Yami's koi: looks at request for more blood. Eyebrow raises in question but tries to comply, even though that part turns out crappy sorry for this late update. I'm depressed, to put it shortly. And I can't go to anyone about it... and no one understands. Y'all know what I'm getting at, right?

Bakura: GIRLILIFTEDHISSHIRT! I WANT TO LIFT RYOU'S SHIRT!

Yami's koi: pats shoulder don't worry Bakura. We ALL know how you feel. Or some random dudes do. Now read my new chapter so I can get yelled at again. --

I've finally made it.

The building itself is beginning to look dirty; the bright colours on it seem to have long since faded, only to leave a few patches of paint, and several large windows have evidently been used for target practice. This orphanage... Seto's old orphanage... well, I think admittedly, shaking my head, at least I didn't imagine it to be as it was. Once a joyous, radiant place, and now... this. I'm finally beginning to understand that barely anything in this world is the equal to what I am used to.

I turn, my eyes wide, as I hear another womanly scream, only to be stifled hastily. The muffled cry seems to be very near, and the threatening darkness doesn't seem to be improving my weakening assertiveness. Or whatever assertiveness I may have had.

So long as I don't have to kill anyone, or venture out into this horrifying living hell, I deem I'll be okay.

Unless, of course, the Gods' tasks are too taxing and dangerous for me to survive them. Which, of course, they most probably will be.

Come to think of it, I don't know what genre of missions these will be like, or their difficulty status. For example, what am I supposed to do, prevent the Apocalypse? Not that these facts would do me many favours, that's just too obvious. For all I would do, once this information was mine, would be to panic. And at times like those, I freak out big.

Another scream is released from the throat of a woman. From the pitch, I am guessing she is roughly in her early twenties, or seventeen, like me. I shiver and hurry towards the door, observing the creaking signpost nearby which states there are vacancies here. At that I am miffed. Its almost as if the people who would stay here are only temporary, or too few in their coming.

I knock loudly. A dim red covers my view for a moment, and I cry out.

Oh, and another thing Ryou. Give only your real name to those who you knew in your supposedly real time.

I whirl round, seeking out Ra's voice, before the red veil is lifted and I hear the door creak open. And yet again I am faced with a weapon, only this time it's a crossbow. The reason for these in an orphanage is more understandable. They wouldn't want to have to tend to injured children. I blink, and raise my hands. My mind works furiously to conspire a fairly decent explanation for my coming.

"Please let me stay here. My mother has just been killed in a shooting and I have no other relatives left to go to!" I plead, forcing my voice to sound cracked and tearful.

Slowly they lower their weapons and the door fully opens. I stare up at the slender woman, whose dark hair and white Egyptian clothes look vaguely familiar. I cast my mind back. Battle City... She was a competitor at Battle City!

My mind screams to me that this is Isis Ishtar, once wielder of the Millennium Necklace, which gives prophecies to the beholder.

But she looks so tired, and aggressive... she was never like this. Though I guess in this time everyone can appear to be as they were, when really they just act like monsters. Take Yugi for example. He would never have allowed me to be kicked out before, and for that reason my heart aches. I never wanted him to become like me... or at least something so similar.

Isis' beautifully dark head slants slightly as she considers me, laying down the crossbow on the floor beside her. And now she has resumed her staring. Her dark, serious eyes gaze into mine, and they almost burn, for I cannot break the look. Slender, tanned hands come to rest upon her waist.

"Have I seen you somewhere before? You look familiar."

At that my heart again weeps and I feel a surge of suffering welling up inside of me. Even through all of this torment and ruin, she can still remember me.

Instead I stare at her, pretending to look her over again and again, before I decide to finally shake my head, keeping my voice broken.

"Can't say that I have, Miss."

Isis smiles very slightly at the courteous word, then jumps and retrieves her crossbow when another scream sounds, this time even louder. Her eyebrows narrow, and I find it hard to believe that she could ever look so violent. Or angry.

She reminds me much of the Jou I have seen tonight, when he killed that beggar. So emotionless, so completely driven by pain and hatred... well, whatever made him do that, it must be deep. But it's probably just the society. Not much of this place it actually half-decent, so I doubt Isis will be.

"I've heard that same woman scream four times in about half an hour, and its doubtless she's being either attacked or raped."

She shoots a dark glance down at me, and shakes her head.

"Doubtless it is both if she has screamed more than thrice." Her eyes wander more so, and she gestures for me to come in. I do so and stare in wonder at the amount of pictures she has of Malik. There is a wooden desk at the front, and she strides up to it, adjusting another image of her brother, though this time, his yami is with him.

Reaching into a drawer behind this desk, Isis produces a dark book. It seems to have many pages, most of which are blank. She flicks to a particular page, entitled 'New Intake,' and picks up a pen.

"So, what's your name?"

I must think very quickly to answer this. As if in answer, the Gods remind me this:

Use only a false name for those who you have not yet seen in your life. For her, you must call yourself Ryou legally.

"My name is Ryou Bakura, Miss," I say slowly, though she still stares at me. I lean closer, looking around in case anyone hears me.

"But I'm not too fond of it myself. It was my mother's favourite name for a male before she – she..."

She smiles somewhat faintly at me and writes this down. As if just noticing it for the first time, she gestures to my bleeding cuts, eyeing the one on my face for a longer length of time than the others.

"We'd better get those washed. May Ra and any other God curse me if I'm having you looked after with an infection."

Bakura

Still the distinct feeling of recognition and darkness gnaws at me. I slowly turn the page of another completely useless article. It seems that although two of the Pharaoh's books include indexes and contents, the authors did not seem to understand the significant difference in speed those two things would create to the beholder.

Occasionally we catch something worth mention, and it is read out aloud, and I scribble notes down, sometimes the words, the book, the page number... anything relevant to God related marks.

Currently I am reading thus:

'Though many Gods there are; only a few of them have not the head of an animal, or any anatomy of their creations. Long before they created Ra's cattle, their dwelling was not in the heavens, and yet nothing akin to our world. This place had no darkness within it; the abode was made solely from a blinding light. It is said that this light was so pure and flawless in its intensity, that gradually the faces and anything so humanly were burned away long before the creation of Earth, and its inhabitants. For they once assumed the looks of humans, and that was from whence our features originate. Now, if the Gods still maintain our faces, their eyes are purified and orb-like, the colours changing with their moods, or remaining simply that way to represent their particular job.

Of course, the Pharaoh's, their wives and kin all go to the sacred Land of the Gods when they die. Many believed that to enter the Spirit World, and to ease their passing in the Hall of Two Truths, they would have to keep each one of those many Gods within their favour...'

I sigh and begin to read the other page. This book is merely repeating what others have written, or what I haven't been told many times before. And, to further boost my weariness and frustration, the formality of the writing is too much.

I stand from my chair and signal to the Pharaoh and his light. They glance

up from their reading.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink? All this reading is becoming too tedious, especially because it says what we already know."

Yami nods, and requests for two sodas. I raise my eyebrows slightly and exit. I can almost sense their kiss, the Pharaoh being possessive and comforting by embracing Yugi tightly first, then drawing their lips together slowly, eventually deepening the kiss. His hand will be rising just about now to stroke his hair, the other one to encircle Yugi's waist. A quick glance in there affirms my suspicions.

Ah, if Ryou were here, I wouldn't need to give them a reason for me to leave.

Ryou

I wince slightly as water beats steadily down onto my back, in my hair and thoroughly into my gashes. Isis has instructed me carefully to first clean the wounds, then to shower. Meekly I obliged, purely because, out of all the people I have so far met, she is the one who is at least half-friendly. I deem as I rid my hair of shampoo, that if she alone could help me, then I would be gladdened only further.

I reach up and turn the water off, shaking my head to clear those thoughts. I hurriedly dry myself, rinse my cuts again in case any shampoo managed to enter them, and seek her out downstairs.

At length I find her in the kitchens, where she is waiting for me.

"I have business in our homeland, Ryou. I've just packed, and I'm getting a lift from a friend quite shortly." A horn blares from outside, and she turns sharply. She crouches down, and peers through a crack in the curtains cautiously.

Isis then sighs in relief, and retrieves her fallen bags, along with her crossbow. Again she looks me over, and wishes me well. I shake her hand, and reply to the comment in kind.

Now that she's gone – or, to be more precise, the moment she has gone – Ra and his companion converse with me again.

The time is nearing for when you shall be given a task. However, we won't give the exact mission details, for you must answer this riddle.

Osiris then is pictured in my mind, proud and tall, and begins to chant lightly:

He is much like you and yet in many ways not, he dwelt in a time of great darkness, in more than one way at that; many hardships they have endured, and yet many more than one. He depends on respect, demands attention, though if done in the right way, you will be repaid and unscathed.

I blink at that. "Wait, how do you expect me to remember all that?"

Osiris would have rolled his eyes, and for one moment, I see him how he once was. His emerald, mortal eyes gleaming with happiness, his body heavily tanned and lean with firm, large muscles. A kilt wrapped around his waist, a hat made purely out of silk, with blue ribbons curling up the side attractively to the human eye, agreeing perfectly with his eyes...

And then it is gone. He stares coldly back at me, almost as if he is ashamed of what he once was.

Then it shall be burned into either your memory or hand, dear Ryou. Both of which are extremely painful... or, so I hear from the screams of my victims. Unless of course you can remember now.

It is not in my will to play arrogant bastards with the Gods, and yet it seems so tempting to toy with them. Though I know in reality – or whatever I can call this – it would never happen. I'm too weary to bother with all that shitty 'place hand under numbingly cold water for ten minutes until burning pain resides.'

"I remember," I mumble grudgingly, "I bid you farewell from my mind."

With that, he has gone.

The door behind me creaks open, and involuntarily I glance at it... and stare.

A fairly tall, slender figure stands before me. Currently he wears a dark purple tank top, completed with extremely tight leather pants. In his hand he carries a case, and I smile at him before I realise he wouldn't know me.

"Greetings," He says finally, regarding me with a deep and burning curiosity, "My name's Malik, and that dick head – who is, unfortunately, my yami - out there is Marik. I'm Isis' brother."

I smile slightly. "My name's Ryou, and nice to meet you Malik. Um..."

My eyes shift towards Marik, now that he's entered, and by the Eye of Horus, he's changed. A long, pale scar runs from the bottom of his cheek up to the formation of his nose, and his look is so... deathly. Sure, he's still tanned, but his eyes are the mere beginning of his features. Instead of them being a nice lavender colour, it seems they too have morphed. Now they're darker, and look menacingly adjacent to that of a killer. And since I have the worst luck in the world at the moment, he's pissed off.

But instead of attacking me, he does something which makes me want to retch. He turns and pulls his arm back, crashing his fist into Malik's cheek. The recipient falls and winces, completely defenceless against his yami. He cradles his cheek, staring tremulously up at the towering threat.

"Don't ever call me a dick head, you stupid slut!" Marik hisses, shaking Malik's shoulders until he breaks and strikes him back, in his stomach. The yami is infuriated further now, which was obviously his intention. As he swings his arm back, I leap forwards and use whatever strength I have to haul him away and off of Malik.

Malik rises shakily, and stares at his darkness tearfully. The side of his head – or, from what I can tell – looks fairly uninjured, but I see a trickle of blood escape from underneath his fingers. Must have been from the fall. But still Marik's fault nonetheless.

"GO TO HELL YOU BASTARD! I HATE YOU!" He screams tearfully, and dashes for the stairs.

Only when I hear the locking of the door do I release Marik. I circle him until we stand, face to face. He regards me warily, though almost admiration can be detected. Apparently it takes a lot of strength to take down Marik Ishtar. He stares back solidly, smirking proudly.

That is, until I use my entire strength to deliver a heavy blow to his cheek. He grabs the throbbing side of his face reflexively and glares at me, his eyes burning with the question why.

And my eyes only deliver the answer.

"You bastard. Ya know what, Malik's right! You are a dick head, and its not because you fight, its because who you just fought with! How can you even dream of touching your own hikari, you arsehole?!" I yell, my pain shining through.

"What the hell are you on?" He retorts, rubbing his face angrily, "YOU'RE THE BASTARD HERE! YOU HURT ME AND YOU'LL PAY!"

"OH YEAH, LIKE THAT'S NEVER BEEN USED BEFORE!" I scream back, surprising even myself. My eyes glance to his right, and I take a massive risk here when I do this. I dodge behind him and grab the Millennium Rod from his back pocket. I use it to point at him, and in my fury, I somehow manage to unleash its power to pin him against the wall. He screams in either shock or frustration, but I'm not daunted.

"This is the source of your power, and your life, RIGHT?" I wait for a nod before continuing, "And I could end that life now, RIGHT?"

"YOU WOULDN'T DARE," Marik snorts, "You wouldn't deprive Malik of his yami. It's only me and that bitch he calls sister who he has left."

I scowl at him darkly before releasing the power I have on the Rod. He falls to the hard floor, and lands in a heap. I stand over him, and suddenly come up with something I feel hit a nerve.

"Just so you know, I would rather see Malik suffering, alone and without a yami, than with one who doesn't care less."

And with that, I turn on my heel and stride up the stairs, still carrying the Millennium Rod. I have an idea of how to help Malik.

Bakura

I check the clock. It's seven thirty, and I can hear many things coming from outside. The ice cream truck's annoying tone trilling its way around the neighbourhood, the sound of those mortal children happily laughing and screaming, the sound of water being splashed...

All these sounds I heard when I was with Ryou. It was thanks to him I'm not alarmed by those sounds. Heck, if he hadn't have bought some ice cream for me once, I would have banished that disturbing truck it came from to the Shadow Realm.

I know I've been terrible to him, more so at first. That's why I found my feelings of love for him so unbidden at first. But soon I just found myself mesmerised by the tranquillity of him, every laugh he made I treasured it, and each time I heard those small sounds, I would feel content.

Of course I found many opportunities and ways to make him smile at me, or reward me with a long, content silence that followed soon after. And I would smile back, not wanting to break the gaze until a responsive heat pooled in my lower body.

But he confided in me a lot. Whenever I asked of him why he looked upset, he would say, which is rare in mortals. So that is why I presume he cried alone a lot, and blocked at least his emotions from the link. To cover up the evidence that he was weakening, and falling into the darkness that had consumed me.

Whatever kind of death I had expected him to have, I didn't want it to be like this. And I hope that for every person who wants to suicide, that they take just one moment to review their lives. The happiness, loyalty, love, sadness, terror... all of it. And maybe that way those premature deaths can be reduced. Or, if things are truly that bad... then they live a peaceful and beautiful Afterlife. If life on Earth is so abhorrent that that is the only way in which they can be spared... it is in that instant that I know suicide can be right.

Ryou

As soon as I reach his room, I know that he is waiting for me, or for Marik. I knock lightly on the door to prove that I am not his so-called yami and protector, and he opens the door slightly. He breathes, relieved, and opens it fully, granting me access. And as soon as I am in, he locks the door.

"Malik," I begin, sitting on the bed, "I know that I probably shouldn't have interfered, but I couldn't just stand by and watch him do that to you. So I hit him. Hard."

For a moment he is silent, then resumes nursing his swelling cheek. One quick scan of his eye tells me that it hasn't been hit; though it had been a close call. The blood down his face transfixes me for a moment, its shiny texture glistening slightly in the dim light.

"Malik, I told him that I'd rather see you without a yami, than to see you with one who didn't give a shit." I go on to say calmly, producing the Rod from behind my back, seeing his eyes widen in shock "Whilst holding him down with this.

"It's now that you have a choice. I can destroy the Rod, and he'll be dead and no longer a part of you, therefore your pain and abuse a thing buried in the graveyard of the past. Though, I know how much that hurts, so that's why I'm giving you another choice – you two can talk this over, and find a way so that Marik can release his anger on something else. I don't know why, but for some reason I know that he has good somewhere within him. The choice is yours."

He stares at me, bleary eyed and questioning. His hand lowers and examines the drying blood, which he licks slightly in contemplation. When he speaks, he sounds so sad, though somehow remaining as soft as it once was.

"You have kindness in your heart, even though you've only known me for a short time. I find that hard to believe. And how do you know of the power this Rod contains? And... you said you knew how much it hurts. Does this mean you have a yami too?"

I smile faintly at him, instantly reminded of Isis' description of him in Egypt when they were Tomb Keepers. In the world I knew, of course.

"I know of the power the Millennium Rod has purely because I wield the Millennium Ring. And, of course I have a yami, almost all holders of the Items do. My darkness used to abuse me too, and I'd just take it. Now that I've seen it... I can't allow it to carry on like this. You could even make the biggest regret of your life and suicide."

Malik smiles slightly and winces at the pain caused by the movement of his cheek. "I have scarred myself. And I want to, I really do. I guess I could be willing to forgive him. He is the other half of me, after all. And who can be so malice filled as to not forgive a part of yourself, even if he is in another body?"

I let my smile widen, a certain feeling of accomplishment filling me from the inside. For I had just, most probably, swayed his mind from falling into a suicidal will.

Yami's koi: This is longer than the others are. I'm aware Ryou's anti suicide at the moment, but I have my reasons for that. And I don't want Malik to suffer, but what else could I do?

Bakura: why oh WHY did I have to lift his shirt?

Yami's koi: what a drama queen. Because, Bakura, you had no other choice. It was reflex.

Ryou: this is a message to Chrisoriented: we're all sorry for the crappy excuse for lack of blood in this chap. Hopefully when the jobs get worse things will be messier. Did you like the Jou scene?

Neutral Man: Yami's koi is considering renaming me as Toboggan Man. Her other suggestions are Mr Crumpet, Dumbass or Mr Man. Take your pick or send one to us!

Yami's koi: yes, please do. So... please R&R. Check my other fics in case I update late, which is possible. Sorry in advance, and thank you. BYE DUDES! PLUSHIE OF MALIK WITH ROSE FOR REVIEWERS! THE ROSE IS EDIBLE!