[Trigger warning: mention of suicidal ideation]
So much had passed between them.
Bakura had been like a thorn in their side,
Constant, throbbing, seeking to inflict pain.
That he wondered if they'd want anything to do with him.
Would they shun him, keep their distance?
Leave him to fend for himself as he had for so long?
Bakura didn't know what to anticipate.
They'd be justified, he thought, at times,
In shunning him.
The Evil spirit that had possessed him had wreaked so much havoc
Hell bent on nothing but power and pain.
And Bakura left with little more than an explanation
That it wasn't him, he was simply, and terribly possessed.
Sometimes he even thought of ending it,
Putting a stop to the madness of fighting,
And waking up in strange places.
And the pain the Spirit caused so many.
But he knew that would only be a temporary fix,
The Spirit of the Ring did not rest,
Even for death.
After all was said and done,
Bakura would understand,
If they found it best to seek some peace.
Instead,
He found a steadying hand when he collapsed in the Pharaoh tomb.
And an invite to lunch with Yugi and his friends.
After all they'd been through.
They still held on to the goodness that was in each person.
As it seems they would not let Bakura fall.
They'd keep him afloat with friendship and laughter.
That they each kept like an oath.
Bakura was welcomed and even understood.
What else could he have expected from these friends,
Who fought for the world with friendship on their side?