I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or anything affiliated with afore-mentioned manga/anime…if I did, I'd be considerably richer than you, of course. One can dream, I s'pose…
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It was almost like he had lost an arm.
He, the hermit crab, the Pharaoh, the thief. He had lost an arm that wasn't even his to lose.
His heartbeat felt erratic and out of time.
It wasn't fair.
There had been a feeling, a bad feeling, for days about this whole thing. The light had cried out for caution, for reason. Only to be smothered by the power-hungry darkness. He always was a bad loser.
It just wasn't fair. It wasn't right.
The Soul Room was silent as a grave.
He, the darkness, had allowed himself to be consumed. Of course, 5000 years should have given him the wisdom to avoid such things. It hadn't.
Of course it had been a trap. Seto Kaiba should have made him realise that nobody ever gives away willingly. Never. Ever.
The darkness deep inside him pulsed, rejoiced. Whilst somewhere, so far away, the light was damned to a cage.
He, the Pharaoh, the great King of Games, was reduced to a shadow. Half of a greater entity. Something incomplete.
He felt ill.
Nausea bubbled in the pit of his stomach as half of a mind was tormented by itself. Scuffmarks on the dusty earth formed untidy circles, the shape mocking him even in the daylight. He dragged his shoe (Not his shoe, not his body) over them, feeling the nausea replaced by some great, ancient fury.
Because at night it was so much worse. A fragile little body, torn to shreds by dark demons, so old, so evil. Whilst the taller figure in the royal headdress gloated and danced, throwing his head back and roaring as conjured flames devoured the small corpse.
He didn't sleep for a while after that.
Three days actually. And even then it was all still like a nightmare.
His heart beat slowly, erratic, divided. As the fragile soul, that which once shone so bright, was eclipsed. Engulfed. And the darkness roared with dark, cruel laughter.
Oh yes, his had lost so much more than an arm. His heart, his soul, his…being, in itself was incomplete. The price to pay for gambling with someone else's money…in another man's clothes.
He, the cuckoo, the intruder. The one who wore the black hat. His a tainted soul, and all that melodrama. He who would have to make things right again.
Because the world would need a good saviour. Because Tea, Joey and the others would need their friend back.
And because he, the broken, the heart divided, just needed his light back.
His chance at redemption.
The darkness deep within roared with laughter again.
It wasn't fair.
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A/N: Well, that wasn't too bad for a first attempt, was it?
Reviews are nice (Hint, hint), and so is chocolate. I wouldn't mind either…or both…