I can see it in his eyes, full of black hatred.
He snarls, low, his voice icy. "You will not stand in my way." A pause, and he leans in, so close; his breath chills my skin. "You've started a war."
Time stops. This is the crossroads… I could beg forgiveness, even now. I could deny his words, and tell him that we're on the same side. If I do this I may even escape severe punishment for my mutinous actions. But instead…
I lift my eyes to his.
My lips twist in the ghost of a grin.
And I taste two words on my tongue; two words, knives that will cut my bonds and set me free: "I know."
Too confusing? I pray not. Please take the moments to leave a review. I want you to know that Reviews are what keep me tied to Fanfiction. I crave feedback. So more reviews = more writing, possibly :) If you feel so inclined, you can leave a request/suggestion for plots or topics that I could write about concerning The Bakurae or either of the Marikus ;) It may help my motivation, eh?
Anyways, PLEASE REVIEW! I will be eternally grateful :)