Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. - Confucius
The Spirit of the Millennium Ring knew that the vengeance he sought would bring about his end. But he took comfort in knowing that unless something extraordinary happened, his family would be avenged. Thousands of years passed, and the Spirit took comfort in the monotony. Nothing extraordinary, nothing special. His hosts would last a day or two, some had even made a week. But never any more than that. He had to use them quickly before they burned out.
But then something special happened: Ryou. From the outside, the boy seemed weak, pitiful. The Spirit thought he was going to burn through the boy within the minute. But the boy felt barely any pain. He and the boy clicked together like a key in a lock. Without a beat, the boy took on the full brunt of the Spirit's rage and pain and strength.
He was also perceptive. He knew from the beginning when the Spirit invaded his brain. If the boy had been any good at mental barriers, the Spirit would have had a major problem. But as it was, the boy had been the best thing to happen to him.
But right now, watching the boy die while his own metaphysical form was being ripped to shreds, the Spirit, Koe, as Ryou had dubbed him, wished the two of them had never met. Maybe then, at least one of them would have been alive by the end of this.
A/N: For some reason, this was in actual English when I saved it, but for some reason, afterwards, it turned to unreadable computer code. That is the weirdest thing. It happened to my other story, A Story for A Word. So I'm reuploading it now! Here's hoping...