A Revenge
by Aier
A/N: I really, really hate my title. -_-; ....sorry, I just had to get that out. Anyway, this is the next chapter, and I've decided this isn't going to be a very happy fic. I've sort of figured out how it's going to end up, and I think it leans towards the sad-ending type. I'm still not sure though. ( By the way, this is not the last chapter. Or, it might be if people don't like the story, but it IS a sort of closure)
As will always be, a big 'thank you' to the people who reviewed!
Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh and it's characters don't belong to me, but the story does.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The day was clear, he noted with sullen interest. It was the kind of day that made one want to be outside, to take a deep breath of fresh air and go see old friends only for the sake of seeing them once more after long periods of separation. It was the kind of day that had a bright yellow sun in the sky, grassy green fields, and the softest shade of blues in the skies that would, that evening, turn to a fiery display that seemed created only for the passionate lovers of the world.
It was here that songbirds made their small nests. It was here one could, if one had the imagination and will, see the end of the rainbow only to see another behind that, and another, and the golden treasure that might not just be money.
This was a day of such happy things.
He could not think of a time when he'd hated a day such as this one with such a deep seeded resentment.
Ryou had never wished any harm to anyone. He was kind, or at least meant to be. He didn't wish to influence anything that meant mischief or pain. He had not thought that it would work; it had only been a little game he had played in one of his darker hours with Bakura. He had not really meant it, really he hadn't. It had seemed silly at the time, a little game that played with his hope for freedom.
He really had thought it was a simple game of his and nothings more...oh, damn it should have only been that...
What on earth was it that made grief gravitate to all that he touched?!
' That damned spell' he thought, trembling with rage. He wiped his eyes stubbornly and refused to look at anywhere else but the deep brown surface before him. The sun shone down cheerfully on him, and them, and he cursed it for the first time in his life.
He had loved the sun, it was in his nature to love such joyful things. Why did it not mourn with Ryou now? Why was it that the birds didn't stop their songs, if only for a moment, just a little one? He wished them silence, and the sadness he felt. Ryou was bitter...but he didn't rightly know at whom.
Was it himself that he loathed? God, it could be.
'If only I had never found it...if only I had just let it be...'
But he hadn't. And this was the result. And Ryou...he would never forgive himself for it. Never. He would carry the shame, if only to somehow make up for what he had done. What he had pushed on Yugi. Yugi didn't deserve this...Yugi should have never even met Bakura. Yugi should have always had Yami there to be with him. Yami, whom had shown Ryou a kindness and compassion for his problems he had never thought would be found. Yami, whom for all his pride and strength, had understood and helped him through a life-long pain of Ryou's.
Yugi should have had that. Ryou had been selfish...and weak. He knew he should have done something, sought help, anything.
What was it that drove his attention-starved mind to that place, that place that reeked of the old and buried, the dead, the uncovered sanctity, the hideous wealth of possessive ancestors, and publicised it under the safety of the title of 'history' and 'museum'? He knew the cost of possessing an item of old when the spirits were unhappy. Did it make them unhappy to be shown like that? Under glass cages, scrutinized and examined at every angle for the rest of their miserable days?
Why had they uncovered such a dangerous book, Ryou wondered desperately, wringing his hands and unknowingly scratching his trembling fingers. What was it that drove a human to probe and test his boundaries? And why had he played along too?
That book, a spell book of an exiled mage of the black arts. He told of a way to exchange auras, to even out the energies to obtain the desired outcome. It hadn't ever said anything about the items, the ring or the puzzle, and yet his frantic mind somehow made the connection.
What if it could help him escape the spirit within him?
His desire was so great, his shameless need for independence and tranquillity. He'd stolen the spell within his memory through the limited knowledge of Latin that he had. Oh, how long the evenings had been while he tried to make the language his own. All that effort, all that time inside a stuffy room with dusty books and frustrated half-answers...what did this make him now?
Hadn't he known something like this would happen? What made him become so blind to the situation? Everything had a consequence. It was the one thing he had never let himself forget, something Bakura had never let him forget...so why?
But Ryou...he knew...he knew why. It was because of something he didn't like to admit to.
It was his thoughtless greed, the part of him that would commit whatever crime necessary to escape the insanity of the other. The part that laughed in joy when he was no longer in his presence, knowing that it would not be him receiving the blows that night. The part that was all Ryou's, unbound from any shame or responsibility to anything or anyone.
Why should he care, when no one had cared for him while Bakura shredded every piece of his mind? He nervously raked a shaking hand through his damp hair, blinking against a drop of sweat that fell into his eye. The yellow sun hurt his eyes now. Why had he wanted this...?
Because he would be left in peace.
The spell, against all odds, had worked.
Yes, Ryou sobbed within his thoughts. He had been deliriously happy when he'd found out. But what of Yugi?
He should have done something. Ryou was strong, he knew that. There were options, other options, and he had not taken them. Cowardice. Ryou had been a coward not to do anything. All those times, Bakura had been right. Every insult struck him, and he knew it was true. He could have done something...
In a quiet, rasping voice, he repeated it again. The foreign words that had become his prayer of hope, turned to prayer of forgiveness on this day, morphing to curse as the seconds ticked off the watch. The spell once uttered and written in a mighty wrath by that olden mage.
He had been weak and selfish. He just had to get past petty fears, it was not so bad, he should have done something. He knew he could have somehow found the strength to ask for help. He wasn't completely helpless, he had only to think of taking the matter into his own hands. Ryou had been holding back for all this time. He knew that he could have gotten out by himself, with no casualties along the way.
He knew it.
He knew it.
A hand, frozen and pale, set down on his shoulder and Ryou noticed how hard he was shaking, the sickly feel of his clammy hands, and felt deep, raw sobs passing his lips. He clenched his eyes shut and willed his body to stop shaking, willed his sobs to stop. He needed to show respect. How could he be so disrespectful?! How?!
But they wouldn't stop, and no matter how hard he tried he just seemed to cry harder and feel guiltier and emptier and angrier and...and so, so helpless.
He knew it was Yami's hand that silently lay on his shoulder, offering what comfort the pharaoh could bear to give, but he was also painfully aware of why his hand was so cold. It was the reason all of them were here. It was the reason why Ryou would never be the same. It was the reason why no one moved to comfort him, and why it was so hard for Yami to offer what little he could.
They'd always been there, why not then? The one time it was truly needed?
But Ryou couldn't take it anymore, and he suddenly collapsed. His legs just...they just folded beneath him, lifeless, and his knees hit the ground with a harsh slam. He lay his palms on the hard deep brown wood and cried, his head hanging low as he was overcome with deep, rasping sobs of pure misery.
Behind him, Yami stood stiffly, looking blankly at the coffin before him. In the golden light of that morning, those red orbs shone with unusual brightness. His intent stare never strayed from the sight before him, ignoring the harsh sobs that rang through this beautiful morning.
The dark clothes he wore contrasted his childish nature sharply, they looked so unnatural on him that no one really believed that it was him that lay on that casket. They didn't want to. And he was so pale...
And now...
Yugi was dead. Nothing could change that.
And Ryou knew...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~