Made To Heal

There was a feeling deep inside me that knew it was over. Anzu and I had been through horrible fights before, but this one topped them all. She told me that she shouldn't have to choose between friends and love… what she doesn't realize is that I gave up the two people that were close to me to be with her. I left my reincarnation and Malik—the saner of the two sides of him anyway.

She didn't lose anything. All of her stupid friends are still around her, taking what precious time I have with her away. When I tell her so, she just tells me that it wasn't right to have to choose between myself and the idiot of a pharaoh.

Furious, I continued down the street. Snow drifted down from the skies, and I glared miserably at the useless fluff. Nightfall was approaching, and the temperature was quickly dropping to the point that I can see my breath in the bitter cold air. Twirling a strand of my silver hair, I forced myself not to let my eyes wander around the couples chattering away as they walked by me. I was revolted at all the love, and only one phrase was clear in my head.

Love is fucking overrated.

I never needed love before—all that the stupid emotion did for me was bring so much misery. First, I was betrayed and back stabbed, and when I thought it was safe enough to give love a second chance, I end up with another bitch. Someone up there must have a hoot when some whore ends up ensnaring me into her damned trap. You know what, I'll just break up with the damned girl.

I gave up on you.
And your exercise.
And the world that I knew.

I glanced up at the clock tower, seeing that I had nothing better to do. It was fifteen minutes to eight o'clock… My hand unconsciously played with the ticket inside my pocket. Anzu had given me a ticket to her dance recital the other day—but why should I bother go? Looking across the street, I found the theatre staring right back at me. I didn't want to go, but somehow, the damned theatre hypnotized me to go. I saw a faint glow below, and the spikes of the Ring also pointed to the theatre. I wanted to toss it, but the Ring had never misled me before. (Unless you counted the time it told me to break into the palace and I nearly was executed.)

In the end, the theatre and the Ring won, and I grudgingly crossed the street. Making my way in, I gave the person at the door my ticket. He, in return, handed me a seat number and I made my way to my chair. I'll just watch the show and then tell her afterwards that it's over—or else, she'll just start blubbering and screw up her performance.

I caught eye of several people from agencies, and the rest of the audience consisted of three people. It wasn't much of a crowd, I though with slight amusement as I examined the three casual-looking people. A brunette leaned back casually in the back row seat while chattering away with the boy next to her, who dyed his hair a violet colour. Sitting behind me was a blonde, who had a notebook out. To get my mind off the fact that I was watching a play called The Travels of the Black Magician, I ranted to the girl about how annoying girlfriends can be. She, in return, laughed weakly, and retreated into her seat once the play had begun.

The first several minutes were boring, and I was tempted to leave. Everyone looked rather pathetic, but then Anzu came out. Wearing Black Magician Girl's battle attire, she leapt into the air, and twirled gracefully. She gave the audience a warm smile, and her hands met with the wretched dancer who was playing the Black Magician.

Then, I fell back on you.
Cause I need more time.
And I need an excuse.

I was mesmerized. Was this the same Anzu that I knew and grew to hate during my short walk after our argument—how can anyone dance like that? Her legs moved so gracefully, and she moved perfectly to the music. No ordinary person could move like that; she was exceptional. Despite all the voices in my head that told me that I was getting myself back into her snares, I fell in love with her again in those few minutes. I couldn't possibly leave her…

We are one.

I'm a thief, a liar.
An angel in the fire.
I'm a king, a drug.
The push that comes to shove.
I'm a freak, a star.
I'm everything you are.
I'm your Jesus, I'm your pride.

We're made to heal…

The hour was nearly over, and I was preparing myself to congratulate her. Grudgingly of course, or else she'd think that I was starting to turn soft and that I'm turning into a — I shudder when I think of this word — pansy, and then the worst happened. The angel had lost her wings, the gracefulness was gone as she stumbled and fell, creating a domino effect.

I would have never admitted that it was a good play… dance… thingie… recital, no matter what, but I had to admit that it was a perfect ending. The person playing Black Magician got the wind knocked out of him, which made me rather content, but most of the crowd didn't agree with me. The couple in the back shook their heads sadly, as if that one glorious moment, well, maybe not so much to them, ruined the whole play.

A child accompanied by one of the agents shrieked, "Do we get our money back?" I was disgusted, and so was the blonde that was sitting behind me. I heard her give a derisive laugh, and say a couple of not so pleasant adjectives before leaving the theatre. A person, probably one of the set crew people, hastily ran out and apologized as they drew the curtain, but I saw a glimpse of Anzu before then.

I depend on you.
For the wings of life.
And the air that you move.

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she was too proud of herself to let herself cry. The little boy's comment was what broke her down. If it were in the middle of the street, I'd have jumped on him and strangled the kid to death, but lucky for him we were in a theatre and I have to be civilized. I waited until the people left, and sneaked in to backstage.

"You stupid girl!" I heard a man yelling. "Your fucking mistake cost us the grant money! I don't want a failure like you in my class if you're going to screw up the moment you have to do well!"

I leaned forward, and I saw Anzu there, taking in all of his furious screams. She murmured a quiet apology, but that only infuriated him. I prowled closer to the two, and made cleared my throat when I thought I was a close enough yet safe distance away from Anzu and who I assumed was her teacher.

"What are you doing backstage?" he snapped, giving me the eye. "We already told the audience that we're not—"

"Bakura!" Anzu gasped before the pathetic excuse of a man finished his sentence. Irritated, I nodded, and the man sneered.

"You know this pathetic girl?" he asked, not even bothering to look at Anzu anymore. Who the hell did he think he was talking to? "I hope you're not aiming to waste my time defend her. No one in their right mind would defend her after that horrible mistake."

And I defended you.
For this one last time.
For the nerves you abuse.

I thought for a moment. "You're right," I said, after thinking my answer through. I heard Anzu give a wail of surprise and betrayal, just as I expected. So soon to assume the worst, I thought with amusement. "No one in their right mind would defend her."

He eyed me for a moment before saying, "You're smarter then you look."

"You know what? Let's have a small drink before you go back to yelling at her — you see, I don't plan to stay long," I drawled casually. I pulled out a small bottle of liquor, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her terrified expression, but her teacher seemed absolutely delighted.

"I like the way you think."

I smirked. "So do I," I said haughtily as I smashed the bottle against the wall. The tip of the bottle shattered, shards of the glass cut my hand, and the remainder of the shards landed on the floor with a soft jingle sound. Dropping the bottle, I allowed the alcohol spill into my wounds, letting the liquid sting as it touched my minor wounds. What he said afterwards was none of my concern, and I had my knife out quicker then he could blink. I slit part of his neck first, before stabbing him in the abdomen, and blood decorated the pearly white tiles.

With a smirk, I said, "Happy? You're going to a place where you will be very well known…" I was about to cackle before giving him a kick, but then I remembered that Anzu was still here. Wanting to spare her of any nightmares of nausea, I left it at that.

I'm a thief, a liar.
An angel in the fire.
I'm a king, a drug.
The push that comes to shove.
I'm a freak, a star.
I'm everything you are.
I'm your Jesus, I'm your pride.

"You're the only one that showed up for my recital, you know," she said quietly, her eyes still staring at the dying body of her teacher. A little voice inside of my head reminded me that I was the one that told her 'friends' the wrong date, and I tried not to look surprised. Then, she looked up at me and said with a slight mocking tone. "… And you said that no one would stick up for me."

"Stupid girl, I said no one in their right minds. Which would explain why all of your friends stick up for you… they're all touched in the head…"

We're made to heal…

Anzu laughed quietly, quite derisively actually at first, but her being happy was all that really mattered in the end.

The End —

I do not own Yuugiou, the song "Made to Heal" by Our Lady Peace, nor do I fully own this story. It's a revised version of the original "Made to Heal" by Touzoku-ou Bakura, who was known as Spirit of the Ring at the time, and I have contacted him for permission. This is inspired by reading through many old stories that friends and former friends have sent me to look over, and is dedicated to, of course, the original writer of this story!

"Made to Heal" was originally written as a special present to Soul Union, a Yami Bakura x Anzu shrine that unfortunately closed later on, so it should be a treat to those who like his writing and his sweet romance plots.

Constructive criticism and flames are more then welcome, and any reviews will be well appreciated as long as it isn't just plain old useless criticism. So, please, if you have a little bit of time, leave a review.

Innocence Within