Title - Tender Hate
Rating - K+
Warnings - Bakura
Disclaimer - If I owned YuGiOh and every single thing from it, would this be called a fanfiction? I don't think so. YuGiOh! and all the characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi.

A/N - I've seen a part in the YuGiOh! anime where Ryou runs into a church in so many AMVs it's unreal. Rather than going to check out why he runs into a church and all that, I decided to write what I thought is going through Ryou's head whilst he does this. I just felt that it would give the fanfic a more original feel to it, y'know? Therefore, this fanfic kind of follows the anime, but in no way does it strictly follow everything about it. Also, I felt like I needed to write about Ryou and Bakura. If I wasn't trying to stay true to the characters, I would have easily turned this into a tendershipping fic.

Once more as the wind blows
He can do this, he must
For what was about to be accomplished
Would earn him no one's trust

Once more as the rain falls
His faith is slipping, no!
For what was about to happen
Meant he would have to go

Maybe if he just kept running, his problems would stay behind. Maybe they would be unwilling to follow him through the rain-soaked streets and alleyways that wound endlessly between dreary apartments. Maybe, just maybe, he'd never have to deal with them again.

Ryou knew the clear, cold-hearted facts that that wasn't the truth at all. His problems would always relentlessly follow him, floating wordlessly behind and peering over his shoulder. However, this knowledge was wrapped in a state of foolishness for just that one moment. An idea had popped into Ryou's head that could not be dredged out until he'd looked it through; his hope would not be silenced until it had been completely crushed. His legs therefore still pounded on the pavement, the surroundings barely lit by flickering light that the lampposts emitted. The wind was a harsh cold; it tore right through Ryou's hair and clothes, making him shiver. Drops of water that fell from the sky stung his eyes, and he had to squint to see.

Where are you going so late at night, host? As much as I'm enjoying this midnight run, it's not like you at all. We can't have you scurrying away from yourself, now, can we?

The low voice echoed in Ryou's mind, and he would have stopped for fear if he wasn't so intent on reaching his destination. He'd covered a fair distance from his own apartment, so he was not going to stop when he could feel that he was so close. Narrowing his eyes further still, he glanced far ahead of him. In his view, the tall spire started to appear from over the rooftops. Elation suddenly filled his body from head to toe and all doubts of the plan failing drifted away with the assurance that the church was not far away.

A laugh resonated around Ryou's mind, mocking and full of dry amusement, yet with an underlying tone of hesitation.

I see. Maybe you ought to think twice about this plan, host. I am you, I will always be you. You can never get away.

The sentences were heard and not ignored as Ryou acknowledged them with grim satisfaction. The seemingly cocky words were tainted with slight fear and uncertainty, and Ryou's hope thrived on that. It was obvious that they both did not know what the outcome of Ryou's plan would be; they both knew that they would soon find out. They were on the same boat, and they would soon discover who was to be thrown out into the never-ending thrashing of the waves.

Ryou didn't stop running until he was right next to the church. He bent over slightly and clutched at his side, only just realising after stopping that he had a stitch. He panted short, ragged breaths as he stood by the wooden doors. It was strange, but he felt nostalgic as he remembered the church like he'd gone there just days before. A habit of his had been to go every Sunday. Ryou had never been particularly religious, although he was enlightened by different views and beliefs that other people held, so curiousness kept him coming back. After being possessed by an ancient spirit, though, Ryou's life had been dominated and manipulated beyond his own control. He'd never done what he himself desired for too long a time. Now, he was planning to take back what was most rightfully his.

He placed one hand around the knocker, shaking slightly. The brilliant golden colour of it was dimmed by the moonlight, and this made Ryou feel uneasy. The church was bound to be almost pitch-black inside, save for a perpetual candle that burned on the altar. A wave of doubt washed over him. What if the plan didn't work? He would be forever lost within himself, unable to win the fight with the spirit, the person he refused to think of as his other self. However, he knew that if he didn't try to stop the spirit, he would never gain control of his own life again. This was his last hope, but at least he knew that the hope was still there.

The door creaked effortlessly open, revealing the inside of the church. The altar was at the far end, with a white sheet laid over it and the candle burning away. Stain-glass windows with intricate pictures and patterns allowed some white streaks of moonlight to shine down on the polished, wooden pews. Ryou took one deep breath, and tentatively walked in with his fists clenched tightly. The moment of truth was to come soon, and Ryou was in forceful denial that it could go wrong. He couldn't lose himself, not here. Not where someone as purely evil as the spirit should never be allowed.

The millennium ring that dangled down from Ryou's neck gave off a brilliant yellow light, and Ryou felt a sudden surge of absolute disgust. This was the object that had tied him down, stopped his life in its tracks. He yanked it over his head and hurriedly threw it as far away as possible. It clattered onto the floor next to the altar, and Ryou held his breath.

A faint outline became visible from the millennium ring, and Ryou refused to believe it to be the spirit. He was on edge; his mind may have just created an illusion. He repeated that to himself several times, staring at the white figure and willing it to disappear from sight.

A quiet laugh escaped Bakura's lips. "Pathetic. Nothing can stop me, and you should be the only person to truly know that. You'll never be rid of me. How can you be? I am you."

"You're not me at all! You're nothing like me!" Ryou shouted, tears of frustration and disbelief running down his cheeks. The ghostly spirit drifted closer to him, and Ryou backed away, his breathing rapid and shaky. Bakura had been able to appear as a transparent form, but he hadn't yet possessed Ryou's body. Surely that was a good sign? Again, Ryou found himself holding on to that last scrap of hope; tiny as it was, it was enough to keep him going, keep him believing.

"Oh yes I am. I am you, Ryou Bakura. I am."

Suddenly an ear-splitting scream echoed in the church. Ryou had collapsed onto his knees on the floor and was clutching his head in absolute pain. The spirit had disappeared from sight, but he was still very much there in presence.

No! I can't let him control me again, I can't! I'll lose myself forever… Ryou's thoughts were trailing out as the spirit gained more and more of his body. His usually limp white hair started to turn upwards; his eyes slanted and became a lot narrower, and he grew slightly taller. An evil smirk replaced a grimace of pain. Finally, there was no sign that a spirit and a fifteen year old boy had been in the church.

Bakura walked over to the Millennium ring and carefully placed the string over his neck. Satisfied that he'd fully taken control of his pathetic host's body, Bakura threw back his head and roared with laughter. Laughter that bounced off the walls and arrived back at him; and this made him laugh all the more manically. Now nothing could get in his way.

*Crackle of radio* So, that's it. Ryou lost himself to the spirit, poor guy. I might do Bakura's point of view on this story; I might not. I dunno. Maybe you could tell me in the reviews if you want a sequel to this of Bakura's thoughts during Ryou's failed attempt to salvage himself. How about it? Cheers for reading, and, as always, comments and concrit. are appreciated. Kittie out. *Crackle stops*