It was cold.
Ryou Bakura sat up, his body feeling numb and distant. He looked around.
The world was dark.
Shivering, he stood up, straining to see if anything had changed since the last time he was here. Nothing had. Just as always, Ryou was in his soul room, the place he had come to know as a second home.
He was alone.
Floating candles burned dimly, but seemed to radiate no warmth. In the center of the room stood a game board, displaying figurines of himself and all of his friends. He smiled. Perhaps he wasn't so alone.
But his heart still ached.
To his left, a picture frame floated, bearing the image of a small, blue-haired child who beamed with happiness. Amane. Every time Bakura thought of her, his heart leapt a little. Then the weight of knowing it was just a picture would fall on him again. He would have given up everything just to see her one more time.
This wasn't unusual.
Ryou sat at the game table and began to arrange an RPG for himself. It was boring, yes, but there was little to nothing to do in his barren soul room. As usual, he chose the White Mage as his avatar– he would be both the Game Master and a player. For
For years, Ryou would sometimes spontaneously appear in this room, and when he left hours later he had little memory of what had happened. Sometimes he would awaken to find dried blood on his clothing. Other times he would have new game pieces. And sometimes he would hear a dark voice, urging him to continue to play…
He could not – would not – argue, for this voice scared him. What scared him even more was what happened to anyone he befriended. They would drop into comas, never to awaken again… Ryou shivered at the memories. It would do no good to dwell on the past. The only choice was to move forward.
The only option was to move on.
But he could not move forward. All of the pain he felt, all of the helplessness would sooner or later overcome him, and then he would reappear in this room. His sister, no longer there when he came home. His mother, in the same plane of existence as her. The countless lives that were ruined because of whatever would happen while he was in this room, while the other Bakura was in control…
Ryou Bakura reflected, as he sat there, playing alone in his cold, dark soul room; would he ever have peace? Would anyone?
And then he went back to his quiet game, where he could pretend that everything was perfect in the world. Where everything was like it was supposed to be.
My first one-shot. I thought I'd give writing a Ryou fanfic a try - please respond and tell me what you think! And don't beat around the bush, I've only written a few of these and I really want some constructive criticism. I know I'm not all that great, but hopefully I'll be able to get better with some help. :-)