Hello people. This is the first chapter of my new story, Loveless! It starts of with Amane, but that's ok, isn't it?

Summary: Ryou's never known what love feels like. His life has been nothing but lie after lie. But when the mysterious fugitive, Bakura Yabunashi (don't know his last name, sorry!), waltzes into his life, he's left torn between his life - and Bakura's.
Now faced with a difficult decision, what will he do? To make matters worse, he can't remember the last four years of his life, and a shady group wants him for those memories. And just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, Bakura reveals himself to be something he thought he wasn't... (A/N: A GIRL! Lol, just kidding. And you thought I wasn't:P)

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own anything! No matter how hard I imagine, it won't be mine. /Sigh/. Oh well. Maybe next time

---L-o-v-e-l-e-s-s---

Merciless

See the wind blow
Hear the light glow
Love the smell of the rain
Taste the bitterness of pain…

Amane screamed as she flew against the wall, blood trickling down the small of her back. A tall figure loomed above her, smirking. He stooped down and held Amane's chin in his bony hands. He leaned in and breathed in her ear.

"You know how to stop this," he rasped. "You know what I want. All you need to do is tell me. Tell- oof."

Amane kneed him in the stomach and jumped up. She pointed an accusing finger at the boy. "I'll never tell you! You lie! Anyway, you won't let me live whether I do tell you or not! Demo…" she lowered her finger and her gaze. "Why do you want to know? He has nothing of any value to you."

The boy grimaced, then grinned, standing confidently. "As a matter of fact, you're wrong. He does have value to me. You see… They want him. They have paid me more than you've ever had in this lifetime to track him down and take him to Them. So…" he advanced on Amane. "Will you tell me?"

"Ne-"

Amane stopped, gasping. The boy had moved so that he held Amane around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides. There was a knife held at her neck and he threatened to drop her off the side of the balcony they were standing on. All in the blink of an eye.

"Tell me. Tell me, or else I'll be forced to hurt more people. You don't want that, do you?" He cooed in her ear. "You don't want me to hurt your Mama, or your Uncle, just because you wouldn't tell me one measly thing, do you?"

Amane sobbed. "N-No… don't hurt them. Please… they didn't do anything to you…" she pleaded. Amane knew her position was dangerous. Just one flick of that knife and she could be dead. She knew she wasn't coming out of this alive…

"That's right. You don't want them to die, do you? Tell me what I want to know and I'll spare them." The boy bargained.

"B-But… you'll hurt him. I know you will. Don't hurt him… please?" Amane begged.

The boy growled, tightening his grip on the knife. "I won't hurt him. You know I won't. I'm too good at my job to let anything happen to the boy," he lied.

"F-Fine. I'll tell you. H-He lives five doors down. First room on the second floor. Two big windows to see into his room. Next to my room. B-But he's not there at the moment. He's on a school trip, but he'll be back tonight. He promised. Ryou doesn't break his promises," she said.

The boy grinned. "Thank you. You have been very helpful. Oh, and by the way, I lied." He smirked.

Amane's eye went wide.

"And now, you die."

"Wait! First, tell me who you are! What do They want from my brother?" Amane screamed out.

"Well, I suppose I could tell you that," the boy mused. "It wouldn't do any harm, seeing as you're going to die anyway. But then again, you're stalling me. So, I won't tell you."

The boy slashed the knife through Amane's neck. Her body went limp in his arms as she died a painful death.

"D-Damn you…" Amane rasped out, before the shadows of death claimed her and her heart stopped beating.

"If only I had a dollar for each time I heard that," the boy cackled wildly and threw the body off the balcony, into the street. "Know this, Amane Bakura, your fall came from me, Otogi Ryuuji! I damn you, so that your spirit will never know the peacefulness of the after-life, instead doomed to wander this world as a silent ghost, incapable of thought, feeling or speech!"

And with that, 10-year-old Amane Bakura passed away in the silence of the early night.

And Otogi slinked into the shadows.

---L-o-v-e-l-e-s-s---

"I'm home!" Ryou called out as he opened the door and stepped into a silent house.

"Mum? Dad? Amane? Anybody home?" He sighed as he dropped his bag by the door and hung his coat up on the hooks beside him. "I guess not. Huh. I wonder where everyone went?"

"I wonder where everyone went," some one mocked from behind him.

Ryou spun around, but no one was there.

"Amane? Was that you?" Ryou called out nervously as he stepped out onto the street. "Nah. It was probably just some random idiot making fun of me. Again. But whe- oh my god!"

Ryou gasped, his eyes wide, hands covering his mouth. Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground was his sister. His poor, innocent little sister. He ran over.

"A-Amane? W-What…? What happened?" Ryou sobbed. He picked up her hand and checked for a pulse. Nothing. No heart beat, no breath, no pulse, no nothing. She was, and always will be, dead.

"A-Amane! No… no… why… why are you dead? Who killed you?!" Ryou screamed out into the night.

"I did." The voice was icy and cold. Not a trace of warmth could be heard. There was only hate and malice. "And do you want to know why?"

Ryou spun around. Once again, no one was there. "Who's there? Who killed my sister? Show yourself! It's cowardly to hide in the shadows where people can't see you!"

A menacing laugh echoed in the air. Ryou turned around to see a figure step from the shadows beside him. A figure with black hair, green eyes, and an all too evil smirk.

"You killed her!" Ryou screamed, and threw himself at Otogi (for that's who it was), hitting, kicking and biting everything and anything he could reach. Otogi, however, just laughed and shook him off.

"Such a fragile creature is man, no?" Otogi laughed, using his foot to push Amane so that her head lolled to the side. "And she is one of the most fragile there is. Except maybe for you. Yes, I would say that you, dear Ryou, are the most fragile creature on this planet. But no worries, it'll all be over soon."

Otogi lunged at Ryou, curling his hands around the boy's neck. Surprised, Ryou let out a little gasp and instantly scratched at the hands, trying to pry them off his tender throat. He stumbled backwards, but Otogi wouldn't have it. He held him firmly in place, throttling the air out of his windpipes.

"So the son pays for the sins of his father," Otogi cackled.

"Nngh!" Desperate for air, Ryou kicked Otogi where the no man should ever be kicked. Otogi gave a hoarse cry and – after relinquishing his hold on Ryou – slunk down to the ground, winded.

Ryou took a breath of the life giving substance, and raced back into his house. He bolted the door and thundered up the steps, into his Mother's room.

Otogi growled, and chased after him, banging on the door with his fists.

"MUM!"

Apparently, Ryou's mum hadn't been out at all, she had been sleeping soundly in her room, tired of waiting for her son to return.

"MUM! Amane's dead and the murderer's outside trying to get me too!"

She jolted awake. "What?!"

Ryou was crying in the doorway. His silhouetted form stood shaking in the shadows. He lifted his head. "Mum, Amane's been murdered. And the killer's outside, trying to get in to get me as well," he repeated. "Mum… I'm scared. What's going to-"

Ryou flinched as the door was kicked open and Otogi's haunting voice floated up the stairs. "Ryou… I'm back. Did you miss me? I hope so, little Ryou."

Ryou blanched. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, he's here. Help us, help me, anybody, please, helphelphelphelphelp us! We're going to die, oh god I don't want to die, no don't kill us, spare us," he rambled.

"Ryou, hush. If we don't make a noise, maybe he won't know we're in here," she said, patting the trembling boy's head.

"Or maybe not," Otogi laughed as he stepped into the room. He held a gun in his hand, something that Ryou was sure he didn't have two minutes ago. "Aw, don't we look scared? Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit."

Otogi cocked his gun, took aim briefly, and fired.

"It'll hurt a lot."

Ryou clenched his eyes, expecting to feel the Teflon coated bullet shoot right through his heart. But it never did. The bullet was not aimed at him. So it was aimed at…

Ryou's mother screamed. She crumpled to the ground, clutching her bleeding chest. She was dead within a minute.

"Mum, no!" Ryou yelled out, steady tears trickling down his face. He crouched down next to her, and took her hand.

Ryou's body shook with anger. He noticed that a small pocket knife lay next to his mother's hand. He grinned. Ryou turned to face the murderer standing in the room. "You killed my sister. You killed my mother. And now you want to kill me. I honestly don't know how you can live with yourself. Do you live to kill?"

Otogi smirked. "Pretty much. But I can live with myself. What I hate are people like you, people who think that they are the good guys, just because they have never but a gun to a man's head and shot him dead. Not everyone can do that, you know. Some people really do need to kill for a living."

"Excuse me, young man, but kill who?" Said a voice from behind Otogi.

"Uncle!" Ryou gasped.

Otogi spun around and instantly shot the person behind him. It was a fairly young man with light brown hair and brown eyes. He screamed, and crumpled to the ground, just like Ryou's mother.

"Uncle!" Ryou yelled.

"No…"

A steady stream of crystalline tears ran down Ryou's cheek and dripped onto the floor. "You killed my family. Everybody I knew. Everybody I loved. Everybody that made my life worth living. You are the lowest of the low, you evil murderer…"

Ryou cried out. He leapt forward and slashed at Otogi with the knife, not giving the assassin-boy a chance to shoot him. They toppled to the floor with Ryou sitting on top of the miniature assassin. "You!" Stab. "Killed!" Stab. "My!" Stab. "Mother!" Stab. "And sister!" Stab. "And uncle!"

Ryou broke into tears again and rolled of the boy. He was covered in blood, dirt and saline tears.

Otogi had been pushed too far to the edge of death. He was fading away, just like his many victims. So this is what death feels like, he thought.

"Ry-Ryou…" he wheezed.

"What? What the fuck do you want? Haven't you caused enough damage and pain already? Just get the fuck out of my life, you son of a-"

"Ry-Ryou… Gome-nnasai. I-I'm sorry I-I was th-the one t-to cause y-you so much… nngh!... hurt… I-I truly am… sorry," Otogi coughed blood. His last words were begging forgiveness.

Ryou turned away. He couldn't bear to look at him. He couldn't bear to think that he had killed a man. Whether or not that man was evil no longer mattered. He was tainted. He himself was no longer pure. He was evil.

"O-Oh god, I killed him. I killed him. IkilledhimIkilledhimIkilledhim…"

And with that, 16-year-old Otogi Ryuuji passed away.

And the person who was once known as Ryou went with him.

---L-o-v-e-l-e-s-s---

Ryou jolted awake, beads of sweat running down his face, mingling with a few lonely tears. He wiped them away, angry at himself for showing such a weakness.

He sighed and checked the clock on the drawer beside him. 2:37am. It was two fucking thirty in the morning. Disgruntled, he crawled out of bed and headed towards his dresser. After a memory/dream as vivid as that, there was no way in hell he was going to get back to sleep.

Ryou sighed again as he pulled on some random clothes. It had been almost four years since his family had died, and he couldn't remember anything from after that incident up until two months ago. He had been to the doctors – about twenty different ones, in fact – but none of them knew why he couldn't remember anything. Of course, he didn't tell them about his family. As far as they were concerned, they had left him to fend for himself.

But that wasn't true. They were indeed murdered by the mysterious assassin who had begged forgiveness. He had indeed killed that assassin in a fit of desperation, anger, hurt and pain. He was indeed fully alone. But, of course, he didn't know what happened to Amane.

He just hoped she had tried to defend him in whatever happened between her and the boy.

Ryou trudged into the kitchen and grabbed himself an apple from the fruit basket on the counter-top. He had to move after the incident. He would have stayed, except for that the police came sniffing around. It was quite suspicious for a boy his age to survive a mass murder like that, unless, of course, he was the murderer.

And no matter how much he begged and pleaded and cried, he still looked responsible. So he moved far away and lived like a hermit. Only going out for school, groceries, work, and the occasional walk around. He had no friends, no contacts, no outer communication at all.

He was fading away, day by day. And when he finally disappeared, nobody would care. Except maybe for Anzu and her cronies. They would have to find someone new to pick on.

Sighing, he grabbed his coat and walked out the door. Time for a morning walk to mull his thoughts around a bit.

He shivered as the cold air hit his pale skin. It was dark outside. Darker than it usually was at this time in the morning, he mused as he locked his front door and set off down the footpath.

Yes, it was early, but it was never really dark enough for him to not be able to see over 20 meters in front of him. But now he could barely see his own feet. Ryou thought about going back to fetch a torch, but decided against it. It was nice to walk around in the dark, with the air whistling through your hair and for everything to be silent. It was a rare sight in his street. A sight that he would have to see more often.

I wonder if anything interesting is going to happen today… he thought, but didn't really care whether anything interesting did happen or not. He had stopped caring all those years ago, when he lost his only contact to love he had.

Yes, he was a lonely, pitiful boy. He was spat on like dirt, like nothing, and the people at school did nothing to help. Although many of the girls liked him, and so did a lot of the boys, he never felt truly loved by any of them. It was only lust in their eyes. He knew it, and so did everyone else. This was why he tended to dislike people.

Ryou turned the corner and wandered down the road. His feet always carried him wherever his heart felt like going, seeing as he never really paid attention to where he was going. Not that his heart felt very special at the moment.

No, his heart felt lonely. It ached for love, to be loved, to feel loved, to have a reason to love. But he didn't think he ever would get the satisfaction of feeling any of those. He would never again feel the sensation of being loved. He would never know the feeling of happiness that came from knowing some really did care whether you were alive or not. His last chance had been with his family. But now they were gone too.

He was, simply put, unloved.

Nobody cared what he learned at school. Nobody cared if he passed his exams or not. Nobody cared if he tripped and grazed his knee. Nobody was there to kiss his wounds better. The wounds of the seemingly endless day.

But the emotional scars are always far worse than any physical pain.

Ryou should know. He had felt more than his share of emotional pain, and the world was spewing more at him. The Earth was a cruel place to live on.

And his life didn't seem to be worth living at the moment. Not that it ever had in the last four years. Not that it ever would.

A scream pierced the air, shaking Ryou from his reverie. His heart sped up a few beats. He never again wanted to see or hear anyone die. He never again wanted to feel the pain that came from seeing someone die.

But hearing it and letting it go one felt much worse to him. It was worse than actually facing death himself. Because he didn't want anyone to die, not when he could've stopped it, or delayed it.

So Ryou raced to the source of the voice.

Another scream echoed through the silent air, and Ryou picked up the pace, running faster. He skidded to a halt in front of a dark alley way. Oh, what a clichéthis is.

Ryou ran without hesitating. He knew that hesitating could be the worst mistake of his life, or of someone else's.

So he ran blindly into the dark, his eyes darting back and forwards, searching for anything suspicious.

He soon came to the source of the voice. There, slumped against a couple of rubbish bins, sat the sorry form of a boy about his age. He had snow-white hair, tattered clothes and scars all over his face and arms. Standing over him was another boy. He had brown hair and was wearing the uniform of Ryou's school. The boy was about to kick the other in the ribs.

"Stop!" Ryou yelled, running at the boy and pulling his shoulders back. The boy fell backwards, almost falling on Ryou, but Ryou jumped out of the way. "Don't hurt him!"

The boy snarled, grabbing Ryou's ankle and tripping him up. He then jumped up and loomed over Ryou.

"Who are you and what do you think you're doing? This boy badmouthed me, do you think I'm just going to let him get away with that? Do you even know who I am?" The voice was scratchy and harsh.

Ryou narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the boy in front of him. Then gasped. "Honda!" He yelled.

Honda was the school bully. He had the teachers wrapped around his middle finger, and the council around his pinky. Everyone was too scared of him to do anything about the problem. Until now, that is.

"That's right. And no one messes with Hiroto Honda!" He gave Ryou a kick in the ribs, and he cried out. "So you just lie there quietly while I beat the crap out of this dude. I'll deal with you after I've dealt with him." He promised.

"N-No…" I will not lie quietly and watch someone else get harmed!

Ryou struggled to a stand, and held onto a crate for support. He stepped forward, and stepped on something. He looked down, and an idea formed in his head. Perfect. It was a beer bottle. A glass beer bottle, made up of easily breakable glass.

The figure cried out as he was kicked again, blood trickling down the side of his body. He gave one final glare at his attacker before slumping into unconsciousness.

Ryou yelled as he lunged forwards, holding the bottle high. A very big mistake. His yell alerted Honda to his presence, and gave him time to turn and dodge Ryou's pitiful attack. Honda spun around, and punched Ryou in the stomach.

Winded, Ryou staggered back a few paced, but would not be distracted from his goal – to get Honda as far away from this boy as possible. He knew how it felt to be on the wrong side of Honda's tantrums. It was not fun. Not fun at all.

So, with tears of pain slightly clouding his vision, he threw the bottle at Honda with all the strength in his skinny little arms. Which is a lot, let me tell you. The bottle found it's target. It collided with Honda's forehead, where it broke into two pieces, then fell to the ground where it completely shattered.

Taken by surprise, Honda staggered back, gave a little spin for show, then fell on top of the unconscious boy, and didn't get back up.

Ryou sighed in relief. One less person to worry about. In the heat of the short-lived fight, he had almost forgotten about the other boy. Almost, but not quite. He could never forget someone in need, and vowed that he never would so long as he still had breath left to fight.

So he staggered over to where the two boys lay unconscious. He pushed Honda away and surveyed the other boy, checking for damage. He didn't look too bad – a few cuts and bruises, but nothing bad enough to go to the hospital for.

Ryou sighed again. How do I get myself into these messes? He thought as he heaved the boy onto his shoulders and started the long walk back home

---L-o-v-e-l-e-s-s---

Ryou sat on his bed, staring intently at his arm. There, scratched in red, was a word. A single word, with fancy decorations around it. That single word summarized his life. Imagine – his whole life summarized in one word. Of course, it didn't make him feel very good. But he didn't mind. Not a bit. He was used to it.

And exactly what is this word? Well, none other than "Loveless," of course.

It was a fitting word. He could not love. He had nobody to love. No one loved him. He could not feel love. He had no reason to love. No reason to life, but no reason to die. He never wanted to forget. Never wanted to forget how to love. How it felt to be loved. How it felt to love. But it was too late. He had forgotten.

He had forgotten his love. He had forgotten his life.

He was, in summary, unloved. He was spat on like vermin. To many people, he was vermin. But that's what other people thought. He didn't care about that. But he did care about how Amane felt.

Yes, Amane was dead, but so what? He still wrote to her every day. He poured out all the emotions he had kept hidden and wrote them on a simple piece of paper as a simple letter. Then he locked it away in the small box in the wardrobe, so no one could find it. So no one could find his weakness, and use it against him. Nobody would do that again. He learnt his lesson the first time.

He learnt many lessons. All those years ago, he learnt never to judge someone by their first actions. He learnt to never be afraid in the face of death. He learnt to act when people need help, and not just stand by and watch. He learnt that life is precious, yet everybody takes it for granted.

But the day he learnt this, he lost so much else. He lost the knowledge of love, to be loved, to feel love, and to feel loved. He lost his contact to people, the kindness they brought. He lost things worth far more than his own life. He was a shell of his former self, and never wanted to feel the pain of losing someone again.

For the scars of losing someone close to you run much more deep than those of physical pain. The run to the roots of your very heart, body and soul. They ruined your life, no matter how much time you had to heal.

Some people move on, saying that they are probably happier wherever they are. The forget about them and continue to live their normal lives. But others don't. They never heal. They choose to dwell on the past, intent on fading away, on regaining their lost lives. Their lost memories.

To most, memories are not enough to keep them going. They need human contact. They crave for it like a child craves it's mother. They are dependant on others. But to Ryou, his memories are his life. He lives in his own little world, surrounded by his memories, for nobody would – or could, as a matter of fact – show him the life that lay barely five steps away.

But even his memories betrayed him, for he forgot. He forgot what his life was once like – both before and after the incident. He had forgotten his sister's sweet voice, his mother's warm scent, his father's words of praise, his uncles words of wisdom. He would give anything to bring them back, and go back to the life he once had

But Ryou knew would that life would never be for him. He knew he did not fit in with the others. He knew his inability to love was what set him apart from all the others.

Ryou would often watch happy couples walk past his window, full of happiness and joy. Full of life. Full of love. He despised them for this. For their ability to love. For their ability to torture him, and call it love. But their love was different. It was tainted. It was evil.

It wasn't that much different from him. He was evil. He was tainted. He had killed. The memory of Otogi Ryuuji would always haunt his fears. Just like it would for any other murderer. They lived their lives guiltily, knowing that they had robbed someone else of the opportunity to live. Their chance to achieve. Their chance to fulfill their dreams. Dreams that would never be, thanks to them.

Ryou buried his head in his arms. He was indeed loveless. He would never again know the happiness that came from someone else's love. The happiness that came from their warmth… their comfort…

Ryou sighed. It was not good to dwell on those thoughts. To feel them and dream them was bad enough without thinking about them every waking moment.

Besides, he needed to check on the boy

I wonder where he's from… Ryou mused as he walked out of his room and went to the bathroom to get a cloth and wash away some of the grime on the boy. He looked so… filthy… yet familiar…

He did indeed look familiar to Ryou, yet he couldn't place where he could've seen him. It wouldn't have been in town, since he rarely ever went. It wouldn't have been in the newspaper, since he didn't get one. It wouldn't have been from school, or else he would have remembered. So… where?

Ryou sighed. Better to ask him when he woke up.

He walked into the lounge, humming some random song, then stopped. The boy was gone. He was no longer lying on his second-hand couch. He spun around…

…To see the barrel of a gun pointing straight at his chest.

"Do not move, or I will shoot," said the boy.

The gears in Ryou's brain were turning. He gasped, and dropped the towel he was holding. He remembered where he knew this boy from. He was on the news.

His name was Bakura Yabunashi.

He had murdered his parents.

---L-o-v-e-l-e-s-s---

Omg, Ryou cussed! Naughty, naughty Ryou!

Well, there goes the first chapter! Please go to the indigo coloured button and review me! Reviews make me write faster... n.n