Broken Hero

Hey guys! Sorry for the extremely late update, haha. I would like to thank my reviewers deeply from the bottom of my heart. Honestly, writing YGO fanfics is an escape for me. I've noticed that I tend to use Puzzleshipping as a way to cheer myself up. I know I've left this story untouched for a very long time and, being a writer, I always promise to finish all the stories that I begin. But after leaving this story for so long, I became uncertain about whether or not I could properly continue it with the same emotions and ideas as I did before.

But re-reading the reviews, and re-reading the story itself, has really warmed me and motivated me again. I don't write as much as I used to and that could contribute to my lack of self-confidence in the writing area, but your words remind me that I do have something going for me. I just hope to make you proud.

So without further ado, welcome back to old readers, and I hope everyone enjoys the chapter!

Chapter 4: Battered

Yami gaped, his mouth hanging open. Yuugi's eyes were scorching, white-hot, blinding. In an instant, Yami wanted to get away, run, escape, flee—far, far, far away, away from eyes that saw everything, that burned him, that threatened to hurt him with a righteous fire that would put his whole being to shame. He needed to go, he couldn't stay here, couldn't be seen—not by him, not by him—

He grabbed Yuugi's wrists and tried to pry his hands off his face. "Yuugi, let go…" he said, and he was appalled by how weak his voice was—breathless and panicked. It wasn't like him; what was happening to him? He struggled against the smaller man's grip but still he held on, didn't let go, and Yami let out a desperate snarl, baring his teeth in a way an animal would when they were cornered and scared. But as he tried to pull Yuugi off of him, Yuugi remained steadfast, unmoving. When had he grown this strong?

Yuugi didn't once look away, didn't even give a hint that there was a chance of him letting go. He kept their foreheads pressed together firmly, staring at Yami with determination aflame in his amethyst eyes. "Why are you trying to run away?" he demanded, huffing slightly with the efforts to keep the other in place. They were so close, so close—their breaths were mixing together, every point of contact between them sparking like bolts of electricity. "Yami, why are you running away?"

"I'm not!" Yami snapped, eyes narrowing. There was a wild look in his violet eyes, crazed and hysterical. His nails were digging painfully into Yuugi's wrists, threatening to draw blood if he didn't let go. "Yuugi, get off of me!"

"I'll get off when you snap out of it!"

"I don't have the damnedest idea what you're talking about!"

But whereas Yami's eyes expressed a whirlwind storm of panic, Yuugi's eyes were as sharp and clear as lightning in bright, blue skies. "Don't lie, mou hitori no boku! You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

The mounting panic gave Yami the burst of strength he needed. He ripped Yuugi's hands off of him with a grunt and violently shoved the youth away. Yuugi staggered back at the powerful force but didn't fall, and when he looked at Yami again his gaze hadn't faltered an inch. Yami stumbled a couple of steps backwards, away from the room, the tomb for his weaker self that was supposed to be forever shut, and Yuugi followed him immediately, matching step for step with confident strides that clashed with Yami's desperate retreat. When had the balance of power shifted? Since when was Yuugi the one with the stronger gaze, the one with the straighter back? Yami didn't like it, didn't like it—where was Yuugi's weakness?

He didn't like looking at his face. Despite the fact that he was crying, there was strength in his expression, in his unfaltering stare. His cheeks were flushed with indignation and he was frowning sadly, resolution etched to every pulled muscle on his face. At a time, Yami would have wanted to wipe those tears away. He would have gently run his thumbs over his aibou's cheeks and kissed the frown off his brow, caressed every crevice of strain that twisted the younger's face until his expression was one of shy contentment and peace. A weaker Yami would have let himself be cowed by Yuugi's expression and would have bent to it, a slave to Yuugi's will—but not this Yami. This Yami was stronger—he was—and he wouldn't fall for this.

Fortified with his newfound determination, Yami stopped his shaky retreat and finally stood his ground, his eyes hardening and the scowl on his face deepening with intense displeasure. Yuugi matched his glare and continued walking forwards, reaching out with a hand to grasp the other's arm. Yami harshly slapped it away, daring Yuugi to try again. Yuugi did and Yami struck him.

There was a cry, but it didn't come from Yuugi. It seemed to be coming from someone behind them, back in the room. Yami's narrowed gaze snapped up, staring over Yuugi's bowed shoulder and locking eyes with the fragment of himself he chose to shed away. The fragment had—somehow, when had it become so brave—crawled to the doorframe, fingers digging into the stone, its eyes wide and shocked and its lips trembling.

The sight of it disgusted him.

Yami's eyes filled with hatred and loathing and the snarl that escaped his lips was menacing. He threateningly stepped towards the fragment, intent on shoving it back into its worthless tomb and making sure it never, ever, ever would be able to breathe the light of day again, wouldn't have the strength to even crawl, wouldn't even be able to make a sound after he was through with it—

And the fragment's fear hit it like a wrecking ball and it couldn't stop the painful sob that wrenched itself from its lips, and Yami smirked a cruel, sinister smirk, revelling in the confirmation that what he was doing was right, that this part of him was so, so weak and it deserved to be forgotten and destroyed. He advanced it as a predator would to prey and the fragment cowered, shook, and for its weakness, Yami would show it no mercy—

But then suddenly there was a firm grip on his upper arm, stopping him in his tracks. Yami's glare flashed angrily as he turned his attentions back to Yuugi, frustration and rage rolling off of him in violent waves. His whole form was trembling with anger, his muscles taunt with the desire to lash out—somewhere deep inside him, he hoped that Yuugi would tread carefully so that he wouldn't lash out at him.

(Too late, too late—who was he kidding, it was already too late.)

Yuugi's head was bent and if the circumstances were different, Yami would have taken his posture as a show of defeat. But the hand that gripped him spoke otherwise and when Yuugi looked up, there wasn't a trace of helplessness in his expression. He looked more than ready to fight. Yami ignored the bruise that was beginning to show on Yuugi's jaw and instead focused on trying to glare the boy down. His frustrations rose when Yuugi did not submit to him.

"Yuugi..." Yami warned, growling. "If you know what's best for you, then you better let me go."

Yuugi didn't look away. "Or what?" he said, voice quiet. "You'll hit me?"

Yami's violet gaze hardened and something inside him he chose to ignore trembled. "Yes."

(There was another cry, but they both chose to ignore it.)

Yuugi's grip slackened somewhat and something in Yami's chest seemed to lift. It felt a whole lot like relief. Yami's angry glare became blank and he began to walk away, towards the fragment, intent on finishing his job properly this time—

"You can hit me, if that's what you want."

Yuugi's voice made him stiffen and still, as if he'd been turned into stone.

"I mean, I'm already pretty used to beatings. I kind of grew up with them, you know. And you don't hit as hard as some other people have."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Yami turned back to face him.

Yuugi was looking directly at him. "If it's you, Yami—then I don't mind if you hit me."

And it was the truth. This was no bluff, no plea for Yami's sanity. Sincerity poured out of him like a waterfall, crystal clear and powerful. Yami had known Yuugi for so long, knew the intimate shape of his soul, so he was aware that Yuugi's words were not empty. Yuugi had been hurt so many times, by so many people—from enemies to friends to strangers alike. He took hits as if they were natural, as if he accepted the fact that people instinctively wanted to hurt him. He was such an easy target, after all, because everyone knew he would never fight back. When they looked at Yuugi, all they saw was this small, meek boy that they could so easily beat up and push around—and he would take it, because there was nothing else he could—would—do, and if they abused him, assaulted him, wasn't that just the natural order of things?

"If hitting me will make you feel better—if hitting me will turn you back to normal—then I'll happily let you." Yuugi's eyes turned soft and a bruised smile started gracing his face. He opened up his arms to Yami as if inviting him into an embrace. "Go on, mou hitori no boku. It's okay."

If he was always so willing to offer himself up as a sacrifice, could people be blamed for accepting him as the substitute for their pain?

Yami's fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned a pasty white. His eyes were hard and his heart thudded heavily in his chest. He glared at Yuugi and Yuugi stared back, full of quiet reservation and acceptance.

Yami

hated

it.

HATED

IT.

At once, his whole being was filled with rage—

destructive, scorching—

the violence erupting from his chest like a supernova.

All he saw was red, red, red everywhere—bright like blood, thick and strangling. It made his body shake uncontrollably, made his head throb and pound like someone was driving a screwdriver directly into his brain, again and again and again. An inhuman noise ripped itself from his throat, something like a snarl, a growl, a roar, choked and wild and monstrous. Everything around him was collapsing in a whirlwind of incredulous, disbelieving wrath and he howled, the sound ricocheting harshly against the hard, stone walls of his soul room, of this labyrinth.

He wanted to lash out. He wanted to strike down everything—without any consideration to who or what it was—just as long as his hands were hitting something, destroying something—

He was losing his mind—

Vision flooded with deadly red and black and static, darkness—blind—he was blind with fury—

He felt his fingers drawing blood.

When the all-consuming emotion passed him, he was out of breath, panting heavily, his chest heaving and his lungs struggling to work, to breathe. His ears were ringing and his vision was blurred—where was he, what was he doing, where was—and he looked up frantically, seeking and desperate and a cry in his throat—

And there was Yuugi, standing before him, eyes filled with concern and so, so many questions and on his lips spilled out, "Yami? Yami? Mou hitori no boku? Yami?"

His heart shuddering in his chest (oh God, he was okay, he was okay), Yami finally let Yuugi bring his fists down from his head and he saw why he felt blood on his fingers.

He'd dug his nails into his own palm, grotesquely piercing skin.

Yami's whole body was shaking and he couldn't stop, couldn't control himself. He tried to swallow the bile that threatened to hurl itself from his gut. Yuugi was still staring at him with that same concerned gaze, still saying his name softly, trying to bring him back—oh God where had he been—and Yami shook his head, trying to dispel the previous violent rage that had consumed his mind. He staggered away from Yuugi, breaking the contact that he had no right taking comfort from, and stammered, "I-I…"

"Mou hitori no boku…!"

Yami shook his head harshly once, twice, growling. He released a shaky breath, still feeling like his heart had been dislodged into his throat, and precious moments passed when he tried to compose himself, regain control of his own body. Thankfully, Yuugi didn't approach him; the youth waited, watching Yami with wide, worried, bewildered eyes. When Yami's heart decreased in speed from a life-threatening sprint to a heavy, thudding throb, he licked his lips and tested his voice. "I…" His vision was still blurred and he didn't lift his head. He tried again. "I don't… want to hit you…"

There was silence, stretching on for hours, a millennia.

"Yuugi. I don't want to hit you."

A small, timid step.

"I never want to hit you."

Another step, a weak, shaky breath.

"I never want to hurt you."

A hand, reaching out—

"I never…"

Yami felt a soft hand on his cheek, lifting his head up. Wide, violet eyes met with gentle amethyst.

"Mou hitori no boku…" Yuugi whispered. "Why are you crying?"

… Ah.

Ah.

Was that why his vision was so blurry?

"… I hate it, aibou," Yami confessed, his voice a quiet, strangled thing. His tears fell faster yet, his chest constricting in a way that was painful. "Aibou, I hate it… I hate it…"

Yuugi's own tears pricked his eyes and he couldn't help it—a trembling smile stretched itself on his face. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he'd called him aibou. He held Yami's face in both of his palms and pulled him close; he didn't need to glance over his shoulder to know that the fragment of Yami was no longer cowering by the doorframe. He knew—he knew that it wasn't there anymore. He knew just as surely as his heart was warming and beating and how he knew he loved this dark, broken spirit that Yami was back—that before him, the man he cradled between his tiny hands was the Yami that he knew.

"I hate it when you do those things, aibou," Yami said hoarsely, tears cool and free. They never looked away from each other. "You're always letting yourself get hurt for the sake of others. You're always playing the martyr. Always. Always."

Yuugi could never leave helpless people alone. He'd let himself get beat up for bullies he called his friends. He'd let himself suffer for the sake of elevating another's, and they'd never know what he did. He'd let himself lose the things close to him, for the sake of another not losing theirs. He'd rather himself be hurt than others be; he'd rather burn in a fire than leave a precious treasure of his alone. He'd rather he sink to the bottom of the ocean, if that meant that his best friend would live. He'd rather have his own soul stolen than allow justice to punish the true sinner, the one who righteously deserved it, simply because he harboured a soul that loved too much. He'd rather be the one raped, than let another be.

"I hate it, aibou," Yami whispered brokenly. "I hate it. I hate it."

They fell to their knees, Yami's arms loose and limp at his sides and Yuugi still cradling his other's face, wiping the tears away. The pain was pouring out of the spirit in gentle waves. Somehow, it was worse than Yami's screams, worse than his howls of rage. It was just a constant, persistent surge of unspoken hurt and insecurities and anger, gathered for so long that it had become as large and as consuming as an ocean. From Yami's mouth, he confessed. He confessed his fears and his anger, his weakness and his regrets—he apologised for not being strong enough, for hating the part of Yuugi that made him so, so beautiful, and yet loving him because of it. He confessed his shame, his disgust, his self-loathing; he confessed his adoration, his admiration, how the only moments when he learned to love himself was when Yuugi did. To Yuugi, he bared his soul—

Tarnished and ripped and ugly and broken—

And Yuugi listened, kissing his brow, his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips, and patched the broken soul with haphazard touches and cries of his own. It was a clumsy treatment, full of holes and awkward stitching, but it was a start, it was a start—

When the air was filled with silence broken only by uneven breaths, Yuugi let go of Yami's face and slowly reached down between them. He gently grabbed Yami's still-fisted hands and brought them up to his face. He uncurled Yami's fists slowly and stared at the blood that caked his palms and fingers. With Yami watching him like a hawk, Yuugi placed a tender kiss on each of the crescent-shaped wounds on his upturned palms. The spirit's breath hitched and his eyes swam with an emotion that looked like adoration mixed with pain.

"Yuugi…" Yami said quietly. "Why don't you hate me?"

"I could never hate you," Yuugi murmured, his lips brushing like feathers across Yami's sensitive, wounded skin. He looked up and met Yami's eyes. "I can be angry at you. I can hate what you do so much that the feeling would burn me. But I could never hate you."

Yuugi's gaze, while gentle, was piercing. Yami felt a residue of panic that was an echo of the fear from before. How can Yuugi see all of him, know the darkness and the shredded tatters of his soul, and still look like he adored him? He couldn't understand, couldn't comprehend—

Nobody loved ugly things. Especially not someone as pure as Yuugi.

Yuugi held Yami's hands, carefully and firmly. Yami noticed that his hands were smaller than his own. "How can I hate you…" Yuugi whispered, "when these hands of yours have always only tried to protect me?"

The words felt like a slap in his face. Yami's face twisted in hurt and sorrow and regret and he let out a strangled, "Yuugi—"

"See?" Yuugi lightly touched the wounds on his palms. "These are the signs, mou hitori no boku. These cuts on your palms tell me that even when you were consumed by your own darkness, even when you were lost to your rage, there was a part of you—the most important part—that never wanted to hurt me. Your sincere feelings—your true heart." He smiled at him, his eyes teary. "I believe in you, mou hitori no boku."

But even though his words rang with the echo of his true thoughts and feelings, all Yami could focus on was the bruise that blossomed on Yuugi's face. He didn't respond to Yuugi's words and instead reached out, his fingers gently touching the other's cheek. Yuugi closed his eyes and trembled a little then, sighing shakily. Yami couldn't help but focus on the dark shadows beneath the youth's eyes, the crease in his brow, the weary downturn of his lips. Regret and self-loathing flooded him and he drew in closer, mimicking Yuugi as he kissed his wounds, tenderly and sadly.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

And Yuugi let his own tears slip from his closed eyes, let Yami's repeated murmurings of hopeless repentance fall on his ears, allowed them to wrap around his broken heart.

"I'm sorry…"

Yuugi wrapped his arms around the other and fisted his hands against Yami's back. Yami embraced him closely, gently pulling Yuugi's head to his chest and cradling him close to his heart. "I'm sorry, aibou—I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"I'm sorry too, mou hitori no boku."

"I'm sorry for everything—for letting those things happen to you—"

"I'm sorry for being blind, mou hitori no boku—"

"—for being so damn selfish—"

"Me too, for being selfish too—"

"I'm sorry for being a monster—"

"You're not a monster, you're just human—"

"Please forgive me, even though I don't deserve it—"

"You do deserve it, I forgive you, just—"

"How do you exist, how can you—"

"—just please forgive me too."

Yuugi's grip tightened on Yami's clothes.

"For a long, long time," he said, his voice quaking, "you were hurting, weren't you? For a long, long time, you were carrying this burden all on your own. You were carrying all this pain and you didn't even say anything; you just let me do what I wanted to do and I didn't even think…"

Yami shook his head, full-heartedly denying the excuse Yuugi was trying to give him; what he'd done was inexcusable, it didn't matter, his pain didn't matter because he was supposed to be the strong one—

And only weak people did the things he'd done.

"You care so much for me, mou hitori no boku… I can only imagine how much it hurt you when I was taken away…" Yuugi squeezed him. "I'm sorry."

Yami shuddered.

"No, don't apologise—"

"I'm sorry."

A heartbeat.

"I'll consider your feelings more, mou hitori no boku. I'll take care of myself more. I'll try not to worry you so much anymore. I'm sorry."

Yami squeezed his eyes shut and held him tighter. "You're ridiculous," he said, suddenly feeling tremendously weary. "Honestly, how do you exist."

"Mmm," Yuugi hummed, just as tired. They both felt drained, battered—utterly and completely exhausted. Their throats were aching and their eyes were dry. Their bodies sagged into each other and the only reason why they were still sitting upright was because they were holding each other. Yami leaned back and dragged Yuugi with him, gently pulling the shorter one into his lap.

The stone floor was cold.

Yami held Yuugi close—

Close like he was the most precious thing in the world.

Yami was no fool. He knew that not everything between them was fixed and that only time could heal the deepest wounds. After such a long time not properly communicating with each other, they found that they couldn't quite fall back into the same, seamless pattern of interactions that they had before. It didn't surprise Yami in the least, despite the fact that it caused his heart to ache horribly.

Yami had wrongs to right and even he couldn't achieve that overnight.

So they took little steps, tentative and shy—but they were steps in the right direction.

First, Yami made sure that he was there when Yuugi needed him. Yami would be there after every nightmare that Yuugi had, calling out for the spirit in tears and panicked breaths. Every time Yuugi woke up with Yami's name on his lips, he would catch sight of the spirit right by his side—

And the look of utter and complete surprise would always take over his expression, stiffening his body and rendering him still.

Yami's stomach would churn shamefully at that reaction.

Then Yuugi would reach out to him as if he couldn't quite believe he was there. His amethyst eyes still plagued by the memories of his nightmare, he'd huff out in confusion, in hopeful caution, "… Yami…?"

And Yami would reach out with transparent hands and he'd imagine that he was able to touch him, was able to brush away the sweat from his brow. "I'm here," he'd say.

A strange, pained emotion would cross Yuugi's sleep-deprived face and he'd let out a sob, a whine, before collapsing back onto his bed and curling into a ball, shaking. Yami would watch him, would take the stabs to his heart silently, and stayed there with his aibou and listened to his cries until Yuugi fell asleep with tears streaming down his eyes.

Second, Yami made sure to stay out of his way when Yuugi wanted to be left alone. He was careful not to smother him, not to drown him with his presence. Yuugi appreciated this. Sometimes, he just wanted to cry alone. Sometimes, he just wanted to do things that made him forget, and whenever he looked at Yami, sometimes he wasn't strong enough to block the memories away.

Third, Yami tried to have Yuugi readjust to touch. Even though Yuugi had forgiven him, his body still remembered. He couldn't help but flinch sometimes, couldn't help but expect pain. Yami worked diligently to erase that fear away. He'd give Yuugi gentle caresses, would give him soothing massages. At first contact, Yuugi would tense, but then he'd force himself to relax under Yami's tender touch.

This was important to Yami—it was important that Yuugi learned not to instinctively fear touch anymore.

After all, it wasn't only Yami that Yuugi flinched away from.

Yuugi didn't like it when anyone touched him. An unexpected grab, a surprise hug from behind, would cause him to have a panic attack. His body would lash out, nearly violently, despite the fact that the person who touched him was just a fan, one of his friends, his grandpa. But who it was didn't matter. Contact with anyone unexpected would cause his heart to seize up in fear and images of that would flash unwanted in his mind. He hated how his body reacted to this—especially when his friends didn't know why he suddenly slapped their embraces away, the hurt and confusion clear in their eyes.

He felt anxious in crowds, as well. He didn't take the same path home again either, never let himself come near to that park.

Yuugi was filled with irrational fear and dark memories that he wanted to forget, but couldn't. Yami took full responsibility and carried him, became his pillar of strength when Yuugi was too weak to stand on his own. Whenever Yuugi staggered, Yami was there. Whenever his heart leapt in fear, Yami was there to soothe him, reassure him. Whenever Yuugi felt like running away, Yami was there to whisk him away into a cocoon of safety and warmth, and he'd instead stand in his place.

Yami would hold him during the nights Yuugi sought out the spirit and he'd kiss his fears away.

Their souls were broken, bruised, battered—

But every time Yuugi shakily smiled, every time he relaxed a split second quicker after an unexpected hug, every time Yuugi himself would find the courage to touch him, every sign that flashed that told them that they were making progress, that little by little he were healing—

Was not only a reflection of Yuugi's soul being slowly, painstakingly pieced back together, but Yami's too.

They had a long way to go—

But they were getting there.

Chapter 4: End

A little shorter than the previous chapters, but a lot happened. I think we need a breather, ne?

The next chapter will be the last chapter. Hope you stay tuned for the conclusion!