'K, I'm back finally, after a fairly long hiatus. I had to reformat my computer, again, and couldn't get the Internet working for a long time. That's why I haven't been around.

All right, I have to warn you all, this chapter is more character-orientated than anything else. Barely even a sniff of Duel Monsters in this chapter. It's just pure Bakura, both Ryou and Yami. I'm not entirely sure, but this could also have traces of angst, especially in Yami Bakura's scenes. In addition, it has flashbacks of Ryou's life, which could be considered depressing. Don't say I didn't warn you. 

Disclaimer: Don't own YGO

***Yu-Gi-Oh! Tournament of the Millennium! ***

Chapter 10: Epiphany - A Change of Heart

Ryou walked slowly through the crowed streets of Sydney, pausing every now and then to glance into a store window. He had asked a few people whether they had wanted to duel, but all had declined. As he made to go into a small arcade, he heard a shout.

"Mum, mum look, it's Bakura, Reyo Bakura! Look mum!"

He turned to see a seven-year-old boy dragging his mother towards him. He watched in bemused interest as the child bounded towards him. He was almost knocked over as the boy leapt forward and looked up at him adoringly.

"Wow, it is you! You're so cool. All evil and...grr!" The child pulled a face that looked like he was eating a wasp. His bared teeth snapped shut. "Can I have your autograph? Can I, please, please, please?"

Ryou pulled his spare cards out and crouched down to look the child in the eye.

"You're a fan, huh? What's your name?" asked Ryou gently.

"Todd," replied the boy promptly. "And my favourite card of yours is the Dark Necrofear, cause it floats around and it's all creepy like a ghost, but it's not, cause it's got this puppet thing, and ghosts can't hold puppets, 'cause they're not real, they're this crazy plasma stuff and you have a card like that and, can I have your autograph?" The boy stopped and panted, out of breath.

"Why not? Let's see, how about my... Dark Necrofear?" he replied as he pulled the card out of the holder. It would be good to get rid of it, due to its bad memories, and the blood was gone. Mostly.

"Yeah! That'd be so cool!" Todd exclaimed as he jumped up and down.

Ryou pulled out a pen and signed his name on the card with a florish. He was about to hand it to Todd when Todd's mother grabbed her son's hand.

"I forbid you to take anything from that boy. He's a despicable, Satanic, blood-drinking fiend!" cried the mother shrilly. Several people turned to look at them, and Ryou covered his face with his jacket. Todd started to shout and bawl as his mother dragged him around a corner. Ryou sighed, partly relieved, partly disappointed.

Ryou decided to take a break and decided he would begin searching for a nice place for his luncheon. He stopped at a quaint little cafe and looked around.

It was isolated from the surrounding stores and there was a verandah where Ryou could sit in the sun. Plus the menu appealed to him.

"Real English meals. Ask us about our breakfast, elevensies, second breakfast, brunch, morning tea, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner and supper specials." Ryou read the sign aloud and grinned. It sounded just like his kind of place!

He walked inside and looked around. The cafe had lovely old polished oak tables, a raging fireplace and a real beauty of an antique cricket set in a showcase. As Ryou walked around, he was struck by a faint sense of nostalgia as long-forgotten memories of his original homeland rose to the surface of his mind.

Hurrying over to the counter, Ryou looked at the menu. Steak and kidney pies, liver, real fish and chip sandwiches, Earl Grey tea, crumpets, scones, brandy snaps and a whole assortment of other delicious foods and drinks seemed to be available to him. He pulled out his wallet. Glancing inside, he realized he didn't have any Australian money.

Then he smiled as he saw a sign that said, "We accept all European currency."

A middle-aged woman, whose graying brown hair was tied in a bun, beamed at him from behind the cash register.

"What'll it be, love?"

Ryou licked his lips. It all sounded so good.

"Umm, I'll have a cup of Earl Grey, a plate of crumpets and jam and some scones and cream, if it's not too much of a hassle."

The woman snorted derisively.

"'Course it's not dear. My, you do have an accent. Can't quite place it. Where are you from?" she started to chat idly.

"Umm, Japan, but England originally. That's why I have an unusual accent."

"Oh right, lovely. Wonderful to know we have some wonderful child ex-patriots in such cultural places." She stopped to peer at the visor, which covered Ryou's left eye. "My, what a strange device that is. Is it alright if I ask what it is?"

Ryou chuckled slightly.

"It's a translator. All Duelists in the World Championship that's taking place here are provided with one, so we can Duel people who speak other languages."

The woman looked mildly interested as she busied herself with the tea.

"Oh, you're a duelist. My nephew loves that game, and some of you Japanese fellows are quite the players, from what I've heard." Ryou blushed at that comment.

"Thank you. Yes, many of the duelists in this competition are Japanese. I suppose because it originated there."

"Oh, yes, most likely. Is that fellow Yungi, or Yupi, or whoever, still champion?"

Ryou laughed at that and replied warmly.

"You mean Yugi Moto. Yes, he's still World Champion. A very nice guy."

"Oh, you know him?" The woman paused to think for a moment. "Are you that Joey Wheeler chap?"

Ryou's cheeks turned slightly crimson. To be compared to Joey? Oh, that was amusing, if a little degrading.

"No, no I'm not. Why?"

The woman sighed.

"Pity. My nephew thinks he's great. Only fellow he likes more is that horrid Ryou Bakura fellow. Him and his demons and witchcraft. Such a bad influence on the young ones."

Now Ryou really started to blush. The woman noticed this and peered at him quizzically.

"Hold on. You're not him are you? Wait, no, he's older than you."

Ryou decided to go with that. He didn't like to lie, but the woman seemed so nice, and a partial lie was better than an outright one. As he started to talk, he blushed even more.

"No, I'm not him. He's my older brother. I prefer more tame themes for my decks."

The woman clapped her hands to her cheeks in surprise and embarrassment.

"Oh my Good Lord, I'm so sorry. I haven't insulted you, have I? I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that, well, you know, I just feel it's wrong to be using such cards when young children are going to look up to you."

Ryou turned away from her slightly and grabbed his tray of food. As he turned away, he paused and pulled a card from his pocket. He dropped it onto the counter, along with the correct change for his meal. It was a signed card; his Dark Necrofear that was to be for Todd, whose mother had also disapproved of his Yami's past deck themes. On it, in looped writing were the words, Ryou Bakura.

Ryou smiled slightly as he walked towards his table. As he headed towards it, he called out to her.

"For your nephew. Tell him it's wonderful to know he's a fan."

***

Ryou sighed in contentment as he swallowed the last of his tea. His luncheon had been absolutely superb, and the settings were wonderful. He was partially covered by the shade of an umbrella, but the sun was shining on his face and he felt content, peaceful and sleepy.

He decided to catch up on some sleep. He was feeling most terribly sleepy from the jetlag of flying halfway across the world. After all, he had 2 pieces required to reach the next round already. He'd be able to get the other three sometime later.

As his mind began to drift in and out of light sleep, he partially overheard 2 teens chatting at the table next to him.

"So, with the power of your White Magic User Ulysses and my Magical Beast Warrior Jono, we can roll to injure the demon Zork."

"Yeah, but we've gotta roll a critical to even scratch him!"

"No way! A critical? That means we have to roll a 95, 96, 97, 98, 99 or 100 to hurt him? That's impossible!"

Ryou's mind swam as he heard this.

Monster World! It has to be! Watch out for Yami, he'll destroy your souls!

***

Yami Bakura stared down at Ryou. Ryou was moaning softly as he slept, squirming slightly in his cafe chair. He'd just woken up and realized that Ryou was asleep. Had he felt like it, he might well have tried to gain control of Ryou's body, but, for some unknown reason, even to himself, he didn't feel like it. He decided instead to jump into Ryou's soul room and have a peek at what his vessel was dreaming about.

His spiritual form flickered and vanished from beside Ryou as he traveled into Ryou's soul.

***

Yami Bakura glanced around. He seemed to be standing in a long, cobbled stone hallway. It looked just like a castle Ryou's father had taken him to when he was twelve. That had been one week before the trip to Egypt, where he had found the Millennium Ring and taken it back as a gift to his son. That had been when he had awakened.

Another twinge of that strange feeling flared inside of Yami Bakura. He dismissed it quickly, but still, he couldn't help feeling a little unsettled by it. He stalked down the hallway, glancing around at all the tools of pain and torture bolted to the walls. For there was a lot there.

Thumbscrews, iron maidens, racks, rusty nails, iron crucifixes with enormous bolts to attach the victim's hands and feet to the cross. Yami Bakura took note of all these and continued walking. Then it struck him; there had never been any torture equipment in the halls of the castle Ryou had visited.

Yami Bakura walked up to a piece of equipment and laid his palms on it. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath as he began to concentrate. All items in a soul room had an essence, which could be used to see where exactly in the mind they originated. As he concentrated, the hallway began to warp and bend around him, until it was just a vague purple mist. Yami Bakura opened his eyes slowly, wanting to see what would cause Ryou to conjure up such images of misery.

Just ahead of him, Yami Bakura could see the misty form of Ryou, only partly solid, as he was just a memory. He was sobbing loudly, his head buried in his hands. He seemed to be sitting next to some kind of bed. Yami Bakura approached cautiously. As he walked closer, details became more readily apparent. The bed was a hospital bed, and next to it was a heart monitor. Yami Bakura noticed, with some apprehension, that it was emitting a continual high-pitched sound. Whoever had been connected to it, their heart had stopped.

Yami Bakura walked up to the side of the bed and glanced down. What he saw was a pitiful sight. A young girl lie on the sheets, deathly pale, thin to the point of emancipation, her hair no more than a few wisps that hung on her scalp. Most of it had fallen out. Yami Bakura wasn't sure, but it looked to him like she'd had terminal cancer. He could see her frame outlined beneath her hospital nightgown. Her chest was so thin that each rib was clearly defined and her stomach seemed little more than a crater between her waist and her chest.

Yami Bakura looked away from her, preferring to gaze upon Ryou himself. Ryou looked a mess. He couldn't have been more than twelve at the time, and his body was wracked with sobs. Yami Bakura decided to leave this memory alone. Obviously a bad moment in Ryou's life.

Letting go of the torture tool, Yami Bakura blinked as the hallway snapped back into focus. He stepped over to the next one and placed his hands on it. Then he hesitated. The last memory had been... unsettling, to say the least. But now his curiousity had flared inside of him. He had to see. He grabbed the next item and entered Ryou's memory.

Ryou was crouched in the hallway of his house, just near the staircase. He was peering intently down at the front door. Here Ryou appeared to be about twelve. Yami Bakura walked up to Ryou, totally unseen, not even present to Ryou. He stared down at the door. Ryou's father was there, talking to a policeman. The police officer placed his hand on Ryou's father's shoulder as he said something gently. Ryou's father began to shudder slightly and his voice became strained. After some more conversation between the officer and Ryou's father, the officer departed. As his father closed the door, Ryou ran down the steps, distressed.

"Dad? Dad, what happened? Where's mum!?" cried Ryou urgently as his father turned to him, his eyes full of sadness. Yami Bakura watched as Ryou stared into his father's eyes. Realization flashed across Ryou's face, ugly and grotesque, then he fell to his knees, crying. Ryou's father walked slowly up to him and hugged Ryou, rocking him slowly. Yami Bakura faded out of existence.

Yami Bakura grabbed the next item, fully engrossed now. Every time he saw one of these memories, he felt that strange feeling, stronger and stronger, and was fast becoming addicted to it.

The next memory threw Yami Bakura off. As he looked around, he didn't think it looked so bad. Ryou was now about fourteen, and was sitting in his room, writing a letter. Yami Bakura decided to go and see whom it was to.

He leaned over Ryou's shoulder and read the first line. His eyes narrowed slightly as an icy cold crept through him. The first line was Dear Amane, nothing special. Except for the fact that Amane was Ryou's sister, dead for four years before this had happened. Yami Bakura continued reading.

Dear Amane,

How are you? I hope summer camp is treating you well. Thanks for the last letter.

Yami Bakura stopped reading and looked on the desk. There was another letter there, addressed to Ryou, from his sister Amane. Dark shadows curled around Yami Bakura as he took in what he was seeing. A letter from Amane, to Ryou, written in Ryou's handwriting. Yami Bakura went to the other side of the desk, crouched down and looked in Ryou's eyes. They were full of deep sadness, and, Yami Bakura thought, a hint of madness too.

Unable to help himself, Yami Bakura continued to read Ryou's letter.

Dear Amane,

How are you? I hope summer camp is treating you well. Thanks for the last letter. I hope you've managed to get a transfer to a cabin with better roommates.

As for me, I've been working on my Japanese essay for school for the past week. We have to write about one family member and I managed to write 10 pages about you, since you're the best sister anyone could have. But don't tell anyone I said that.

My new school is treating me well, no bullies yet, which is more than I can say for the past two schools we went to. The teachers are really nice, but don't seem to want to talk about you very much. When I told the class about you during my introduction everyone was really quiet and looked at me in this weird way. I hope someone hasn't been spreading those silly rumors that you're dead. Can you believe it? I mean, just because you've been gone a while doesn't mean you're dead.

I managed to keep Dad from changing your room again. I'm going to keep it exactly the same as when you left for when you come home. I'll be waiting.

Love, Ryou

P.S. I found this great new game to play. It's wonderful. It's called Monster World and it's a Table Top Role Playing Game (TTRGP). You'd probably say it was silly, but I think you'll like it. I'll teach you how to play when you get back.

***

Yami Bakura grabbed another tool of misery and headed in. He promised himself that this would be the last one. He wanted to get out of Ryou's soul room before Ryou awoke.

Ryou was standing in a deserted alleyway, with rain pouring down around him. He was soaked to the bone. He seemed only partially awake.

"Huh? Wh-where am I? What am I doing here?"

Ryou turned to hurry out of the alleyway and tripped over something. Him hauled himself up and looked down at what it was he'd fallen over. Then he started to scream. It was a dead body.

Yami Bakura was thrown out of the memory so forcefully that he fell backwards onto the cold stone floor. He sputtered a little as he got up. He was shocked. Truly shocked.

That had been the first time he'd emerged from the ring. He had killed a bully who'd been picking on Ryou and then gone back to the Ring. He had no idea he'd so greatly affected Ryou then. The waves of distress and shock that had thrown him out of the memory had been immense. He glanced up the hallway. There were probably about another hundred or so torture devices left. If they went in chronological order, as Yami Bakura supposed they were, then it was most likely all the remaining memories were something to do with him. He went to the next and began to check.

***

Yami Bakura sat in a corner of the hallway, stunned at what he'd seen over the past 2 hours. Almost every one of the memories showcased here had something to do with him. The way he had acted. It was startling how much he had changed Ryou's sense of reality, self-worth and perception. He was amazed that he'd affected Ryou so much and even more amazed that the knowledge that he had affected Ryou was affecting him. But then, he supposed he shouldn't have been that surprised. After all, the only way he'd been able to escape that god-awful realm of darkness was to seal his darkness into the Ring itself. He'd known there was a chance his negative energy could become depleted from his escape, but he never thought it would happen. 

Yami Bakura yawned. The memory hopping had really drained him. Time for a bit of a kip in the ol' Millennium Ring. Yami Bakura stretched, yawned again and faded out of sight.

He re-materialized in his soul-room. He strode over to his bed, trailing his palm along the rough wooden wall as he did so. He slumped onto the bed and grabbed a cracked, stained mug from the broken bedside table. His soul-room was an exact recreation of his living arrangement back in his home village of Kuruelna. It was little more than a hovel, but Bakura felt comfortable there. There were only two differences between his soul-room and the real thing. The first was the boarded-up window. The window let only tiny shafts of light through, creating swirling dust motes.

Bakura had tried to take the boards out many times, but never could. Since he'd retrieved his memories of his Ancient Egyptian life, he'd been able to understand why. If he took them out, he would see the village burning around him, the other members of this community of thieves being boiled as sacrifices for the ritual transmutation of gold into the mystical metal from which the Millennium Items were molded. He didn't want to go through that again.

The second difference was the collection of stone tablets in the corner of the room. Some were small, with obscure legends and dark secrets, while others were huge slabs. He even had a mental version of the tablet depicting the Pharaoh's duel with Priest Set, with the gods watching over them. The one from his host's father's museum.

But the pride of the collection was a tablet in the shape of a sarcoughogus lid. It had spaces for all seven of the Millennium Items. It was the tablet of the Pharaoh's father, the crafter of the items and the unknowing releaser of the dark force known as Zork Necrophades. The dark force which Bakura strived to control.

But now he was different. Ever since he'd escaped the Dark Realm his spiritual self was changing, ever so slowly at first, now rapidly transforming. All his darkness was draining away. Bakura lay back on his bed, wondering what would become of him if he were to let go dark side. As he wondered he drifted off to sleep and his mind wandered back to the Darkness.

***

"Prentice Baka! Hand me the celestial notes of the fourth conjunction."

A wizened, yet sneaky-looking, old man grumbled under his breath about bigoted youngsters. Bakura grit his teeth. He was really getting frustrated with the old man, but he still needed the old fellow. But soon he could be rid of him.

Bakura stepped over a pentagram painted in blood, since it was still wet and discrepancies in the portal could be disastrous. He glanced around. The place was entirely black, lit only by the old man's glowing orb. As he walked along, he kicked the man whose blood had been spilt. It grunted and protested heartily.

"Oi! Just 'cause I'm dismembered doesn't mean you have the right to kick me!"

Bakura snarled at him.

"Oh shut the hell up. I know you're immortal here, but we all are, so there's no point trying to impress me!"

He then handed the book to the old warlock.

"Yes master. Here you go master. Would you desire anything else, master?" replied Bakura sarcastically.

The old man peered up from below scruffy eyebrows.

"Keep that up and I may not let you leave, young prentice."

Bakura laughed gruffly. He didn't believe him.

"I highly doubt it. Without me you cannot leave."

The old man snorted. He shuffled back to his seat before replying.

"I've been here for millennia. You think another couple will really matter to me?"

Bakura froze at that. The old man had a point. Maybe he shouldn't push his master's limits. The old man chuckled and continued talking.

"Now, just you remember, to escape you have to suppress the evil within you. Since this is a place where only evil can enter and good may leave, that is why no one person has ever escaped before." He paused and turned to a certain page in the book before continuing. "But you are different. You have learned in six months what has taken me thousands of years to discover. And you wonder why the others hate you so." Bakura winced. Many people here were beyond human and he'd taken quite a beating upon arrival, being the first to arrive in well over a thousand years.

"But you are lucky also. Having learned so fast, and possessing a magical item in the physical realm, you will simply be able to transfer your dark energy to that item. Now let's go over this again. In five minutes..." he trailed off and looked expectantly at Bakura.

"In five minutes time the polarities of this dimension will swap over, changing the entrance and exit requirements. I'll have roughly 3 seconds to transfer as much of my dark energy to the ring as possible."

The old man nodded in agreement and continued.

"Exactly. Then I shall do my stuff and stick a trigger in your mind. It'll only go off...?"

Bakura sighed.

"When my real name is uttered aloud. I know, I know. Let's just get ready."

He walked over to the pentagram and lay down in the middle, a limb in each different point, and his head in the fifth. The old man handed him a small marble-like object.

"Here is my essence. You should be able to get this out into the physical realm and implant someone with it. Then I shall be free of this wretched place as well."

Bakura noticed the blackness was beginning to lighten.

"Get out of her, old man. It's about to start."

The warlock scurried away just as the pentagram began to glow. Bakura waited for the moment of reversal. Three...two...one...there!

He forced as much dark energy out of himself as he could. It burst upwards in a solid beam, straight up into a whirling portal that had opened. Almost as quickly as it opened, it snapped shut again, leaving Bakura stranded with what was left of his dark energy. Hoping it was enough, Bakura willed himself to leave.

His body took on a floating sensation as he drifted up towards a piercing light. He was just about to go through it when an etheric being appeared before him. The real Gate Guardian. He looked like he was made out of pure light.

"You dare to attempt to leave when you are impure?" roared the being. It hefted a silvery blade and swung it mightily.

"Yes I do. And if you don't mind, I would like to leave. Surely I am near pure?"

The being considered him for a moment.

"True. But pure to you is not as to me." He drew the blade up in the air when Bakura threw the evil essence of the warlock at him. It shattered on the blade and dripped over the being. Bakura heard whispery shouts of agony and felt satisfied when he saw a smoky image of the old warlock evaporating from coming into contact with pure goodness. But it did the trick. The guardian was weakened enough, and Bakura's body was now pure enough, to allow Bakura to pass through the guardian and into the portal. He was going home!

***

Bakura awoke with a start. He stared wildly around his hovel, sweating heavily. He had dreamt that he was throwing Ryou over a cliff, over and over again. Standing up, Bakura made his decision. It was time for reconciliation.

He strode into Ryou's soul-room hallway and hammered loudly on the oak door, which connected to the main room.

Ryou opened the door drowsily and was quite shocked when his Yami came barging through.

Yami Bakura did a sharp about face so he was facing Ryou, took a deep breath and rushed out, "Ryou, I want to apologies for the way I've treated you up until now, and want to ask for your forgiveness." He spun around, so his back was to Ryou and became very interested in a model boat on a table.

"Wha-What? You, what? I'm afraid I don't quite understand you," muttered Ryou quietly. He had heard, but he wanted to make sure.

"I want to apologies for the way I've treated you and want to ask if we can share your body harmoniously," Bakura growled quietly. "Don't make me say it again."

"Well, quite frankly, I'm at a loss for words, Yami. I, I really don't know. I'm willing to accept your apology, but..." Ryou bit his lip apprehensively.

"But what?!"

"I can't trust you enough to have control of my body, even for short periods of time."

 

"What the blazes do you mean? Why can't I have my fair share of time in control of your body?"

"Probably because you tend to main or steal any time you do get control of my body." Ryou's mental form looked slightly amused, even if he was strained. He looked around his room. It was a small, brick affair, reminiscent of his early English home.

There was a fire burning merrily in a nearby fire place and shelves around the wall full of various objects, from Monster World avatars and boards to artifacts from various locations around the world, mental selves of gifts received by Ryou from his father's travels. On a coffee table beside Ryou a photo frame held a picture of a smiling woman and her daughter, Ryou's mother and sister, both dead.

Yami Bakura, on the other hand, looked anything but amused. His face was red with rage and his fists were tightly clenched.

At least he isn't shouting yet, Ryou thought to himself. A few moments passed, in which time Yami Bakura decided to change his tact.

"Please, Ryou? I've changed my ways, honestly, I have. It required most of my dark spirit to escape that god-forsaken realm, since only good spirits may pass from that realm back to others. Ask Shadi. He'll tell you. And that'll be proof that I've changed."

Yami Bakura looked pleadingly at his counterpart, who seemed to be mulling it over. Ryou was tempted to believe him. After all, Shadi had mentioned that fact to him before. It had been to try to reassure Ryou that his yami wouldn't return.

Ryou paced the room, finally stopping at a shelf. He picked up a model tower, an avatar of the castle of Dark Master Zork in Monster World. He threw it to Yami Bakura, who caught it deftly. Yami Bakura, upon realizing what it was, averted his eyes in shame.

"You remember. That's the model you stabbed my hand into so I couldn't help Yugi and the others while they were avatars." He glanced down at his hand. It still bore a small, twisted scar. He continued walking and tossed a card over to Yami Bakura.

Yami Bakura sighed. He knew what that would be. The Change of Heart card he had sealed Ryou's soul into at the Duelist Kingdom tournament.

"About that. Sorry. I was different then." Yami Bakura seemed slightly unsure of what to say.

Ryou looked hurt.

"I'm not saying you are still the same. I just want you to remember what you've put me through."

Ryou sighed. He was naturally a forgiving person, and he'd always longed for a permanent friend. If his Yami had changed it would be nice to have someone to talk to. He hesitated.

"I'm sorry, I can't. It's too soon." Ryou's body vanished before his yami's very eyes. Yami Bakura slumped into a leather armchair.

He fiddled guiltily with the model tower he still held. As he stared at it, he noticed that the tower's spire was slightly rusted and bloodstained. This caused him to sigh with regret. Over the past day or so all his negative feelings, his rage, his hatred, everything that made him what he had previously been, was slowly disappearing. He had known this would happen, but now he knew that he had never really believed it would happen. If he had, he would never have gone through with it.

As Ryou's real body roused and pulled itself out of the cafe chair, Bakura couldn't help but think to himself, "I suppose I might have deserved that."

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