Many hours later, the sun was past rising, and a thin pile of blankets shifted quietly.

"Ryou."

"Mnmm." The blankets shifted again.

The light voice called out again, almost teasingly. "Ryyyy~ou."

"Nnnn..." Two cocoa-colored eyes opened half-way. Ryou could barely make out the form looking down at him. But he could see white hair and pale skin. "Nngh... mum?" He mumbled sleepily. "Izzat you?"

But the semi-conscious boy nearly hit the roof when a loud cackle sounded from just behind his head.

"HA! See, he mistook you for a womantoo, Mr. Grouch!"

Ryou let out a confused groan as he sat up. There were some rather old blankets covering his lap, and he'd apparently slept in his clothes. But why-?

He could hear someone bickering in the background as his thoughts slowly re-formed into a single, cohesive path.

'That's right...' He felt his jaw tense as the memories returned. The terrible events of the last few weeks suddenly struck him. Ryou shook his head, almost as if to clear away the waking nightmares. He just wanted to slip back into the blissful oblivion of sleep.

"Hey, Ryou! You awake?!"

Alas, no such luck.

The exhausted teen raised his head and mumbled a reply. "Yeh... where'm I?"

There was a pause before the same voice yelled in excitement. "I knew it! You can talk!"

'Oh, sprinkles.' Ryou nearly facepalmed; he had forgotten the final part of his recent memories. He had avoided speaking as much as possible lately. It helped to conceal his identity, while also serving as a coping mechanism. The no-longer mute teen blinked and stared nervously into a pair of vivid, lavender eyes.

Malik watched excitedly as the other youth regained his senses. "So, you can talk?!"

Ryou gulped uneasily. "Um, yes..." He looked downwards in discomfort. "I... just haven't talked much the past three months." Indeed, his voice sounded rough from disuse. He even coughed a bit as he spoke. "...only a little with my friends."

"So you're really pissed off at your parents?" Bakura speculated bluntly.

The younger boy shook his head and responded quietly. "Not at all. They've both passed on."

There was an awkward pause as Bakura muttered an apology, while the two blondes glared at him. Ryou didn't say anything further; he seemed to be reflecting on something else.

Malik eventually broke the silence, his tone a little more subdued. "So, what happened? Didn't you inherit everything? It was all over the news."

Ryou gave a very painful smile. "Well, yes; I did inherit their estate- and that's the problem."

The other three runaways stared in disbelief.

"...what?"

He'd already trusted them enough... the DesCorp heir sighed as he threw all caution to the wind and began narrating his story.

"My mum and dad were wonderful... I was never mad at them..." Malik gave Bakura a quick smack to the back of his head as Ryou went on, "-and we were very happy. But when I was growing up, we were actually kinda poor- I mean, we never went hungry or anything; but we had problems. Even as a little kid, I could tell..."

The boy paused for a second but as he spoke his eyes began to light up.

"Then, one day, my father made a discovery in the computer codes he wrote for his employer. He found a way to strengthen the company's internal digital security systems. So he branched out and started his own electronic security service- with the best protection in the business." There was a hint of pride in the modest youth's tone. "The company was very successful, and in time we became multimillionaires."

The other three waited for him to continue speaking. Ryou's voice hitched slightly as he went on.

"But, my father had heart problems- he'd always had them- and he passed away suddenly. So it was just my mother and I for the past few years... until she was in a car accident last spring."

He lowered his head, his soft, hickory-brown eyes watering. Malik frowned and gently patted the smaller boy's back.

Ryou gave a weak smile. "Thank you."

Bakura cleared his throat. "So, what's the problem?"

Ryou shuddered visibly. He felt his stomach churn as he muttered the truth. "My uncle."

Marik tilted his head in bewilderment. "Your uncle?"

The recent orphan nodded. "He'd a horrible, greedy man. He wants the money I'll inherit when I turn 18. It's mostly in a special trust fund; I can't access it until then." He frowned in despair. "I told him I would give him half of the assets as soon as I could... but he grew tired of waiting, and decided to do the only thing that would make him the main heir."

"Murdering you." The two bronzed boys once again gave Bakura a nasty glare, but he ignored them.

Ryou nodded in grim confirmation. "If I die, he gets the entire fortune- and he's been using his part of the inheritance to hire people to help him get the rest."

"His 'part'?"

The narrating teen nodded. "My mother already left him some money, naturally- he was her brother, after all." His face twisted in repulsion. "But he wants more. He's a volatile addict; and he wantsall of my parent's fortune to fuel his filthy habits."

Marik paused. "Wow- so if you stay alive until you're 18, you'll be rich?!"

The pale boy laughed. "Not exactly. I originally planned to give away most of the wealth."

The two bronzed teens just stared blankly. Only Bakura voiced his thoughts aloud.

"...are you f**king stupid?"

Malik started to growl. "Hey! Don't insult my Marik-sexy!"

"I was referring to Mother Teresa over here!" Bakura threw out his hands in astonishment. "Why would you give away all that cash?!"

Ryou actually seemed to pout a little at Bakura's criticism. "I wasn't going to just put it in a dumpster, you know! I was going to fulfill my mother's dream!"

Marik seemed interested. "Her 'dream'?"

Ryou nodded, his eyes glistening as he gave a bittersweet smile. "Yes... it was my mother's deepest dream to set up a charity fund for underprivileged kids." He hugged his knees to his chest as he spoke. "She had a rough childhood- she wouldn't talk about it much, but I think that's why her brother turned into... that." Ryou shook his head. "She wanted to try and make it so that hopefully, someday; no child would have such a harsh start in life."

"Preaching to the choir, here." Bakura commented dryly.

Malik tilted his head. "So, how old are you now?"

The newest boy's shoulders slumped. "...16 and a half."

"You're screwed." Again, both the blondes glared daggers at their old friend. Bakura openly shrugged. "What? How the hell's he going to outrun that b*stard for nearly two more years?"

"I can't." Ryou's eyes were starting to water again. "My friends all offered to help hide me, but he stole my phone and paid someone to gather their contact information. So he has all their addresses. Besides..." A single tear ran down his pale cheek. "...I don't want them to get hurt."

Now it was Marik's turn to look confused. "But, why not go to the police?"

The newcomer gave a surprisingly sarcastic snort. "Oh yes- the depressed, teenaged child of a recently deceased millionaire has fantasies that his uncle is going to murder him in cold blood for his money. Money that he already has a fair slice of. Not to mention that he's probably paid off half the force- remember when I said he was hiring people to help?"

"...yeah, you're totally screwed." Malik nodded solemnly.

Ryou sighed yet again. "That seems to be the general consensus."

Another moment of silence settled over the group, before Bakura cleared his throat again. "So who was that loud, blonde string-bean you were talking to earlier?"

Ryou's eyes widened and he looked scandalized as he chastised his unofficial guardian. "You were spying on me?!"

The other white-haired youth snorted and sternly folded his arms. "Hey, this isn't the fairytale life here- how are we supposed to know if we can trust you if you aren't honest with us?"

The quieter teen gave a wry smile. "Fair enough. The guy you saw me talking to is Jounouchi Katsuya. He's an old friend of mine. We went to the same schools together... he's very loyal and kind- but he's also a bit, erm, scatterbrained? If that's the word..."

Bakura rolled his eyes at the term 'scatterbrained.' "He seemed more like a doofus to me."

The newcomer glared in sudden harshness as he retorted. "He's not a 'doofus'! He's been working really hard to turn his life around! Jou only recently got out of the city's largest middle-school gang!"

Marik's jaw nearly dropped as he deciphered this insinuation. "Wait- you mean he was in the Dominoes?!"

Ryou nodded soberly. "Yeah, a while back he was their second in command."

Malik seemed the most stunned by this admission. "Whoa- they were nasty. I'm surprised he got out alive."

The hickory-eyed teen only shrugged. "He doesn't like to talk much about 'those days;' so I don't know the whole story. All I know is that he somehow found a safe way to leave."

"Weird..." Marik muttered, his thoughts clearly focused on the strange tale.

Yet the taller of the pale pair didn't seem terribly fazed. "So he's been, what, laundering all your money for you?"

"Well, it's not 'laundering, per se; but he had been running errands and favors for me, yes."

"And you only have hundred-dollar bills because...?" Bakura prompted skeptically.

The previous-millionaire swallowed nervously. "It's all I could grab- but I can't go out in public with it. It's all in really large bills, and someone might recognize my face."

"A teen with a roll of hundreds might garner some attention." Malik nodded sagely.

"So Jou's been helping me by buying whatever I need. He's a great guy, and I trust him." Ryou's shoulders fell backwards as he gave a long sigh. "It's tougher than I thought, living on the streets, but he's given me so much advice and support. I'd be dead now if it wasn't for him."

Malik and Marik seemed satisfied with this explanation, but Bakura wasn't so easily persuaded. The brooding street brawler turned his back while the other three continued to talk about Ryou's story.

'So a multi-millionaire is suddenly on the run from his murderous uncle, and only a former gang member can help him?' The scarlet-eyed teen frowned to himself, his stark disbelief warring with his hidden sympathies. 'That's a very convenient narrative, almost like it was taken off the back cover of a late 90's action DVD.' He glanced over at the others, watching as they kept up their discussion. 'Maybe the twerp's lying, maybe he's not... either way, it seems things are about to get dodgier than normal around here...'