Author's Notes: Part 2/2 of a birthday set for Cryptographic Delurk. I am mixing canons in this story, as Ryuuji's background is from the manga, but events from the anime are referenced. Is anyone really keeping track? Canon is a construct anyway. If you know, you know.

Warnings: Family issues, grudges, mild swearing. Well, one F-bomb is considered mild to me. What someone else considers mild is a matter of personal taste so idk

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! is copywritten to Kazuki Takahashi and Konami.

"Finally," Shizuka sighed, "the last box."

She unceremoniously dumped out the contents, several plastic bags with paint tubes thumping flatly on the laminate wood floor. She had been more careful and meticulous at the beginning of the move, treating each canvas, brush, pastel, charcoal stick, graphite pencil, and jar of paint with a practiced reverence. But Shizuka had also been in charge of unpacking and decorating the entire apartment for the last month and a half, putting away the kitchen utensils and dishes they did have, and going out to buy what they didn't.

She was in charge of picking out the furniture and telling the movers where to place them, picking out a new mattress and bed frame, picking out the curtains, and updating the curtain rods that hadn't been replaced since the mid-'80s—only after removing the wallpaper and painting the walls in each room with the colors she liked, before painstakingly redoing the trim around all the windows. She didn't even want to think about the work that still needed to be done in the bathroom, so she focused on the artist grade paints in her hands.

She still didn't have a "home" in mind for the acrylic tubes, but she figured, for now, it would be best to place them all in the bottom drawer of her art desk. She took a strip of masking tape and a marker, labeling it "HEAVY BODY ACRYLICS."

A part of her knew some semblance of an organizational system was for naught. Her studio would become a mess, in due time. A whirlwind of canvas and color, an abode to call her own when she wasn't showcasing her work in the local gallery, or visiting Ryuuji at his new office building within walking distance of their new home.

When she was younger, she hadn't envisioned living in a fancy apartment with multiple bedrooms, nor did she have any specific aspirations of sharing a space with a long-term boyfriend. The art career was about the only dream that stayed consistent, but the living amenities and the stable partner were pleasant surprises to her life plan.

As though feeling her thoughts, a slender hand with an array of wrist bands wrapped around the edge of the door to push it open. A meticulously gelled mass of black hair and iconic eyeliner (not as heavy as it had been back in his teens, but still very much present) poked in to take a good look at her work.

"It looks like a fine artist's studio," Ryuuji whistled in appreciation. "But where are you going to put the futon?"

"… What?" Shizuka asked, pulling away from her desk. "Why would I need to put a futon in my studio?"

"For guests?" Ryuuji said, stepping into the room and opening the door as far as it could go on its hinges. "I just thought, well, if any of our friends or family wanted to stay over for a weekend—"

"Then they can sleep on the couch," Shizuka said bluntly. She stood up straight and placed her hands on her hips.

"That's not very private though, is it?" Ryuuji asked, still smiling, albeit uneasily.

"Then they can change in the second bathroom," Shizuka said.

"Well, yes, but that doesn't feel all that welcoming, does it?"

"Our friends would understand. Onii-chan would understand. We only have one bedroom," Shizuka said pointedly.

"Two bedrooms," said Ryuuji with a similar tone.

"One bedroom and two home offices," Shizuka emphasized. "Do whatever you want with your office, but my private work space is not meant for sleeping."

"Okay, but in case anyone we know has an emergency—"

"Someone's poor planning and life choices doesn't constitute an emergency on our part," Shizuka said. Ryuuji was taken aback.

"That's kind of cold, coming from you."

"What's cold is you suggesting I turn my studio into an extra guest room when you're standing there refusing to take measures to alter your own office!" Shizuka shouted. "If you want to host guests, put the futon in your room!"

"I don't have room for a futon; I gave you the bigger room."

Ryuuji realized his mistake too late.

"You gave me the room?" Shizuka asked, crossing her arms in a defensive posture. "Last I checked, we both agreed I could use the room with the extra space because I need a place to store my canvases."

"Yes, but—"

"I need that extra space to do my artwork, Ryuuji," Shizuka sighed. "It's not like what you do with your gaming company. I don't have a spare office in my own building within walking distance of this apartment. Between here and the gallery, this is all I have for myself."

"Yes, but I could afford to do without distractions when I'm home. I actually have to get work done in my office," Ryuuji said, and once again, he realized his error too late.

"Excuse me?" Shizuka seethed. "You need to get work done? What do you think I do in my studio all day?!"

Ryuuji cringed at the shrill tone bouncing off the walls.

"You don't think my art is real work," Shizuka said. "You don't think what I do is 'real work.'"

"Shizuka, that's not what I meant to say,"

"But that's exactly what you're implying!" Shizuka cried. "I can't believe you. You sound just like my moth..."

Ryuuji's eyes flickered, and he grimaced when he saw the stinging resentment wash over her features.

"That's exactly what this is about, isn't it?" Shizuka hissed. "You've been talking to her, haven't you?"

"I haven't talked to your mother since your graduation last year," Ryuuji said. "Which is honestly kind of sad."

"What is sad is you trying to get me to let her come here when you know precisely how I feel about her," Shizuka said. Frankly, a year wasn't enough time between face-to-face interaction with her mother. She could live quite well without the constant questions, the constant pressure, the constant challenges and judgments and commentary of her dreams and life choices.

She could live quite well without it, at all.

"You know what she said when she found out I was planning on becoming a professional artist?'Are you sure you're going to be able to support yourself doing that?'"

"She was just showing concern for your future," Ryuuji said.

"No, she was expressing concern about her future," Shizuka said. "She wasn't asking if I was going to be able to support myself. She was asking if I was going to be making enough money to support her. Because somehow I'm the one who is supposed to bail her out of the mess she made of her own life—well before I came along."

"She just wants to visit us, Shizuka. For a weekend, and even if something else were to happen—"

Shizuka glowered at the suggestion. Ryuuji held his hands up, exposing his palms in a non-offensive gesture.

"—isn't it the right thing to do? Isn't that what family does?" Ryuuji asked. "You support each other if times get hard."

"Not my family," Shizuka said morosely. "For us, it's a matter of enduring whomever is an inconvenience, and making passive aggressive comments about how that person is an inconvenience every day."

"..."

"You know, I was going blind back then, but I was never deaf. That didn't stop them from talking about what they were going to do with me if I couldn't get the surgery."

"Shizuka—"

"If I was a dog, they would have left me in an alley somewhere so they wouldn't have had to deal with my disability."

"Shizuka, that's cruel. Your family wouldn't have done that."

"Yes, they would."

Ryuuji opened his mouth, but Shizuka quickly cut him off.

"And don't tell me 'I don't know that.' I know this is true because my grandmother said those exact words outside my bedroom on my thirteenth birthday. They thought I was asleep."

"… Okay, that is messed up. But that was your grandmother who said that, not your mother."

"Yes, but my mother didn't say anything in my defense." She formed fists at her side, burning a hole into the wall beside Ryuuji's head. "She never said 'that's horrible' or 'how dare you' or 'I disagree'. She just stood there and said nothing."

"Well, maybe she doesn't know how to deal with her mother either," Ryuuji said exasperatedly. "Don't you think she was stressed out too, living with someone who would say something like that? Don't you think maybe her childhood wasn't perfect? Don't you think that maybe she was so desperate to leave, she ran away to start a new life with the first guy who showed interest? Don't you think it was hard for her to return to a home with painful memories because the alternative would have left you both on the street? Don't you think she just didn't know what to say, or didn't know what else to do? Don't you think she was scared of what her parents would have done to her if she retaliated? Don't you think she felt powerless back then too?"

"… You're seriously doing this right now?" Shizuka seethed. "You're seriously trying to compare my experience with hers?"

"I'm not comparing you two. I'm asking you to have some empathy for the woman who tried to provide for you, and probably really wants to see you again."

"You really did talk with her during my graduation," Shizuka said bitterly. "Let me guess. She painted herself as a saint who made countless sacrifices on my behalf and emphasized how much she had to give up because my condition was such a drag on her wallet."

"No, actually. She said she made a lot of mistakes, she didn't have a lot of things figured out, regretted the decision to leave your brother behind with your father, and she wishes she had been a better mother to both of you."

"… She said all of that."

The words almost came out like a question. Instead, it had been uttered as a noncomittal statement.

"I really find that hard to believe."

Ryuuji shrugged, somewhat haplessly with his palms facing the ceiling.

"That may be, but I think that's because you're being a little self-centered at the moment."

Shizuka snarled in disbelief.

"You're seriously going to call me self-centered?! All over a fucking futon?!"

"This isn't about the futon; this is about family!" Ryuuji shouted. "Family isn't something you can just replace on a whim or ditch when times get tough. When your family needs help, or when they're trying to make amends, you don't leave them behind, or ignore them, or abandon them—you help them!"

"Because your dad helped you so much growing up."

Ryuuji blinked, his body going rigid at the words. He did his best to contain his own snarl as Shizuka glared at him, daring him to fight back.

"You don't—"

"Don't go lecturing me on my relationship with mother and proceed to tell me that's off limits."

"You don't know what he went through, Shizuka. You don't know how much he was suffering. He—"

"Raised you to be a tool for his vengeance and only expressed remorse when his plans backfired." Shizuka's tone was intense, piercing. "Yet somehow, you still respect him?"

"He's my father. Yes, what he did back then was wrong. He was in a dark place, and I was a part of that. We're all we had back then. I don't deny what he did, but he needed help, and he needed me to understand and forgive him. He wouldn't have gotten better—our relationship would not have gotten better—if I had treated him the way you're treating your mother right now."

Shizuka's mouth settled into a small, tight line, and her shoulders dropped. She looked away from him, to the floor, and turned around once more, with her back facing him.

"… You know, it's really funny, the way you say that. Not just you. Anzu, Yuugi, Honda, my brother: all of you talk so much about how we have to forgive people, not because they deserve it, but because we have to be better, for them. It's always the people with the scars who have to be kind. We have to forgive, and we have to heal, and the people who wronged us get to feel better too, and in the end, they don't have to pay. They get to move on, and live their lives, and feel better about themselves, because everything is forgiven. That's...

"That's just so, so funny."

There wasn't a trace of humor to be found in Shizuka's voice.

A sudden terror overcame Ryuuji. He stepped across the room, grabbed Shizuka and turned her, forcefully, so she was facing him. His eyes were wide, panicked, as he gripped her tightly at her triceps. She couldn't stand to look to at him then, how hurt he looked, how concerned, how scared, and she turned her attention back to the floor as he spoke.

"Revenge is a poison, Shizuka. Resentment is poison. I know what it does. I've seen it, I've felt it. It's a fire that tells you to feed it, and it grows out of control. It's an evil thing that eats you from the inside and leaves a husk behind when it's done. It kills the human part of you, Shizuka. It makes you and everyone around you suffer. I understand why you're angry. You have so many reasons to be angry, but I refuse to let you go down that road. Not if I can help it. Don't listen to the poison in your head. Don't feed it. My father fed it, I fed it, Pegasus fed it, Malik fed it, even Mai fed it, and I know you may not think so, but I am telling you, we all paid for it, in some way."

"Maybe Mai had a good reason to feed it," Shizuka muttered, looking away from his intense gaze. Ryuuji shook her, once, firmly, begging her to look at him.

"That doesn't make what she did right! And she, and your brother, almost died because of it!"

There was a desperate crack in his voice. The sound startled Shizuka, and she looked at him, surprised to see a wet sheen across his eyes.

"I know you get annoyed when I compare you to the kid you were, back when we met. You were naive, and timid, and—"

"I was a thirteen year old girl, Ryuuji."

"I know! But I... Sometimes, I still see what I saw back then."

"The girl who cried at the sight of a hologram scorpion eating other holograms?" Shizuka visibly cringed at the memory. The grown up part of her told her she couldn't handle seeing her big brother lose, but there would always be a small, petty part of her saying she couldn't stomach it because she thought (and still thinks) Rishid's ace monster was gross.

Shizuka wasn't expecting the reply she heard.

"The badass who ripped off her bandages and jumped into the bay to save her brother, because she believed in fighting for a life she wanted for herself, and fought for the people she cared about. And I don't want you to lose that. I don't want to see that part of you, the part that fights for a brighter future, to fade away."

"… You thought I was a badass?" Shizuka asked, feeling an odd warmth across her cheeks.

"You still are," Ryuuji affirmed. "Which is why you can find it in yourself to say some heinous shit sometimes."

There was a wry smirk to the words, and Shizuka immediately felt horrible when she remembered their argument.

"I'm so sorry what I said about your father," Shizuka said quickly, blushing out of shame. "That was out of line. I was so angry, about my mom, about the futon. That doesn't excuse what I said. I'm so—"

"I get it, Shizuka." Ryuuji pulled her close to his chest and kissed her on the forehead. "I do agree with you, though. What you said was not okay, but I get it. I do."

She returned the embrace and wrapped her arms around his back, savoring the contact as she they stood in her studio. It was quiet then, and the only noise that could be heard was the subtle buzzing of the old light bulb in the fixture above them.

"I don't know if I can forgive her," Shizuka finally said, her face settled in his chest. "I feel so shitty for saying it, but it's how I feel. I don't know if I can do it, and I don't know if I honestly believe she deserves it."

"I felt the same way with my dad," Ryuuji murmured into her hair. "It's hard to forgive, and I don't think I can really forget. But I was tired of being... well, tired. Having grudges and being pissed all the time. It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth holding on to."

"So what did you do? How did you get over it?"

"I don't think I 'got over it,' so much as I grew to feel differently about it. I just told myself to... be numb." She could feel Ryuuji shrug between their embrace. "I burned myself out at that point, but it helped me disassociate with... everything that happened. So I could talk with him between visits to the psychiatric ward, civilly, like a person, not an authority figure. So, I guess, try to see your mother not as your mother, but as a regular person, someone with their own flaws. It might help you accept her shortcomings, make the mistakes feel less like betrayal."

Ryuuji shrugged again.

"That's the only profound thing I can say."

Shizuka hugged him, tighter, and nuzzled his chest.

"I'll try," Shizuka whispered. "I can't promise or predict what will happen in the future, but when she does come to visit, I will try."

"That is good," Ryuuji said.

"… And I guess, I can move my canvases to make room for the futon," Shizuka sighed.

"Nah, don't do that. You were right. There is room in my office. We can put the futon in there," Ryuuji said. "I just have to re-locate what's left of my dice collection to the living room."

Shizuka's eyes bulged.

"You will move your dice for my mother?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not? I'm already thinking of a great display case I can buy for them, so the collection will really pop when you walk through the door."

The sensation of dread swelled in Shizuka's gut.

"Ryuuji, no."

"What? You're ashamed of guests seeing my dice collection?"

"N-No. No. Just—"

"You're ashamed of my dice!"

"Just, please, don't put the moose poop dice in the living room—"

"But it's part of the limited edition artisan collection!"

"Ryuuji, I am fine with putting the futon in my studio. Don't worry about it. You can keep your collection in your office."

"Because you're ashamed of all my dice!"

"I am not ashamed of all your dice. I just don't want resin encased moose droppings in the living room!"

Thus, another argument began anew.

Three weeks later, Shizuka's mother came to visit. She commented on how nice her daughter's studio was, and how comfortable the futon in Ryuuji's office was, and questioned, much to her daughter's embarrassment, why there was an enormous, multi-tiered display case of RPG dice lining the expanse of the living room wall (with a very rare and very expensive polyhedral set of preserved moose scat at the center).

END PART TWO