Chapter Four (Hell Again)

I didn't sleep well after the spirit's visit, though not for the reason you might expect. Of course I was shaken by the spirit's threat, and of course I was horrified to see how quickly he had returned. But then again, it wasn't too unusual for him to say something awful to me in the night, and I hadn't really expected him to stay away for long, anyway.

The reason I had trouble sleeping was the dream. Every time I closed my eyes, it was the same. It always started with a burning sensation in my chest that made it difficult to breathe. It felt as though a rough, clawed hand was squeezing my lungs, and no matter how much air I managed to pull in around the pressure it was never enough.

Then I became aware of my blood pounding through my veins and urging me to move faster, faster, faster! The rhythmic slap of sneakers against concrete rose to a frantic tempo as my aching legs struggled to keep up. And that was when I realized that I was running.

I was running down a long, empty street. Everything—the sky, the pavement, even my skin—was red in the fiery blaze of the setting sun. It was as though a giant with a macabre sense of humor had picked up a paintbrush and coated everything in a layer of blood. From somewhere far, far away, I heard a voice shouting, "Come back, Bakura; come back!"

I don't know why I was running away from that voice. It didn't sound threatening. It sounded sad; tearful, even. I wanted to look behind me to see who it belonged to, but the dream would only permit me to look straight ahead, at the overpass I was about to cross.

I never made it to the other side of that overpass, of course. Halfway across I would always trip on my shoelace (or maybe I tripped over nothing at all—I tend to do that a lot), and tumble through a gap in the railing and down, down, down—into my bed, where I would jerk awake to find myself shaking and drenched with sweat. After my heart stopped thundering against my chest, I would roll over and go back to sleep—only to repeat the whole thing.

By the time the sun came up, I was so frazzled I decided that sleep was a lost cause and rolled out of bed to see about getting a bit of breakfast. I tiptoed down the hall, careful not to wake anybody up. It was early—before six o'clock—and a Saturday. I was sure that even my mother, early riser that she was, would appreciate at least one more hour of sleep.

In the kitchen, I dug through the pantry until I found a bag of croissants and poured myself a glass of apple juice. I also found a pad of paper and a pen. As I munched on a mouthful of croissant, I wrote, Went to the library to do some research. Will be back before lunch. Love, Ryou. Then I brushed my teeth, put on my favorite jeans and tee-shirt, and left the apartment with my list of articles in hand.

The prefecture library was a long way from my apartment. It was far enough that under normal circumstances, I would have taken the train to get there. I decided to walk instead to enjoy the sun before it got warm enough to give me a sunburn. (I've been known to get sunburns even in the dead of winter if the sun is particularly bright, so strolling along outside in the April sun was a rare treat.) I also wasn't sure that the library would be open by the time I got there if I took the train.

It was cooler outside than I'd expected it to be, but I didn't mind. The crisp air felt good and my head felt clearer than it had ever since I'd woken up in this strange new reality. There were no cars on the road, no people out for a morning stroll. Everything was quiet—the sort of magical stillness that only exists in the early hours of a weekend morning. Out of the house and away from the spirit, enjoying the feel of a day about to begin, it was hard to believe I was on my way to investigate something that could bring it all crashing down around my ears.

Admittedly, I had no idea what I was going to find when I got to the library. If I'd have been just a little more naïve, just a little less familiar with the spirit, I might have been able to believe myself when I thought, Maybe there won't be anything there at all. Instead, all I could think was, Do I really want to spoil this? Amane and mother alive; Shosuke and Natsuko—do I really want to let him ruin it all?

My steps faltered at that idea. I wanted to go back. I wanted to turn around and forget about the library and the list in my hands and go home. I was sure that if I hurried I could still make it back in time to surprise mother and Amane with a hot breakfast. I wanted to do it so, so badly. I kept walking forward.

When I got to the library a little over an hour later, the doors were just being opened to the public. It appeared as though I wasn't the only one who had business to attend to at the library. There was quite a crowd waiting to get inside, and I had to wait in line between an old woman with an armful of books and a gruff-looking man who was wearing torn jeans and a wrinkled shirt.

Once I was finally inside, I went to the information desk and said, "Excuse me; where are your newspaper archives?"

The woman behind the desk was a petite, elderly lady with a kind face. She looked up at me through a pair of small, wire-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose and said, "Are you looking for recent news or are you looking for older editions?"

"Er…I want to look up articles from about two years ago."

"In that case we should still have a hard copy. You'll have to go down to the basement, I'm afraid. If you want anything from more than five years ago, you'll have to use the microfiche machines."

I smiled, thanked her, and left before she decided to ask any questions.

When I'd heard the way she'd said the word 'basement', I'd expected a dismal, dungeon-like pit with flickering torches and possibly rats. The basement was deserted when I arrived, but much to my relief, it was far from dismal. Between the long rows of florescent lights and the white tile floor, it was bright enough to make my eyes sting. Rats wouldn't stand a chance down here, I thought as I searched through the stacks. It's too clean.

I'm not sure how long I spent poring over the articles on my list. I do remember that the first few were not at all what I was looking for. (In fact, one of them was nothing more than a critical review of a high school production of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.)

It was the fifteenth article that made my blood run cold.

Promising Young Soloist Passes Away

Yuka Murakami, a student at Fukushima prep school collapsed at school and passed away while being transported to the hospital yesterday afternoon. Murakami had been on her way to attend a choir rehearsal when she suddenly collapsed. A fellow student who was with her at the time of the collapse called for an ambulance.

Hospital staff believe that Murakami's death may have been caused by an underlying heart condition. Murakami was known to suffer from hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, a condition which can obstruct blood flow and prevent the heart from functioning properly.

A serious student and popular with her peers, Murakami was active in student government and also showed great promise as a singer. "She was a wonderful, hard-working girl and an excellent soprano" said choir teacher Reiko Aoshima "This is a terrible tragedy; we will all miss her very much."

Murakami was a two time winner of the prefecture-wide music contest.

I stared at the article in my hands, gripping the paper so tightly it bunched between my fingers. The word "choir" glared up at me so sharply it might as well have been highlighted in florescent yellow ink. I shook my head. It's a coincidence, I thought, even though in my heart of hearts I knew the truth. It has to be a coincidence.

It only took one more article to wipe the last shred of denial from my mind.

Major Health Threat Suspected as Fukushima Prep Suffers Fourth Tragic Loss

Health officials have begun an in-depth investigation regarding the mysterious deaths of four students at Fukushima prep school. Four members of the school's well-known choir, Yuka Murakami, Chiaki Kuwabata, Maki Tamura, and Sadako Shibata collapsed and suddenly passed away either at or on their way to scheduled after school choir rehearsals.

"The choir is clearly the common link here, so that is where we will start our investigation," said Takeshi Goto, a public health official.

Fukushima prep will take an unscheduled two day break in order to facilitate the investigation. Extracurricular clubs are encouraged to meet off-campus during this time, but students who are active in the choir are requested to undergo a medical examination before participating.

Amane Bakura Takes Top Honors at Prefecture Music Contest, I numbly thought as I returned the newspaper to its place on the shelf. I understood now why I had seen no figurines in her room. Amane had never had any trouble making friends like I had, but she'd always had a competitive streak when it came to her singing. You always had to be the best, didn't you? I thought.

I stayed there in the stacks for a long time, hating myself for thinking that Amane could be taken in on something as petty as a promise for stardom; hating the spirit for knowing exactly how to exploit a person's dreams and twist them into something disgusting; hating the spirit for corrupting my sister into a murderer; hating myself for allowing it to happen by giving her the Ring in the first place…. And when I was finally too tired and too hollow to find any more reasons to hate the spirit or myself I thought, I have to fix this.

It wasn't meant to be like this, I thought. I have to make everything go back to the way it was before. Go…back….

"Go back," I muttered. I think I know how.

I left the library and went home with the greatest sense of peace I had experienced since I'd received that fateful package from my father two years ago. True to the note I had left, I returned home just before lunch. My father was out—whether he was at the museum or at an excavation in Egypt, I did not know. It didn't matter. In a way, I preferred it being just the three of us—Amane, mother, and I.

"Did you finish all your research?" my mother asked as we all slurped away at big bowls of homemade ramen.

I smiled. "Yes, I did."

Amane wrinkled her nose. "Really, big brother, you're the only person I know who would do school work on a Saturday morning."

I didn't say anything in response. I was content to just enjoy a meal made by someone who loved me and savor the sound of my sister's voice. If I was careful to avoid looking at the Millennium Ring, I could almost pretend that everything was the way it had been before.

I won't tell you everything we did and said that day. Perhaps it's selfish, but that is something I want to keep for myself. To tell you the truth, there's not much to tell. After all, neither of them knew that it was the last time they would see me again, and I wasn't about to tell them. I was content to spend the entire day with them, just watching them go about their business. I wanted to make sure that I remembered every special mannerism forever. The way mother sang songs to her plants as she watered them. The way Amane twirled her hair around her index finger when she was thinking about something. The way mother always smelled like miso soup, even underneath the flowery perfume she liked to wear. The way Amane liked to tug on my sleeve to get my attention when she had something she wanted to say. I tucked it all away into a private corner of my mind.

I waited until after dinner to say my goodbyes. First, I told my mother that I was going out with a few friends—"Shosuke and Natsuko and a few other friends from school," I'd said. She just smiled and told me to have fun and not to come home too late.

"I won't," I answered, and felt my gut twist when I realized that I didn't want the last thing I said to my mother to be a lie. I swallowed and added, "I love you, mother."

Mother seemed surprised by the sudden affection. She furrowed her brow, but offered a smile and said, "I love you, too." Somehow, that was enough.

I headed down the hall to Amane's room. I hesitated at the door. This was the part I'd been dreading more than anything else. I hoped I didn't embarrass myself by crying in front of her.

I knocked once and pushed the door open. She was sitting at her computer, but she turned around to face me when I came in. I noticed that there was a Word document on the screen and wondered if she was writing something for school.

"I'm going out for the night," I said. Somehow—I don't know how—I managed to keep my voice casual.

"Oh—can I come with you?"

I had to swallow a lump in my throat before I answered, "No; I'm sorry." I knew I wouldn't be able to do the thing I had to do if she was there watching.

She rolled her eyes. "Well then why did you bother to tell me?"

"Amane…." I trailed off and nervously licked my lips. How could I possibly say everything I needed to say—all the things I'd wanted to say for over two years? Finally, I said, "I love you very much. Never forget that."

"All right…. I love you, too, of course."

My throat itched. I could feel a sob rolling up into my mouth. I disguised it as a cough. Then I said, "I love you, and that's why I'm going to fix this."

She frowned. "Fix what?"

Before I could reply, her eyes went cold and her mouth crooked up into a smirk. The voice that came out of her mouth was a harsh parody of her usual confident but kind tone.

"I thought we went over this last night," the spirit spat. "This girl belongs to me and she always will."

The spirit was still talking, but I didn't have any interest in talking to him, so I did something that was almost as satisfying as spending one last day with Amane and my mother had been. I turned around and I left.

There was an indignant squawk from the spirit, and I heard him snarl, "How dare you turn your back on me when I'm talking to you? Get back here, you little worm!" Then I closed the apartment door behind me and heard nothing else.

Once I was out of the apartment building, I hurried to the train station. Part of me was afraid that if I waited too long I would lose my nerve.

My hands shook as I watched the buildings whip by from my seat on the train. I don't know whether they were shaking from fear or whether it was from the excitement of knowing that no matter what the spirit thought, I was going to free Amane from him. I prefer to think that it was the latter.

The sun was a red disk on the horizon when I got off the train at Kannai station. Everything was bathed in red as I ran down the road. The sky, the pavement—even my skin was tinted pink.

Come back, Bakura, I thought. I wasn't running away from the voice; I was running to meet it.

I didn't trip when I reached the overpass like I had in the dream. Instead, I came to an easy stop in front of the three-foot gap in the railing and stood there staring at drop before me. I stayed like that for a few minutes, watching the sun sink lower.

I felt a pang as the sky darkened from blazing red to electric purple. I never got to see Shosuke again, I thought. Can I really just leave without saying goodbye to him? Or telling him I'm sorry? And what about mother? And Amane—can I stand to lose Amane again?

It was that last thought that brought me out of my reverie. "I'm not losing her," I whispered. "I'm saving her."

It's now or never, I thought. I turned around so that the gap was directly behind me and stretched my arms wide. And with a sigh, I let myself tip back, back, back, until there was no possible way to stop myself. My feet left the ground and then I was freefalling—tumbling through the air with the ground rushing up to meet me.

I closed my eyes and then I felt something soft but firm behind my back and I realized that I was no longer falling. I felt…not pain, but something that probably would have been pain if not for the thin IV line that was dripping a clear fluid into my right arm. There were more tubes—oxygen tubes—snaking over my ears, across my face, and under my nose.

A person was slouched in a chair beside my bed, asleep—a man I hadn't seen in years.

"Father?" I croaked.

My voice was such a weak warble I would have been surprised if he'd have heard it even if he was awake. Even so, he stirred, rubbed at his eyes and groggily replied, "Ryou?"

"Father, what are you—"

"Don't talk, son," he said. "You had us all very worried."

"Oh. I—I'm sorry." It must have been serious if he flew all the way here from Egypt, I thought.

"Don't be sorry; I'm just glad to see you awake," he answered. He stood up and added, "I've got to let the nurse know you're awake. I'll be back in just a minute."

As soon as my father was out of the room, the spirit decided to put his own two cents in.

"Well what do you know," sneered the voice in the back of my mind. "I suppose you're not as pathetic as I thought after all." A pause then: "Welcome back to hell, landlord."

I sighed. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Author's Notes: Oh my goodness—did I actually finish a story? What is this world coming to? I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I may or may not be writing another Yu-gi-oh! story in the near future. I've been tossing around some ideas for a Yami Bakura-centric piece for a while now, so we'll see how that goes.

Thanks to millenniumthief and Ryou VeRua for your kind reviews—hope the ending was satisfactory!