This was just something I had stuck in my head and had to get on paper. Then I got writters block on my other fic so I decided to finish it. I don't own Yu-gi-oh. Do people actually go around and check to make sure there is a disclaimer on Yu-gi-oh stories? Man! Someone needs to slap that person with a fish!
Yami Bakura's eyes flashed open and he lay still for a few minutes, pushing away the dream that plagued him every night. The dream of his failure to cast this dimension into darkness 5,000 years ago. The memory of the Pharoah's victory that day made him grit his teeth in anger. Next time would be different. The shadows would consume this world, and his power would grow ten fold, aiding him in his quest to drown every realm in eternal darkness. This is what he had done his entire existence; and would do until he succeeded. When the day came that the light was finally extinguished, his power would surpass comprehension and he would be a god. No, not a god. The god, the supreme source of darkness in an endless night.
He sat up, the Millenium Ring sliding against his bare chest. Yami Bakura ran a hand through his thick, white hair and looked around his host's room. A smile played across his lips. Even Ryou's father would notice the change in the room, not that he was home long enough to see that anything was wrong with his son. There were deep gouges in the wood of the door and on the walls, products of his love of knives. The dresser had been overturned and there was a long splinter running up its back. The once light blue walls were covered in symbols, spelling words that no mortal should ever utter.
The Spirit of the Ring happened to glance down and notice a picture frame lying on the floor. He picked it up and saw it was a picture of his host's mother. Her hair was white, like her son's, but in was wavier and not as choppy. Warm brown eyes stared out from the picture, lit by the soft smile on her lips.
He threw the picture at the wall, making the glass shatter and tinkle lightly to the ground. Yami Bakura enjoyed breaking things, especially people. He'd broken many people in the last 5,000 years. Powerful men and women who couldn't possibly imagine the jeopardy they had placed themselves in by accepting a simple game. Duel Monsters was one of only a few games he'd used to steal away people's souls. Games as simple as flipping a coin. A double sided coin, that is.
Yami Bakura reached over and picked up the knife he'd left on the bedside table. He turned it, admiring how the early morning sunlight reflected of its surface. There was something about knives and their ability to inspire fear in people, that he positively loved. They'd frightened his host even before he'd come into possession of the Millenium Ring. Apparently, his mother had been attacked on their way home from a late movie. The man stole her purse, cut her throat, and ran off, leaving the woman to drown in her own blood and the seven year old boy to watch as his mother's beautiful white hair was stained red.
Speaking of his host, the mortal was wandering about his soul room, touching the things he loved and gathering strength for a new day. "How pathetic," he muttered to himself, taking out the sharpening stone he kept in the drawer of the table. Yet another enjoyable thing about knives; the sound they make when they're sharpened.
Shink! Shink! Shink!
Even the sound of knives put people on edge. It caught his host's attention, and Yami Bakura smiled at the fear the mortal felt. They were truly two sides the the same coin. The boy hated knives for the same reasons Yami Bakura loved them. The fear and pain they could cause; the endless possibilities they held.
Yami Bakura brushed his fingers against the edge and watched the blood ooze out of the cuts. Today was a recreational day, and he planned to enjoy it as much as possible.
Ryou started struggling against his control, surprising him. The boy hadn't resisted him since that night in the church, the night he'd recovered the Millenium Ring from the Pharaoh. Yami Bakura hadn't been gentle with him, and he was shocked that the boy was willing to risk his wrath again. But Ryou had an annoying tendency to put other people first, something Yami Bakura thought of as a sign of poor self-esteem, self-destructive, and in this case, hazardous to ones safety.
This is my body! Ryou protested, You can't use me like this!
Yami Bakura forced open the door to his host's soul room, ready to show the mortal just how little control he had over his fate. Ryou had his fists held up in front of him, ready to fight. The mortal took a deep breath to steady himself, and along with the resolve in his eyes, there was also fear. Yami Bakura's mouth twisted into a smirk. Did the boy really think he could hold him off? The Spirit of the Ring raised his hand and clenched it, making Ryou cry out and wrap his arms around his body. Yami Bakura dug his fingernails into his palm, and the boy screamed louder. The spirit laughed at his host's pain and quickly lowered his hand, slamming Ryou into the floor. Yami Bakura walked over to where the boy lay with an arm around himself, grimacing in pain. He grabbed Ryou's throat and shoved him into the wall, raising him higher so his feet dangled above the floor. The boy clutched his hand, trying to keep breathing.
Yami Bakura waited until the boys lip's were paling before he spoke, "Are you going to be quiet?"
His host nodded his head miserably. "I want to hear you say it, Ryou," Yami Bakura said.
The boy's eyes widened in disbelief, but he still struggled to say yes. The spirit closed his hand tighter around his host's neck, laughing as Ryou struggled helplessly. "Sss... Sss," the boy whispered.
"What was that?" Yami Bakura asked, smiling.
"Ye... sss," Ryou breathed, his hands slipping.
"Good boy," the spirit smirked, letting go. The boy slumped to the floor gasping, his brown eyes wide. Yami Bakura crouched next to him, grabbed his chin, and forced Ryou to look at him, his nails digging into the boy's jaw. "Soon I will have no need for you, human," the spirit told him, "I won't need to keep you in good condition much longer. I'd keep that in mind the next time you try to take over this vessel."
Ryou looked away, trying to keep the despair off his face, and failing miserably. The spirit shoved the boy away from him and stood up, regarding his host contemptuously. His constant attempts to free himself were once amusing, but they were quickly losing their appeal. He kicked him viciously in the side before walking away, slamming the door behind him.
Ryou sat up, wincing at the pain in his side. He touched his pale skin where the spirit had kicked him, hissing as the pain spiked. Ryou rested his head against the wall, sighing. Another failure. Why did he even try anymore? He stood, whimpering faintly, and staggered over to his desk. It was the same as the one in his room, but the real one was now splintered beyond recognision. On the desk were pictures: his mom, his father, Yugi and the gang. All the people he cared about, but, sadly, only the gang cared about him. Even their friendship was turning into hatred because of his other half.
He picked up the picture of his mother, touching her gentle face. What would she think of him now? He was a monster, unable to control the darkness in the Millenium Ring. Unable to change his fate. Ryou sighed, setting the frame back on the desk. He would try again soon. He knew what would happen. He knew the spirit would punsh him.
Ryou had seen the confusion in his other half's eyes when he fought back. The spirit didn't have the capacity to understand his motives; he barely understood them himself. Ryou placed his head in one of his hands. He had to prove to himself that he deserved the friendship the gang had given him, to prove that there was a reason his mother had loved him. Ryou laughed, surprising himself. He was trying to preserve his pride, something he thought the spirit had crushed out of him. He closed his eyes and sighed, losing himself in his memories, the only place he felt at peace.
Ryou sat there in his soul room, trapped in his own mind and deprived of his senses, waiting for whatever fate had in store for him.
Yami Bakura scowled at his side where a bruise was beginning to form. Despite the fact that he controlled this vessel, it still belonged to Ryou. Any pain he inflicted on the boy he felt himself when he returned to control the body they shared. He wondered if the boy knew; it would explain his self-destructive behavior.
He pushed the speculations from his mind and looked up at the door where he had carved three symbols. Three symbols, four letters. Those four letters formed a name he hated with his whole being.
Atem.
Soon his plan would take effect, then the Pharaoh would pay for making him wait. Yami Bakura picked up his knife and grinned, a crazy light glinting in his eyes. Yes. The Pharaoh would pay dearly for forestalling Zork's arrival. The spirit threw the knife, and the blade caught the early morning light, glinting scarlett where his blood had stained it.
It stuck securely in the center, destroying the first symbol. Yami Bakura's smile widened. The Pharaoh didn't stand a chance.
I have struggled to make Yami Bakura as crazy as he is, but probably failed. Please review!