Things will never be the same again. Things will never be the same again. Things will never be the same again.

If Ryou had one wish – well. Ryou doesn't like to dwell on that; he knows he'll never be lucky enough for a miracle. He clutches the Ring in his sweaty palms, unconscious and familiar. I missed you. I hate you. I need you. You ruined my life.

You're a monster. You know me better than anybody.

I'm glad you're back.

I wish I could get rid of you forever.

Ryou closes his eyes, fingers gliding over the unmarked metal. He always comes back, doesn't He? He will always come back. Even if it's not for you.

He stares at his hand. Watches the tiny bones move underneath his skin when he flexes his fingers, traces his veins with a finger, tries to untangle the lines of his palm in his mind. This is my body, he thinks. My body, on the market to rent. Pre-payment of cruel actions and a feeling of helplessness. My body, sold for a magical ring.

"Hey Bakura! We're going to go find Teá, are you coming?"

Yugi is so lucky, Ryou spits in his mind. Yugi doesn't have You in his head. Yugi doesn't have his body used. Yugi has the weight of the world on his shoulders, not a demon lurking inside his eyes and mouth and heart.

Instead, the corners of Ryou's mouth curve upwards to mirror Yugi's, and his eyes close slightly. I don't want You to see him happy, darkside. I know you hate that.

What Ryou wants to say is: why are you so nice to me when I tried to kill you so many times.

Instead he says, "sure."

"Are you okay today, Bakura? You seem really distant…"

"I'm fine, thank you, Yugi. Just excited for the announcement!"

"I know, I know. We should go watch the duel, I don't want to miss the end!"

It doesn't take them too long to find Teá. She's sat with Tristan and Joey on the stairs by City Hall, watching the duel on a giant screen. She's drinking something sickly looking that gives Ryou a headache when he takes a sip. He feels awkward and out of place.

"I didn't know you smoked, Tristan," he offers instead. Tristan shrugs and takes a drag, looking oddly grown up and young all at once.

"He smokes because Devlin smokes," Joey sighs, "and thinks it looks cool. He wants to impress my sister or something dumb."

"I do not. Is she… here, by the way?"

Teá laughs, then coughs, then smiles up at Yugi. She has a beautiful smile, Ryou thinks, and doesn't really care if his darkside heard or not.

"Shh, shh," Yugi's eyes are shining, "I think Jones is about to play a trap card."

A cloud moves and the sun shines on the clock tower, the glare making it impossible to watch the screen. Yugi moans.

"Come on dude, they've both still got like half their life points left. We've got a while, why don't we go look at the stalls and get some lunch?" Joey places both his hands on Yugi's shoulders and steers him away. Teá smiles and slips her hand into Ryou's.

"Let's go join them, ok? You look like you need some of Domino's finest hot dogs anyway!"

It perplexes him, why they're so nice.

They must know that he – it's back. This thing. Yugi looked oddly empty without the Puzzle and now he fits just right again, cradling his best friend in his hands as he walks and breathes and sleeps. He wants to talk to Yugi and shake him and demand why they had to come back. What he really wants is to know if the Pharaoh is back because they needed each other. He wants to know if they missed each other so much, Ryou's body was just a price to pay. But there's never time, never a chance, and darkside is always listening.

What Ryou wants to know – really, really wants to know, deep down inside, a burning question that for once in his life is his and only his – is whether they really ever left at all.

He touches the Ring again, seeking familiarity or - comfort. It burns. He's been listening.

He's surrounded by colour and he can't help but smile; the whirlwind of cerise and sapphire and sunshine yellow, the taste of spice in the air, sugary incandescence weaving with laughter in the atmosphere. It's a beautiful day.

I can't be completely lost to You yet, he mutters as he eyes his friends. You never could understand simple pleasures that didn't involve pain. You never felt anything that wasn't disgust.

"Who do you think will win?" Teá was right, these are great hot dogs, but Joey has tomato sauce in his teeth and it reminds Ryou too much of blood, so he turns away.

"Oh, Jones, definitely," Tristan says, "he had the best campaign."

"But it's not the campaign that matters, it's the duel –"

" – actually, I think you'll find it's the candidates skill and belief in –"

"Shut up and enjoy the day off school, Yugi."

"Well, I don't agree with it anyway. Who's to say that the winner would be any good as Mayor?"

"Because! Because that's what duels are real tests of, good character and –"

Ryou isn't listening. Ryou is straining his eyes against the crowd because he saw a flash of bronze that he's come to know all too well. He can feel an anger in his edges and he hates it, hates to feel angry at anybody but Him. The Ring burns again, and a darkness expands in his skull when he sees Marik slip in and out of the crowd quietly. He catches sight of Ryou and his friends – his friends – and stiffens before slithering away again. The Ring burns harsher and leaves a mark on his shirt.

"Oh, sod off," Ryou sighs. "I'm not getting involved in – whatever you two are doing. Stop bothering me, just for today."

You promised, he adds silently.

Ryou likes to pretend he doesn't care that his darkside has a – an acquaintance. But he does. It starts in his chest, tangled and intangible, before blooming under his skin through to his fingertips. It's not that he's worried about what they do, or if they'll hurt his friends. It's not that he hates his body being used to such little consequence, it's really not. And it's definitely not that he wants to be His friend – God, anything but – but there's a certain element of security in knowing that you're needed. That you're the only one. And if there's one thing – just one thing – that he's learned since he first held burning gold in his hand so many years ago, it's that Ryou Bakura does not like to share.

Sometimes, when he's not trying to listen, he can hear what his darkside is thinking. No – that's not right. He can feel what he's feeling. When he's trapped inside his own mind with no control over his body, he knows when the demon inside of him has touched the back of Marik's back or made him laugh. Worse is when they're arguing because he can feel his own face crack into a smile and he wants to scream and scream because this is his body and his darkside shouldn't be using it to make friends. Instead he calls Marik pretty boy or threatens him with a knife and Marik waves a nonchalant hand and that's that. In Ryou's life, there's a lot of instead. There's a lot of forgotten intention. He guesses that's true about his darkside, too.

Ryou can't feel his darkside. That's the worst of all – usually when he mentions His presence there's a sharp pain behind his eyes and in his tongue, but not today. He's hiding somewhere. Ryou traces the edges of the Ring with his forefinger but it's cold. It's lifeless. It's a hunk of metal strapped around his neck like a noose.

Ryou wonders what He's thinking. Ryou wonders if He's lonely.

His melancholy is interrupted by cheers and confetti; of Yugi's gasp and Teás laughter and the thump of Tristan's arm on his back.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a disembodied voice booms out, crackling and vacant, "I am pleased to announce the champion of the duel and the new mayor of Domino City, Mr Daniel Hallowes!"


"I don't know why it's such a big fucking deal anyway," Marik mutters to himself, his hand slipping from one pocket to his. He's getting into such bad habits since Bakura came back.

But really, he doesn't. Leaders never really lead. They're controlled by the people, and if they aren't, the people kill the leader anyway. Trust him, he's speaking from experience.

He wants to pretend he's glad for the day off. Bakura's host has the day off, and there's a fair, and all his friends are going, and considering Bakura spends seventy five percent of the time controlling his body just to annoy Marik, he convinced Bakura to let his host have this one.

The problem is, it's pretty fucking boring. Marik spent too long in the dark to be drawn in by flashing lights and noise. It's a bit too much. He feels too exposed. And, worst of all, he's left with too much time to think. Marik spends a lot of time inside other people's minds so that he doesn't have to be in his own, because his mind is filled with meaningless hieroglyphs and Bakura's not-really-his eyes and his father's head mounted like a proud hunt complete with golden plaque; Ishtar, loving father, murdered by beloved heir. And Marik has already gotten enough to feel guilty and confused about, thank you very much, without dragging his past into this New Life that doesn't involve days of scripture and healing sacrificial wounds.

Marik feels guilty about a lot of things, actually: betraying Bakura is high up there, along with Never Actually Showing him his Scars. Disappointing his sister is another. Feeling pleased when Bakura controls his host's body because he enjoys his company – now there's something. Marik would hate it if he was locked away in his mind because he was being controlled by his Dark Side. Marik would rather die, actually. Would rather his father came back from the grave to scar his back all over again before impaling him with the bloody Rod. Marik doesn't need friends, doesn't need anybody but himself and his brother. And he certainly does not need Bakura.

So why is it, then, when he saw a flash of white and gold in the crowd that his heart jumped into his throat and pushed against the back of his tongue and teeth with a broken 'Bakura!'? A 'Bakura' that never makes it past his lips, because Yugi is there, and the two he controlled, and it's not really Bakura only it is really Bakura because the one he cares about isn't even a person.

This sucks, Marik concludes. He's gotten himself into another situation where he has no idea where he's going and no idea why he's letting himself be dragged along by his hair by that guy all over again. So he's going to ignore it until it goes away. Just like his dreams. Just like the memory of his brother's warm gaze and his body when he catches sight of himself in a reflection.

Those dreams –

Well. Bakura doesn't like to talk about it, so Marik tries not to think about it.

They're all different so it's hard to say why they're the same. It's something about the cold sweat in his sheets and the taste of ash and blood and something holier than thou imprinted on his tongue for days afterwards. It's something in the way the images move, never stable and never really there. He's had nightmares before, sure - Freud would probably love to read his dream diary – but never like this. Never like he's being shown something. Never like it's a riddle he has to figure out. Marik never did like having to do things for himself.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce the champion of the duel and the new mayor of Domino City, Mr Daniel Hallowes!"

That name is of such little consequence to Marik, he thinks he might cry. It's just a name, and names don't mean anything. It's just another obstacle for the two of them to slit the throat of in order to regain the Items.

Marik feels very, very alone amongst the cheering fools around him.

He wishes Bakura were here.

He thinks to himself: oh, fuck.


AN: I changed my username! Can you believe it? I figured if I was making a ~comeback~ with a new style and new mindset, I might as well have a new username. In regards to this chapter, I apologise if it came across as boring. I'm not used to writing anything that you can't read in seven minutes and exposition is not my strong point. I imagine future chapters will be longer, too, I just wanted to get this out of the way really because these are the parts where I have no idea what I'm doing!