Back again! Sorry about the several eras that have passed since my last post! I've been attempting to make Malik behave and failing dramatically. Anyways, since there are four days left before I leave home, here's a leaving present.

Author: Kuroi Ruusu
Title: Kagami (Mirror)
Summary: Ryou misses his sister. A broken mirror causes reflection in more ways than one.
Disclaimer: If I owned him, his Yami would kill me.

A/N: I made myself cry whilst writing this. Yep, it's angsty. Anyone not into angst or with overly protective instincts towards Ryou-chan should probably stop here. Anyone else, please proceed. Oh, and listen to Hello by Evanescence whilst reading it. The song was on constant repeat whilst I was writing, and I think it reflects the mood rather effectively. Enjoy!

KAGAMI

"Oi," his Yami said casually, ghostly form sauntering into the bedroom. "What are you doing?"

Ryou froze. He could feel the blood-red eyes upon his back, see the folded arms and cruel smirk in his mind as vividly as if the spirit were standing right before him. "Yami-sama," he whispered, still not looking round. "O...ohayo gozaimasu..."

"I asked what you're doing, Yadonushi," said the cold, hard voice with a hint of impatience. Ryou blushed a pale cherry-blossom pink beneath the veil of white hair over his eyes.

"The... the mirror broke..." he said softly. He did not dare to venture the opinion that it was the spirit who had smashed it, no more than he dared to look round and meet the Tomb Robber's crackling fiery eyes.

The cold voice spoke again, like ice-water sliding down his spine. "I can see that, Yadonushi. Why are you cleaning it up?"

It was a test, he knew. The spirit could just as easily look into his mind and read the answer. Ryou had no mental barriers with which to stop him. The question was whether he could give the right answer – the one that the spirit wanted to hear.

"S-someone could get hurt..." he stuttered. In his mind he saw the shattered glass like a dusting of crystal beads on pale skin, saw the spiders' webs of crimson stringing them together, saw the closed eyes and the expression of sleep on her child's face.

"She's not coming back, Yadonushi."

Ryou said nothing. What could he say? That he wanted her to know that he still thought about her? That he couldn't forget how much he had loved her? The only images he had left were broken, cracked and shattered, a rain of glass like morning dew and skin as pale as snow dotted with carnelian red.

"Stop thinking about her."

"G-gomen nasai, Yami-sama."

Ryou hung his head, unable to hold its weight any longer. He heard the crunching of glass and the unnecessary rustle of fabric as the spirit crossed the room. It could have been done silently, he knew. The spirit wanted to announce his presence.

"Look at me," the voice commanded. Slowly, Ryou raised his head, his eyes on a level with the spirit's chest. He could not look up any further – eye-contact was for equals, and he was by no means the equal of his other half. Silver hair hung about his face. Silver like the shards of mirror.

A bright, hot pain flared in his hand, and he realised that he was clutching a dagger of glass tightly. How easily it cut through tender human flesh. Had it been that easy for her? Had she noticed as the crystal slid into her skin, drawing out her life-blood?

"Yadonushi!" snapped his other.

Ryou winced. He hated making people angry. His father had always been angry, always scowling, never looking at his own son. "Sumimasen..." he whispered, his voice a ghost in the near-silence.

"She won't come back, Yadonushi. Stop dreaming. I've seen the end. I know what happens, and there's nothing. Only the endless abyss, no light, no dark, no heat or cold. Nothingness. She won't be reborn, she won't come back as a spirit. She's dead."

Ryou did not reply. He could see the crimson on his hand reflected in the shard of mirror.

"Even as we speak, her flesh is rotting in the ground somewhere. She is food for the worms and the maggots now. Forget her."

"No..." Ryou protested. But it was a faint-hearted effort. His Yami was always right. His fingers continued to sift through the fragments of mirror, now leaving a scarlet trail in their wake. Was that her last sight? Paper-white skin and crimson ink and a thousand reflections shining so silvery bright?

What if tears were made of glass? If that were the case, he had cried many broken mirrors over the years.

Could she really be gone? Were all the letters he had written – late at night, when the world slept and the mirrors reflected only starlight – were they all meaningless? The spirit was wrong, he told himself.

But the spirit was never wrong.

"Stop it, Yadonushi. That's enough now."

Faint sounds of trickling water beneath his fingers as the glass shards slid together and apart again.

"I said, stop it!"

Rough hands seized his wrists. Fragile bone threatened to crack like the mirror, like birds' wings in a predator's mouth. He could see the sparkle of glass embedded in his skin. He could see her face: the face of a child, and the sparkles that should have been glitter from the wings of a butterfly.

"Gomen nasai, Yami-sama."

"Baka. You're bleeding."

"G-gomen nasai."

The spirit looked at him with a kind of resigned disgust. He felt his shoulders crack as he was pulled to his feet. He knew that the physical contact was unnecessary, but couldn't bring himself to question it. Numb, he felt his body led towards the window and seated on the sill.

"Yadonushi no baka," the Tomb Robber sighed, examining one of his hands in the bright daylight. Although there was no glass, the ghostly flesh was lacerated with a glistening net of scarlet lines. Ryou looked away.

A sharp, minute pain shot through his fingers. From the corner of his eye, through the silver veil of hair, he saw his darker half use long fingers to extract some of the larger shards. No one had done that for her. He imagined her body, lying tiny and broken on a cold trolley, still glittering with signs of her death.

"What was so special about her, anyway? Why can't you forget?" The Ring-spirit's voice was sharp like the glass, like a frost in winter, so bitterly cold.

Ryou could not answer.

"Does it hurt, Yadonushi-yo? To think of her lying in the cold ground, rotting? She doesn't know you miss her. No one else cares. She won't remember you or hear your prayers."

Pain flared as the nails dug deeper, as the splinters of broken glass slid further into his flesh. "I have to remember her..." he whispered.

And he did remember. He remembered all too well the broken girl, the crumpled wreckage of her life, the faint blue tinge of her forever-frozen lips. Her mouth would never smile again. Her eyes would never sparkle; the only glint left in them was artificial.

Again the spirit sighed. "That's enough now, Yadonushi. Sleep. Forget."

A freezing cold hand was laid over his eyes, and Ryou felt his soul leaving his body. He was in a room as dark as night, but somehow escaping black. On the ceiling, myriad burning stars shone with distant light. In his hand – now free from wounds – rested a child's doll. The floor was invisible, but on it was scrawled in shimmering sliver script a letter.

The words were meaningless. He had written a thousand like them, and would write a thousand more. Without looking, he knew what they would say:

I love you.

I miss you.

If only...

Alone in the silence, Ryou clutched the broken doll to his chest. Beads of crystal glass slid down his cheeks.

"I'll never forget you," he promised, "Amane."

OWARI

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