A/N: I really need to stop writing new stories... but I just couldn't help it! I came up with this after I sprained my knee very badly and had to limp for a few days, and I started writing this, and yeah... I have the first five chapters written out right now, so I'll be able to post a new chapter every week for at least five weeks XP

Hope you enjoy! :)

"You do know that this "school" thing is a stupid idea, right? Mother?" I ask her as we drive back from the grocery store. She always likes me to come along to make sure I don't get into any trouble, and she also values my opinion on what food we should eat for the week.

"I think it's a fine idea," she tries again to convince me. I just roll my eyes as she continues with, "Going to a real school will be good for you. You can't be homeschooled all your life, you know."

"It's been working so far," I mutter before saying louder, "All the kids will just make fun of me – you know that."

She sighs; an utterly pitiful sound. "Ryou, you need to learn how to be sociable, and that's not something you can learn through homeschooling."

"I'll be sociable when all of the other kids my age start being more understanding and stop being immature, spoiled, brats."

"Not everyone is like that."

"Everyone my age is."

"Could you please just try this?" she asks, looking at me sadly. "For me?"

Oh, we're playing the "For me?" Card, are we? Well, two can play the Card game.

"Could you please trust me when I say that this will just be a horrifying experience for me?" I ask her, trying desperately not to get too mad. "These stupid brats only look at appearances. They'll take one look at me and how I walk and practically shun me – it's just the natural order of high school, mother. I've seen the television shows; these kids are ruthless!"

"But those shows also show the mature kids like you, don't they?" she retaliates. "You can make friends with those and manage an enjoyable high school experience."

"But the mature ones are labeled "weird" and are social outcasts; you actually want your child to be labeled as such?"

"You told me you hated labels and thought they were a waste of human intelligence."

"They are, but I still have to play by society's stupid rules until things change, don't I?"

She sighs and closes her eyes for a brief second before opening them (she still needs to see to drive, after all). I take the hint and keep quiet, leaning my head against the car window and looking out at the road passing me by.

I suppose by now you're wondering what's wrong with me, or why this school thing is such a big deal. And, if you're not, then you've kind of come to the wrong place, haven't you? Anyways, the thing is that I was born with a disability; the tendons in my right knee are extremely weak. I can't move them a lot or put too much pressure on them without feeling blinding pain. Which means, yes, I walk a little slow and funny because I have to pretty much drag my right leg everywhere lest I bend it too much. Unfortunately, in this ignorant society, walking a little funny is like giving teenagers permission to make fun of you and even bully you.

Isn't it sad that I haven't even attended a real school in eight years and already know how horrible it is?

"Please, Ryou," my mother spoke up again, timidly this time. "I need you to do this…"

"Why?" I ask. "To teach me humility, and that the world really is a horrible place where all the good people go to die?"

"No, to –"

"I don't want this!" I start yelling. My temper ran just a little too high on the thermometer and might have broken the top off. "I never asked for this useless limb!"

"I'm sorry –"

"You better be sorry! 'Cause it's your fault!" I yell before I can stop myself.

My mother clenches her teeth. "It's not my fault you were born this way."

"What? You think I asked to be like this? I came from your womb, mother. What did you do while you were pregnant with me?"

As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to take them back. I was going to, but then she steps on the brakes and squeaks to a stop at the side of the road. "Get out," she says quietly.

"… What?"

"Get out!" she screams, her voice cracking and tears falling freely from her eyes.

I blink and bite my bottom lip. I told you that two could play the Card game, but I really played a bad hand this time. I open the door and step out, shutting it lightly behind me.

My mother cracks my window open a little, so I turn around to look at her angry and sad expression. "I'm sorry you were born," she says before driving off with a drawn-out squeak. I look down, fighting tears myself. I know she didn't mean it in the way of "My life would be better off without you" … She just meant it in the way of "You hate your life? Then I wish you had never been born so you wouldn't have to deal with it." But… she just sounded so broken, and I really regret saying that to her. She's always tried her best to help me, take care of me… what kind of son am I, saying something like that to her? I really need to watch my stupid temper; it's like I'm a whole different person when I'm mad.

I sigh before stepping with my left leg on the cemented sidewalk and lifting my right leg in front of me. It's gonna be a long walk to my house. If I'm lucky, only a couple of strangers will give me funny looks and judge me.

Evidently, I'm not lucky.

One stare. Another. A whole group of stares. One hushed, "What's wrong with that boy?" One pitying stare. One little kid copying the way I walk, but I don't mind that one too much since he's too young to know any better. The mother taking her child roughly away from my general direction like I'm some diseased patient does bother me, however, and I start to feel mad.

Four more stares. One quick glance. One person looking extremely uncomfortable at the sight of me. Why is it that people can't handle seeing the less fortunate in this world? That sight always guarantees a little heat in my anger thermometer. And considering it's already been broken about a hundred times already, it's prone to break even faster.

Another stare. One "Poor boy…" Haven't heard one of those in a while. Two scrunched eyebrows. One over-emotional teary-eyed person unafraid to look at me. Oh God, please don't come over here and start talking to me… Oh, good, he's gone. I always hate talking to the ones who feel like I'm their fault; they always say the oddest things.

After three more weird looks, however, I'm getting fed up with this stupid pity party and try to walk normally. You know, bending my knees in the air and all that.

Big mistake.

As soon as it's bent and gravity presses against it, numbing pain shoots up and builds right in my knee, surprising me and making me cry out. I put it back on the ground right away, grinding my teeth, closing my eyes, and hoping it'll go away soon. I forgot just how much this thing hurts when I try to do anything more with it than limp… And as if the gnashing, flashing pain wasn't enough, now everyone was giving me even weirder, more pitying looks.

Great… just fantastic.

I start walking normally again. … Well, normal for me, anyways, and let me tell you just how slow I walk compared to other people. It's like I'm a turtle. No, a three-legged turtle. Hobbling along on my good legs, just trying to get along and avoid predators. Unfortunately, I'm a rare breed of turtle who is at the very bottom of the food chain, where even insects can take a stab at me. At least I'm still ahead of the micro-organisms, right? Haha, a little humor gets you a long way, sometimes.

Anyways, with such a slow pace, and so many people out this afternoon, I'm guaranteed a parade of looks and attention I don't want or need. With this in mind, I attempt to go a little faster, almost like a little run. It feels pretty cool, actually! It's like I'm using my right leg as a springboard and landing carefully on my left leg. I've never really tried to walk fast before; my mom always matched my meticulous pace so that I wouldn't feel so bad about it. But now, hell, I'm walking like this all the time!

… At least, that's what I think right before landing wrong on my foot and tumbling to the ground in a whirlwind of pain and humiliation. Geez, talk about trying something new and failing.

Oh, great; face-planted on the cold cement and now I'm crying. Just perfect. Well, there's really no reason for me to stand up, is there? Nope. None at all. Might as well just lay here and die, since I hate my unfair life so much. Maybe I should have never been born. Maybe everyone would be better off without me; then all these people wouldn't have had to look at a cripple, and my mother wouldn't have a useless, good-for-nothing son wasting all of her and dad's money, and I wouldn't… I wouldn't have to deal with all these stares, and… the world. This horrible, unforgiving, cruel world that treats people like me with unkind words and pitying stares and –

"Are you okay?" I hear a voice ask me. Wow, cold this guy be any more stupid?

"Gee, I'm face-down on the cold ground; what do you think?" I snap back without lifting my head. Just go the hell away; I don't need your help or your pity or whatever else you feel like you have to give me.

I hear a warm chuckle. "Well, maybe you'd feel better if you stood up?"

"Huh, didn't think of that," I reply sarcastically. "You must be a genius."

Now I hear a laugh… weird. I can't remember the last time someone's laughed at something I said. Not even my family… "First time I've ever heard someone call me a genius. Thanks, even if it was sarcastic as hell."

"… You're welcome." I glance up finally, looking at the guy who was actually talking to me like I was a normal person. I was surprised to see that he was incredibly tan, blonde, and looked around my age, if not exactly my age. Ooh, and he has purple eyes. Cool.

"So, you gonna get up any time soon?" he asks, tilting his head slightly and smiling… kindly, at me.

"Yeah, I guess so…" I say, finding that I'm just a little pleased that he didn't offer to help me up. Which is kind of weird, though; did he not see how I was walking? Will his whole attitude change once I do start walking? Will he start acting sorry for me once I reveal my disability? I have no idea what to think of this stranger as I get myself up, keeping my right leg as straight as I can manage. No one's ever acted like this to me before… it's refreshing. And nice. And I don't want it to go away…

"There you are. Feel any better?" he asks, still smiling that bright smile of his.

I nod slowly. "Yeah. Thanks." Why am I thanking him? He didn't help me up.

"You're welcome. Name's Marik," he says, holding out one hand for me to shake.

I look at the hand before smiling and looking into his eyes. "Ryou," I say as I grasp his hand firmly and shake it.

He chuckles a bit and puts his hand back in his pocket. "Nice name. Can I walk with you for a bit?"

"If you want," I reply, smiling. I realize I should probably be more cautious; my mother always said that if a stranger acted too nice to you, then they were most likely plotting something sinister, like kidnapping, or rape, but this kid looked my age! He couldn't be planning anything like that, right? Besides, once I start walking he'll probably be itching to go away and forget all about the sorry cripple he met on a walk. Or maybe that's why he's targeting me, because I can't walk very fast. Hm…

We start walking, and I start investigating him. He doesn't seem concerned about the way I'm walking at all… in fact, he's matching my pace. But he does it in a way that almost seems normal, like he always walks that slow. Not like my mom, where you can tell it's annoying for her to have to walk anything slower than a speeding jet.

"Where ya headed, anyways?" he asks, obviously just trying to make conversation. I commend him for not going for the obvious question of, "What's wrong with your leg?"

"Home. You?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I'm not sure… I just wanted to walk. Maybe I'll go to the Rec-Plex."

"Oh, cool…" We fall into a silence, but for me it's a little unnerving. I've never really… talked like this before. Not to a stranger, and definitely not to anyone my age, since most of the brats can't get past my bum leg. And now I'm starting to wonder… does my knee not bother him at all? Does he not notice it? Does he just not care? What? I have to find out! "So," I start, swallowing a bit. I can't believe how nervous I am just by talking. "I bet you're wondering what's wrong with my leg, huh?"

"Hm, not really," Marik says, shrugging. "But it seems to be bugging you, so you can tell me if you want."

I give a little chuckle, and I feel like smiling when I realize that I'm actually happy right now, and happiness doesn't come easy to me. Sure, I'd laugh and smile and try to act upbeat, but I was never really happy with anything. Not really… But now, I feel a happiness I haven't felt since… hell, I can't even remember. It feels warm, and nice, and… I can't even describe it. I just want to keep it. "The tendons in my right knee are really weak," I explain, but I pause when he gives a little chuckle. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just…" he lets out a short laugh. "How many of the other brats our age do you think even know what a tendon is?"

I stare at him in wonder for a bit before a wide smile erupts on my face. He even calls teenagers brats, just like I do. "Like I've said to myself many times before, the ignorant brats would probably think it's an appetizer."

He howls with laughter. "Y-you mean one of those fancy-schmancy ones that they can't pr-pronounce?" he continues the insult, "You're probably r-right!-!"

I laugh along with him for a little bit before looking down at my knee. "Anyways, since the appetizers in my knee are weak, I walk a little different –"

"Don't be modest," he interrupts with a mischievous smile, "you walk like a mutated elephant on steroids."

A few seconds of silence pass before we both start laughing, and I laugh so hard that my side starts to hurt. "All right, f-fine, yes," I try to say through the contagious laughter. I can't believe that I'm actually laughing at myself… Although I guess I spend so much time laughing at the foolishness of other people that it's about time I start laughing at the foolishness of myself, hm? "Like I was saying, this means I walk like…" more laughter, "a mutated… elephant? Really? On steroids, and it also means I can't bend it or put a lot of pressure on it."

"Dang, that sucks," Marik barely sympathizes, still chuckling. "Well, at least you can walk, even if it is a little "different.""

It takes me a little while to respond. "Yeah… I suppose I should be glad I can still walk."

Marik nods. "There's always someone better and worse off than you. We can learn from both, but only if we want to."

I stare at him with respect now. "You sound very wise," I tell him, and I mean it too. I don't think I've ever met a more fascinating individual. Granted, I haven't really "met" a lot of people other than nurses and random people who decide to talk to the poor, limping boy, but still. I always took the brats my age to be stupid and materialistic, not like him.

He just scoffs at my praise. "Try telling adults that a fourteen-going-on-fifteen-year-old is wise; they'll have a good laugh."

I chuckle a bit. "Adults should really give us brats more credit."

"Ah, so you consider even yourself a brat?" he asks with mirth, raising an eyebrow with a grin on his face. "I guess I do, too."

I smile at him before we continue walking at a leisurely pace. This is a really new concept for me – someone talking to me like I'm just a normal kid. I always thought that was the kind of thing that only happened in books or movies, not in practical, real-life situations. It's… great. Refreshing. Very refreshing.

So, now my question is, how long is this going to last?

"Hey," Marik speaks up, glancing at me. "Do you wanna work out with me?"

"… Work… out?" I echo, staring at him blankly.

He chuckles a bit. "Yeah. You know, pump some iron, work those muscles?"

"I'm familiar with the concept," I tell him, "It's just… I've never really done that before, what with my leg and all…"

"Well, you can still do upper body," he says, holding a hand up to his chin and looking at the sky. "Yeah, you should still be able to work on your arms. So, what do you say?"

"I don't know…" My mother will probably be worried if I don't come home within the next hour or so…

"Come on, if anything happens to you I'll be right there to call an ambulance or whatever."

"Well…" I hesitate, "… Sure, why not?"

A/N: This is actually the longest chapter for this story (so far). So yeah, a lot shorter than my usual chapters, but it works :D

I tried combining Ryou and Yami Bakura's personalities into one here. Kind of a balancing act on my part, but I think I did a good job...?

Please review if you liked it or have some constructive criticisms! :)

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!