Darkness and Light
A Hikari and a Yami fit perfectly into that category of opposites. Sure, one could argue that not all qualities of a Yami are bad, and not all of a Hikari are good. After all, what better living proof is there? I won't deny that I've caused my share of terrible events. And flowing through those ice-cold veins of a Yami, there are still a few drops of kindness to be found.
Look at Yugi and his Yami… best friends, I think you'd call it. Ryou and his Yami… they share the most loyal and protective bond around. But what about little Malik Ishtar, and his big scary Yami? If he didn't depend on me to live, he'd be gone in a second. No prison could ever compare to the one that exists in my head. Yes, well, he had the courtesy not to cast me off into the shadow realm... but would that really have been worse than lying in a cold, unforgiving room for days on end?
I would do anything to feel his touch again, even if it meant another raw bruise. He'll come back soon enough; he can't stay away for long. He needs something to beat, something to tear and torture and torment. I'm all that he has, all that he ever had. A long time ago he would have walked into this room, grabbed me by the hand and pulled me out of this dim confinement. We would have walked hand in hand in the dark Egyptian air until the soles of our feet bled from the rough desert sand. We would rest on a cool slab of stone, dangling our aching toes into the cool water of a cherished oasis. It would be perfect, and beautiful… like it used to be. He would apologize for talking so long, and I would shake my head and confess that I had wished it lasted longer. I would feel a familiar knot in my throat when the moonlight gleamed off his sweaty shoulders. He would cock his head to the side, letting the untamed blonde hair drape coyly over his forehead, and ask if something was wrong. I would murmur back that no, everything was perfect.
And it was. It was wonderful.
Memories only drag us down, choke us with bittersweet flashbacks and voices. The past may shape and form who we are and what we do, but only the present can determine our courses of action. I will forget my Yami, and in doing so I will forget myself. With every tear I shed, another memory will splash onto the ground and seep into the bottomless cracks of the floor. This is my vow, my resolution.