Getting letters from his father was an experience few and far between. He felt the man wrote to him when he remembered he had a son somewhere still out there. Sure, he still funneled cash so that Ryou could live in that house all by himself, but Bakura had a sneaking suspicion he had an accountant or someone similar handle that. How would his father have time for it? He barely managed the museum that he was responsible for. People hardly had any idea that he even owned the place. That was left up to other people, too.

Just like Ryou had been.

The letter had started off as generic as they always did. Asking how he was, wondering what had been going on, if he had any events coming up. Ryou wanted to feel like there was something worth of emotion in these words. It was hand written. The only hope and proof that he had that his father took the time to sit down and think about his son. Sometimes he wished his father would come home.

But the letter was very unusual. After all the niceties in the beginning, it seemed his father was missing something. He wondered if there was a vase still kicking around in the attic. Ryou, of course, had no idea. He'd been instructed not to go up there. His father kept some things that belonged to the museum up there. Ryou had always thought it was paperwork, but now being told about an ancient vase he wondered exactly what kind of treasures were up there.

The letter warned that it was extremely old, and cracked on one side (Bakura taking this as realization that his father was hinting that if he broke it or cracked it any further he'd know about it). Ryou had been instructed to simply go see if it was still around somewhere and in good condition. His father seemed unsure in the letter if he had left it home after all. Maybe his father was growing a bit more absentminded in his latter years. Ryou couldn't really say.

He had to forcibly pull the drawstring for the ladder set down, the wood frame sounding like it was breaking just from being moved once he pulled hard enough. It came down and he stared at it for a long time. It didn't look safe enough for him to stand on, let alone climb up into the attic with. For a moment he thought about telling his father he couldn't find it. He'd believe him. Ryou was sure he probably wouldn't even come home.

He couldn't do that, he realized quickly after. So with a sigh and some very real apprehension his hand went to the top most step and he tried to carefully and lightly climb his way up the stairs. They creaked and shook terribly, making him wince with every one succeeded. Once he could see the dusty attic he just put his hands on the floor and pulled himself up. Better than risking death.

At the first breath drawn in he instantly went into a wheezing fit. The room was covered in dust and he felt like he was choking. He quickly barged his way through boxes to get to the small window in the back of the room. That too gave him a hard time to open but once he did he just leaned out of it, breathing the fresh air.

The sun that was let into the room at least helped a little, illuminating all the different things. Some of them he wasn't even sure his father should have. They looked like things that definitely belonged in the museum and not some civilian's house. It made him almost uncomfortable.

He put it in the back of his mind with another large breath. He needed to find that vase.

It took him a long while and a lot of sifting through boxes and pushing them aside, but he finally found what he thought to be his culprit. A very old indeed vase with weird marking along the side of it. It was beautiful, really. He stepped closer to inspect it, running the tips of his fingers carefully along the ceramic.

The lines and letters lit up with a brief and dying blue glow, warming beneath his hands. It got him to jerk away. He was no stranger to magic presence and he knew enough to realize he needed to back away. Probably lock the attic. Ignore it. Tell his father no. And never think about it again.

Ryou was just too curious for his own good.

He stepped closer again, reaching for the lid that was propped almost unevenly on top. He was careful not to jerk it away, despite his nerves being frayed all of a sudden, not wanting to break it. What he saw inside perplexed him, though.

A head full of dusty brown hair. For a moment he thought maybe he was finally losing his mind. Then he thought that there could be a severed head in that vase. All this time, waiting for him up here. His lower lip was drawn in between his teeth to keep himself from doing anything rash. The lid was placed carefully on the floor and he came closer.

With one swift move he reached out and tugged on the hair.

"Ow- Hey!"

Oh good. At least a living person was attached to it.

….when he realized what he'd thought he nearly hit himself. A living person? In his attic? Hiding in an old magic vase? Hadn't his life been ridiculous enough?

He approached the vase again. "Please come out of there." He said as calmly as possible which was becoming a task at this point.

The head tilted back, revealing large green eyes belonging to that of a child. She seemed a little perplexed about the man standing over her. Certainly no one she'd ever seen in the palace. "Go away! You're going to give my hiding spot away!"

"Hiding spot…" What on earth.

She nodded, reaching out, wiggling her chubby arms for the lid. "Please give it back and go away! Oh! And if prince asks where I am tell him you don't know! Okay?"

Ryou was hesitant. He probably should call the authorities. He should probably get her out of there. He probably should have done a million other things. But what he ended up doing was handing her the lid. She smiled with a chirped thanks before making him promise once more not to tell. He was out of words at this point so he blankly just nodded at her.

And after she slipped the lid over. He sat down next to the vase. Waiting. What more could he do?

An hour passed before he finally decided he'd had enough of this game and reached to take the lid off the vase once more. Only to reveal it empty now. He hadn't seen the little girl get out. He hadn't seen a little girl in his house for that matter, either. It would have been impossible to come hide in the attic without going through his house first. It was all a bit of the strange, the ridiculousness that he was almost comfortable with. Complacent. Used to.

Bakura sighed to himself, staring at the bottom of the vase as if she was going to reappear. When she didn't after another few minutes he put the lid on it, went to shut the window, and headed for the stairs. His eyes never left the vase, looking for a glow or eyes peeking out over the top, or anything that indicated that maybe he wasn't going crazy.

When nothing came he went back down the creaky old stairs and then closed the attic. Ryou sat down to his writing desk, reaching for his pen and begun his letter.

Dear father..