A/N: Originally, I wanted to upload this at the 10.09.08 (09/10/08) because it's such a nice date... alas, my internet broke. Damn technology. Anyway, I guess this becomes a tribute to the 11th September then. Though it wasn't meant to be, it suits it well I believe. Read for yourself!

Warning: Tendershipping fans are probably upset after this. This is about an abusive Bakura-Ryou relationship, in which they are not lovers. See for yourself.

Character death. Sad. Blood. Much blood. Abuse. Beating. Stuff like that.

nabiky: Happy Birthday, Alina-chan! Hope you're fine ;) Can't wait to see you again! - If you ever read this, feel free to review, I'll know who you are ;)


It wasn't fair. Not just. However, it was that way. And he couldn't do anything to change it. He didn't know how it would go on from there. Well, he actually did. He just didn't want to admit it.


With a gasp he knelt down. A hand hovered over his stomach, there where a old wound had been reopened. Above him stood his yami and stared down at him scathingly. Then he turned around with a snort and vanished in the darkness. The hikari slumped down. His long, white hair sticked to his face and was tinged crimson from all the blood at the tips. A black eye adorned his visage, accentuating his green eyes and his lips were split.

It was the start of summer break and the 17 years old had cooked dinner for his yami and himself, when said one came looking for him at a whim of his and beat him up. This time, he didn't take care, if the wounds would be seen, deep wounds which would leave his host scarred. Because the longest of holidays had started... It was long enough for the wounds to heal eventually and to make up stories about the scars.

However, Ryou felt weak and depleted. How would he survive the following six weeks? The beating he had gotten today had been far worse than anything he witnessed before. Supporting himself on his elbows and knees, he studied his palms. Blood ran across ivory skin, flowing between the pale fingers and dripping to join the blood puddle on the floor. Ryou collected all his will and stumbled towards the bath, where he threw up into the toilet bowl.

Then he slumped down onto the carpet beneath the wash basin, without having taken care of his wounds and was received by patiently waiting darkness, waiting for him. After an eternity – or were it mere seconds? Ryou wasn't sure – he woke up from his exhaustion induced sleep and propped himself up with the basin's support. Tired eyes returned his glance in the mirror and his black eye looked an alarming mixture of dark blue and light violet.

With difficulties, he swayed over to the first aid kit and started treating his wounds. Having taken care of them, the biggest one makeshift sewed and a few other big ones carefully disinfected, he searched the kitchen counters for cleaning utensils and an old rag. For long hours he sat on the living room carpet, trying to remove the blood stains before they dried. Then he soak the bathroom's rug in the bathtub with soapsuds.

When he set out for the kitchen, wore down by the beating and the cleaning, intending to it a bit, hopefully being able to contain it, he discovered all food gone. The fridge had already been half-empty earlier, but now the half-finished meal was gone, too. Tears in his eyes, he sank down at the door frame and fell asleep, haunted by nightmares.


Surrounded by darkness. A beneficially darkness. Not the hurting one. Not his yami. Friendly. Not mean. It protected him, the darkness. Security. Safety. No beatings. No pain. Peaceful silence. Calmness... Relaxation... Regeneration... and calmness...


Few hours later Ryou awoke suddenly, lying on the couch. A noise had woken him. Tired and disoriented he looked around. But then a shadow hovered above him. And the agony started anew, adding to the dull aching of the older wounds and blood ran down his ivory hands again, his screams echoing in the appartement and unconsciousness embraced him like a lover would.

In the early morning, Ryou reopened his eyes and examined the damage done. The carpet was as good as ruined, he would have to buy a new one. Though, how should he explain all the blood? His mind was fogged, keeping the thoughts at bay which he really needed that moment. Weakly he sat down on a chair. The wounds! He had to treat his wounds, if he didn't want to die!

However, when he tried to get up, he stumbled and fell down. Unconscious, he lay there for a while, before he startled awake and continued his journey to the bathroom crawling. But on the doorstep, he knew he wouldn't make it. His strength left him and he was unable to tend to his wounds. Unable to call for a neighbour or a doctor. Too little strength was left. Still, his will was strong.

The fog surrounding his mind lifted slightly, letting his thoughts get clearer. Because of this, the pain came back full force, making him feel numb. Bakura was a yami... and a yami needed a hikari as a vessel to survive and interact with the living. But, the next hikari which would be born for his yami, would take at least one thousand years. Yugi's yami had told him that not every hikari was the right one for a yami. He would, sooner or later, die.

Hence, it could take up to 3,000 years again till his yami, Bakura, walked the earth again and scaring everyone to the Shadow Realm and back. Still, would there be a Atemu, Yugi's yami, again to stop him? He couldn't leave the world with such a monster like his yami. And while his breathing was slowing down, he formed a plan...


The darkness called him. But he couldn't go yet. He had to finish his latest work. He was not useless. Not worthless. He would succeed. Soon. Just a little bit. A little more time. He would succeed... soon...


Ryou gasped and spat blood onto the floor. He had rolled himself into a fetal, more comfortable position. His yami wasn't back home yet, still he didn't know how much time he had left. The clock ticked. His very own death came closer, however, he collected all his strength, all his will-power. He knew how much he sacrificed to stop his yami. But if he didn't...! He didn't want to think of the consequences...

Hours went by. His yami was still away. Still, he had to wait for the right moment. Blood ran down his chin. No! He couldn't die yet. He had to stop his yami... And with that thought he took his last breath, while Bakura entered the apartment.


The darkness cried angrily. It didn't want to let him go yet. Not let him go into the light. But it wasn't as if he intended. He would stay. Forever. In the protective darkness. In the friendly, pretty darkness. Shadows watched over him. Not black. Violet.


He had done it. The moment his yami had been close enough and he died, he set free all his magic, power and will to do the impossible. He forbid another hikari to be born for his yami. He could hear Bakura's angry scream as realization hit him. As soon as Ryou died, the yami was banished into the Ring again. And he would never leave it again...

However, Ryou had paid a high prize. He would never see his family or friends on the other side. No. He went into the darkness and became a shadow as the shadows became him. Still he stayed pure, with a enlightened heart. He was like them but still different. They protected him and looked after him. Because they were darkness and he was light, a hikari. The darkness, also called The Shadow Realm, was there for him.


And with his sacrifice he created something new, something which had never existed before. Something resembling the 'Change of Heart' greatly, though it was only an angel, only light and the dark side was missing. His friends mourned over their friend, but he was of help to Yugi in some of his duels and his spell helped him to win more than once. He had stopped Bakura in more than one way. And he was proud of it.

Because he was not worthless. Because he was a hikari.


Well, that's it. How do you like it? The German version is avaiable at Animexx (dot) de, as always.

R&R!