Just an idea that stuck. Reading Anne Rice, the Witching Hour again (Amazing book BTW) And considered what she said about spirits, and how that might relate to the spirits in this context.

They feed off a "Witch" or medium, and often attach themselves to one witch, or a family of witches, or an object, or a place. The ghost of someone that once lived, they often forget who they were. They can hold their form, when the attention of a witch is on them. They use a witches' focus, pattern, water, blood, and their surroundings to gain in strength. They create their form either by projecting the image of themselves into the minds of a Witch, or by gathering particles from the air around them to create a solid, yet temporary body.

I do not own The Witching hour, and you should definitely check it out. I also don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. I do, however, own the specifics of this plot, beyond the general.


/Do It!/

Ryou trembles, as he draws the images of power in charcoal on the table. Charcoal prepared of blood and rum, weeks ago. Cold sweat runs down his face, his eyes flashing nervously about. The source of the voice is here, he can feel it. A presence in the apartment beyond himself.

A pyramid, the eye, the pentacle. Across the table, arranged carefully are many seemingly random items. A thin layer of water is sprayed evenly over the entire arrangement. Four tall wine glasses substitute chalices. One contains dirt. One water. Another it empty. The third is half filled with gasoline, half with fire. A headless rat, dried with tail curling, sits across the tabletop from its missing skull, cleaned of all flesh. Many herbs are tied in bundles with strips of black cloth.

/What are you waiting for?/

Bakura, invisible, malevolent, watches the proceedings. Incorporeal, the spirit can do nothing without his host. His witch.

Ryou stammers through the beginnings of a spell, in Latin. The dead language in more than one way.

/Say it right, you fool. Focus on my form as you speak. Concentrate, bring me together!/

The innocent one clears his throat, and starts again, more firmly, his accent coaxing the words into a careful rhythm. The particles that make up the entity that is Bakura swirl, thicken. His form, transparent now, is visible for all those with the eyes to see.

/The next step, quickly!/

The ghostly apparition wavers, its substance thinning and thickening with the increasingly rapid beat of Ryou's heart. The pale boy pauses, his breath caught in his throat. He can see it now. No more doubts, unless he really was insane… Unless this was just another stage of deepening madness. No matter. Ryou's jaw sets, firming with resolution. No point going back now.

Ryou holds herbs over the flame, one by one. The smoke rises, wafting through the darkened apartment. Strange how any room can appear eerie when lit only by flame, flickering over mundane objects, making them surreal and strange. The spirit gains in substance, taking the smoke in, breathing it. His physical strength swells, his form thickens.

Next a scroll goes into the flames, the words written upon it in ancient hieroglyphs darkened and carried on the eddies of air to the spirit.

Stable now, holding together, he grins.

/The rat, if you please, landlord./

Ryou winces as he gingerly lifts the body of the rat between two fingers, by the tail. He holds it over the flames, almost gagging as the stench of burning flesh fills the room. The flames rise up the dry husk, licking at Ryou's delicate fingers. He gasps, dropping the rat into the chalice, where to his astonishment, it is completely consumed. The thick black ash cloud is drawn to Bakura, mingling with his own makeup. Really there now, anyone could see the pale, white-haired fiend. He inspects his hands, a look of concentration on his face.

"The last step, if you don't mind?" He says aloud for the first time, his voice dry and cracked.

Ryou's trembling starts anew, as blood rushes from his face. He looks at the long, wickedly pointed knife before him. He lifts it, hand shaking so badly he can barely hold the weapon, much less use it.

"Pathetic, as usual. Allow me." Bakura snatches the blade, wields it with obvious glee. He takes Ryou's hand in a mercilessly strong grip, pinching a nerve, forcing the fist open.

Widening in panic, the light's eyes watch the knife as it slices through the flesh of his palm. Blood trickles into the chalice, puffing into nothing. Bakura releases the captive, leaving Ryou to nurse his injury, curled up and sobbing.

"Its not permanent, but it will do. In fact, this might just be better than a real body. What do you think, Landlord?"

Ryou sits, staring in shock at his bleeding hand.

Bakura grips him by the collar, glaring daggers into the averted eyes. "I asked what you think."

Ryou's mouth opens and closes like a fish on the deck of a ship, metal barb through it's cheek. His mind began then to comprehend what he'd done, what this could mean for him. Thus far, Bakura could control his body, torment his mind, hurt his friends, but never actually physically hurt him. Now…

The spirit smiled, reading the thought from the other's mind. Experimentally, he punches Ryou in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Gasping for air, the weaker drops to the floor, released. Bakura kicks him, bruising his side, forcing him to roll.

"Why are you doing this?" Ryou begs, his voice a breathless hiss of pain.

"Because I can, my little plaything." Bakura said, before dissolving and vanishing back into the confines of his ring.

...

Ryou limped to school the next day. It would take more than a few bruises to make him miss class. Heavy bags hung under his eyes; he'd been unable to sleep. He'd watched as the spirit practiced appearing and vanishing, holding his new form for longer and longer spans of time in random locations. Ryou tried not to look at him, in the high window of that house, sitting on a bench calmly, standing on the sidewalk across the street. Ryou spots his sometimes friends and turns abruptly to avoid them. The last thing he needed was for them to see him like this. He made for a short wall, designed to keep the grass from a lawn from intruding on the sidewalk.

Suddenly, an invisible leg shot out in front of him, completely destroying his balance. He bashed his face directly into the aforementioned wall. His cry of pain and astonishment captured the attention of everyone within hearing distance, including…

/The hero squad cometh./ Bakura comments silently, smug. A strong sense of foreboding overcomes Ryou. He's planning something.

"Ryou, what happened?" A little crazy- haired kid asked, bursting out of his group of friends and coming to a halt in front of Ryou, eyes widened more than usual with concern and curiosity.

"You just tripped, over nothing! Are you ok?" Yugi offered a hand to help Ryou off the ground.

"I'm fine Yugi, really." Ryou played innocent, though his voice was strained. He took the offered hand. A sudden dizzy spell forced him to sit on the offending wall, as a streak of blood runs from a scrape on his forehead.

"Your hand, it all bandaged up…" Yugi points out, looking at the amateur job Ryou had done with some gauze and tape.

"Oh, its nothing. I cut myself chopping tomatoes." Ryou says with feigned nonchalance.

The rest of the 'friendship squad' was drifting over, following Yugi around like a…

/Like a rank odour/ Bakura chimed in

/That's an unpleasant way to put it, and not true./

/Is./

"Ryou, earth to Ryou…" Yugi was saying, waving his hand in front of his occasional friend's face.

"I'm sorry, I was just…" Ryou searches for an explanation. A shadow of suspicion crosses Yugi's face.

"It wasn't… He's not back, is he?"

Ryou shakes his head, firmly. No. But the fear in his eyes tells a different story.

"I'm just tiered, Yugi. We had better get to class, or the professor might be angry."

Yug let the matter drop reluctantly, a pang of pity moving him as Ryou limped his way to the school door.

"Hey, at least let me take you to the school nurse. Your head…" Yugi says tentatively.

Ryou puts his hand to his forehead, and feels the warmth there. The sight of the blood makes him dizzy again. He flicks his hand, sending scattered drops into the air. Drops that seem to disintegrate, never hitting the ground. Across the street over Yugi's shoulder, Bakura grins at Ryou before dissolving himself.

"Well, Ryou?"

"Pardon? What?" Ryou re-focuses on Yugi, having utterly lost the thread of the conversation.

"The school nurse? You really seem kinda out of it. You might have a concussion."

(I hope that's the problem.) A dark voice comments, one Yugi alone can hear.


There, the first chapter. Kind of short, I know. I'd like to see if there is any interest in it, before I go all out. I don't write well without feedback. I tend to loose interest if no one else shows any. Kapish?