I've always sort of wondered why it was that life led me to where I am now. All I've ever known in my life is anguish and suffering, that I assume it's only natural that I became numb. I can't even remember a single moment of true happiness in my old life. The first memory I have is the most traumatic thing I can imagine.
I didn't understand at the time. I couldn't figure out why my village was being burned and people were dying in front of my very eyes. As the soldiers stabbed and skewered people I had once known, I felt as if my heart was literally being ripped out. The faces of the screaming people are forever burned into my mind. Thousands of years later, and I can still remember their faces.
Naturally I ran and hid. I left the town and hid behind sand dunes. I was still too much in shock to even cry. I just waited until the soldiers fled from the village, and the fires stopped.
I didn't think I would be the only survivor; there had to be others. I crept through the burning rubble of my home, and tried not to scream as I avoided stepping in blood or various organs spilt on the street.
For a while I just looked for people still alive. Not long after I began my search did I come to the realization that I WAS the only one still alive. Tears flooded my eyes and I began running, searching for my parents. I flipped over any corpses with clothes resembling the ones my parents had worn, and every time I had to stifle my sobs as I saw the scorched faces of my neighbors and friends. Some I couldn't even recognize; their faces had been melted clean off.
I finally did find them. They must have been searching for me, because they were together near my old home. I recognized them instantly; no one else in our village of Kul Elna did anyone have hair as white as ours. My parents were lying on top of each other, coated in their and others' blood. I fell to my knees and cried my eyes out. I was young, and had just witnessed the genocide of my village. But all that I could register in my mind was my parents lying lifeless in front of me.
Once my tears slowed, I crawled up next to them, and wrapped their stiffening arms around me. I cried myself to sleep.
After that, I had sworn vengeance upon the Pharaoh that caused my suffering. I swore that I would make him suffer ten-fold what I had, and that I would take after my father, a thief, and one day steal the world.
I trained myself well. I started with loaves of bread from markets of neighboring towns. I learned stealth and quickness, and for every time that I was caught, I would punish myself with hot coals to my back. When the scorching embers hit my back, my hate increased for the pharaoh, dooming me to this fate.
I once got too cocky. It had been years since I had been caught, and I thought I could get away with anything. I was 17, and wanted to go after a bigger prize. I had wandered to Luxor, and came across the high priest of the town. He possessed a magnificent necklace, one with rubies and sapphires surrounding gold. My fingers twitched at the sight of it, and knew I had to steal it.
I followed the man for a day or two, learning when he was alone and when he took it off. In the dead of night, I slunk through his window. I towered over the sleeping high priest, and sneered at him. His face was illuminated in the candlelight, and showed weakness in his slumber. I despised all those in power, those who could stop pain and suffering but were too obsessed with wealth to do anything. They did not deserve their possessions. So I was going to take them from them. It was my duty to the ghosts of Kul Elna, whom I visited every so often.
I turned my attention to his alter, the necklace resting atop it. I smirked at how easy this was, and grabbed it in my hand. I shined it in the dim light, admiring the way the gems sparkled. I was still shining it, smirking, when an arm grabbed me around the shoulders, and a knife was pressed to my throat.
"So, thief, you think you can steal from me? You are sorely mistaken. I will not allow you to get away with this." He growled in my ear. My eyes had widened as far as they could go and my face twitched. I was screaming at myself in my mind. How could I have been so stupid as to linger? But I would have to punish myself later. Now, the man had spun me around to face him, and looked into my face. My lips twitched, and I tried not to show fear.
"You're young... You've yet to bear the scars of a weary life." He grabbed my jaw with his free hand, and pinned me to the wall with his torso. "Let this be a reminder of your failures, and let this serve as the beginning of what will promise to be many more. You are no King of Thieves." With that, he took the knife and sliced my face three times.
I clutched my face in agony, but neither said a word, nor cried out. The priest left to call for guards, thinking that I dare not escape with my injuries being what they were. He thought wrong. As soon as he was out of sight I leapt through the window, falling two stories. I hurt my leg upon landing, but paid it no mind as I called for my horse. I rode off to my cave, and tended to my gushing face wound for days before I left the cave.
He was right. I was no Thief King. I had much learning to do. It would be another three years before I was confident enough in my skills to rob a tomb. And another two years after that before I deemed myself ready to face the Pharaoh and his harem of filth.
Well. You know how that went.
As my soul was banished inside of the Millennium Ring, my hatred grew every day. I was now fused with the god of shadows, and therein had the power to send things and people to the shadow realm, and initiate shadow games.
Time passes differently in the ring. I laughed for what may have been 500 years, or it may have been only a minute. I don't know. What I do know is in the ring I plotted how I would vanquish the pharaoh in the land of his memories, for I knew he had also been sealed into a Millennium Item.
You have no idea the new kind of torment I endured in that accursed artifact. It is one thing to be a prisoner in your own mind, reliving the deaths of your entire village over and over again in nightmares. But it is quite another to be bodiless, unaware of your surroundings, and trapped in your memories forever. At least when I had a body, I could distract myself with reckless sex and thievery, to forget what I had endured even for a little while. But in the ring, the only peace I found was in envisioning the end of the pharaoh, in a way that would finally put my hateful bloodlust to rest.
I didn't want to become this revenge driven murderer. It just became my life. I dreamed as a child that I would be an apprentice to my father, and just live out peacefully in my village. Days came where all I did was try not to destroy myself. I had no hot coals in there; I couldn't punish myself even though I thoroughly deserved it. I had been contemplating how long I would have to endure the ruthless mental torture I was putting myself through, when I felt the ring being picked up.
I still had no form, so I couldn't appear to see whom decided to pick up the ring, but I felt something I hadn't felt for years. [At least I assumed it was years.] Hope. Hope that maybe the Ring was on its way to the rightful owner; that maybe I would once again have a body when I ridded the host body of its previous mental occupant.
The ring fell into the hands of the young Ryo Bakura. I knew the ring had come to the end of its journey the moment contact was made, and I smiled for the first time in centuries. He put the ring around his neck and I suddenly became aware of what was going on. The people around me were speaking an alien language to me, one I had never heard. I staggered, very confused. This wasn't Egypt at all. There was no sand, the clothes were strange and foreign, and there were lights and noises everywhere. I growled and cursed the ring for taking so long in finding the owner, for now I was lost in a time that looked to be thousands of years ahead of me.
I receded into the ring in anger, and resolved to learn the language, slowly. At the time, the boy was 13. Once I got a good look at him, I saw that he bore some of my characteristics. He had the same white hair as I did, and I saw the potential in his eyes and face to become what I was now. When he slept, I appeared beside him, ghostly form that I was, and watched him, trying to understand.
I looked at myself. I mirrored his clothes. I pulled at my hair in curiosity to note that it was the same length as his. This annoyed me at first, being used to having shorter hair that wasn't in my way as much. But I looked in a mirror to find that my hair was much wilder than his was. It reflected the madness I felt inside of me. I grinned evilly at myself, and knew that I had a body and could once again intimidate.
A year passed before I finally could speak the language with fluency. Once I understood what was going on, I decided to make contact with my host. I had grown from hatred of him, to affection, in my year of living in his head. He enjoyed card games [which I had learned from watching him. Duel Monsters was clearly a replica of the Ka monsters we had in Egypt, spurring me on further. Perhaps this alien world wasn't so alien after all.] and had little to no friends. I felt pity for him. His sister and mother were dead, and his father was never there. He almost reminded me of me as a child, except with a much brighter look on the world, which I envied. He became more to me than just a host or a vessel, even though I wouldn't verbally admit this to myself.
I revealed my presence to him one day. I still remember the terror in his face as I first spoke. That day, he had run home from his school, crying, for he had been beaten up. I almost did something, but I knew I would make things worse for the poor boy if I suddenly appeared to his aid. So I waited until he was alone in his house before I said a word.
He ran to his bed and lay there, and I appeared in my apparitional state, leaning against the wall next to him. I was going to wait until he noticed me there, but I thought he might not receive that very well. So I spoke.
"Have a poor day at school, Ryo Bakura?"
His shaking stopped and he lay perfectly still, frightened to paralysis. "Don't be afraid of me. I'm here to help you." I said, reaching out a hand to him. He slowly lifted his head to stare at me. He took in my hair and clothes before he screamed and flattened himself into the corner of the room furthest from me. My outstretched hand lowered and I rubbed the back of my neck with my other hand. "I kind of thought you'd react that way." I said.
He was still frightened of my wild appearance, transparency, and obvious look-alike nature. "Wh-who are you?" He asked, his voice shaking.
"That's a good question." I murmured. I had dreaded this inevitable question; I really didn't have an answer to give him. If I told him the truth, he might just die of fright, or have himself committed. So I tried something else. "Whom do I look like." I rhetorically asked. He mouthed the word 'Me'. I nodded. "I've been living in the Millennium Ring around your neck for the past year." I said. His eyes widened more [if that was possible] and examined the item. I took a few steps toward him. "You and I are a lot alike. To keep things simple, we can call me the manifestation of your inner darkness. I know you must have some in there. Your mom is dead, your father is gone, you are bullied at school, and you have nearly no friends." He looked at the floor and I advanced a few more steps, nearing him. "You can't go through all of that and still be a perfectly well adjusted person. Someday perhaps I will tell you my story. It is similar to yours, but I just wandered down the path of darkness. I am your dark side, Ryo Bakura." I said, reaching him.
He trembled slightly and looked me in the face. My eyes met his with sincerity. "I'll be here with you." I said gesturing to the ring that I could not hold. He looked up at me with tears swimming in his eyes. "I'll protect you." I said, putting a transparent hand to his cheek. He put one of his over mine.
"I must be crazy..." He said, still looking at me.
I smirked. "No more than I am, my light."
After that, he would talk to me after his schooling was over, and sometimes even during. I momentarily forgot my blood vengeance against the Pharaoh in bonding with my light. He confided in me that all he ever wanted was a friend who wouldn't leave him. I decided to try to help him.
He invited friends over to play a game with him. I turned the game to a shadow game, and trapped his friends inside of their pieces, forever. Ryo picked them up and yelled for me. I appeared at his side.
"Yami... wh-what did you do..." He breathed, holding the pieces close to his heart.
"You said you wanted friends who will never leave. Now they will never leave you." I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Isn't that what you wanted?"
He got up and faced me, angry tears filling his eyes. "No, that is NOT what I wanted!!" He screamed. My eyes widened and I stepped backwards a bit. "FIX THEM." He yelled.
"I can't." I said. "They're stuck there."
"How could you do this to me?" He asked me, setting the pieces down on his dresser. "I thought maybe we could be friends. Maybe I had found someone who could understand me, and help me. Clearly I was wrong." He refused to look at me.
"Ryo," I said, moving toward him. "I was trying to hel-"
"Don't even talk to me." He said with disgust. "I don't want to see you again, Yami." He took the ring off from around his neck and threw it at the wall. I winced at the sound of the metal hitting the plaster. "Leave me alone." He dropped to his knees and I disappeared into the ring.
I was hurt. I would never say it out loud, but I had just lost the only real friend I had ever had. With that, I vowed to irradiate any feelings left in my soul, save for anger and hatred. I no longer merely appeared next to Ryo, but I took over his body, using it for myself.
The boy transferred to Domino High and I watched as he quietly walked around the school. When I once would have helped or defended him, I merely laughed mirthlessly at his suffering. If I had to suffer, so did he.
He walked into one of his classes, and I saw the pharaoh. Or, whom I thought was the pharaoh at the time. I soon learned it was the reincarnation of the pharaoh, in the young boy Yuugi Motou. My hatred flared and I vowed to kill the boy.
I took over Ryo's body during the tournament for Duel Monsters that the idiot Pegasus was throwing. I had been with Ryo for two years now, and could imitate him fairly well. No one suspected a thing until I started that damned shadow game. I thought it would be easy to retrieve the Millennium Item from that schoolboy. I just needed all seven of them to summon Zorc again. But when I touched it, the very pharaoh I hated with every fiber of my being appeared. It took all the restraint I had not to beat him senseless, until he was goo in my hands.
I may have lost that card game, but I gained a valuable piece of knowledge. I gained knowing where the pharaoh was, and the location of two of the items. I gauged the idiot Pegasus' Millennium Eye out of its socket. He won't need it anyway.
I found the Millennium Rod in the hands of a very effeminate looking Egyptian one-day when he nearly ran me over. I didn't care for his intentions, until I learned that he too wanted to kill the pharaoh. He was a young boy, 16-17 maybe, and I knew I could easily manipulate him to do what I wanted. He was probably gay, so I could seduce him if I needed to.
I instantly hated him. He was Egyptian of course, so I wanted to kill him to stop the memories of my past from flooding into my head. But once I heard his story, and all the suffering he too had come to from the pharaoh, I felt a connection with him begin to develop. I still had every intention of taking his Millennium Rod and leaving him in a ditch if I had to, but at least I wouldn't loathe every second I had to spend with him.
Looking at it now, I wonder how I managed to hold myself together. I am so cracked. I am so broken. I am so defeated. I am evil. I have more hatred then one person should possibly possess. But somehow I carried myself. Somehow, I lived.
I wanted to kill myself when I was a thief. I wanted to kill the pharaoh and steal the world. That is what I told myself, and what I told those who followed me on tomb raids. But I knew on the inside, all I wanted was to die and end my eternal suffering. I wanted the pain to stop. I was willing to try anything to get it to cease tormenting me, but I couldn't find anything.
Even in Battle City I could still hear the screaming and tormented faces of my family and neighbors of Kul Elna. I could still feel their ghosts crying out to me for release. I promised them I would avenge them, I promised myself I would avenge my own suffering, and I promised Zorc I would return the items.
I promise things too much.
I know I should continue on my mission. I know I have things to do. But the evil in my heart is so great, it scares even me sometimes. I've wanted to cry when I think about the beast of a man I have become, but I can't even do that. I have erased the humanity in my soul. Maybe I could have loved Ryo or Malik, if I still had a heart. I could have focused on them instead of my unquenchable blood lust.
I make light of my situation. I say I steal for fun, or to gain respect. But when I steal things now, I'm merely trying to fill the void in my soul that I have created. I am convinced that with every new item I steal, the hole might fill itself. But it never does.
Am I crazy? Probably. I know I am evil. Do insanity and evil go hand in hand? Is human nature good, or bad? That depends on who you are, doesn't it. All I've ever seen in the world is suffering and despair. Maybe one day, when I steal the world, my suffering will stop. I hope it will with every slice of my knife into an innocent's stomach. Are they innocent? Or are they merely someone not yet convicted of their crimes. Or perhaps still I am just so numb that my hand is guiding itself out of habit, rather than pure intent. I miss my hot coals to my back. I miss setting a home of the Pharaoh's servants on fire as I laugh manically from a distance. I miss having feelings other than hatred. I've known hatred for so long that my personality is fading to nothingness.
I know in my mind that I can't win. I can't win my fight against myself. One day, I will be banished to hell for all eternity. And I welcome that. Nothing can be worse than the hell I live every second of my life. I wonder if my absence will be noticed. If I will be missed. But I doubt it.
My name is lost to me. But I will call myself Darkness.
I am Darkness. I am in hell.
I will save you a seat.
[A/N: I've wanted to do a Yami Bakura character analysis for a while now. What do you think? Should I make another, a sequel? I only got about a fourth into the show, after all. Do you think I got him accurate? Reviews would be appreciated.]