Strange how things happen; less than half an hour ago it crossed my mind that perhaps Master Himura might, if told, have some insight into how I might go about managing the Millennium entanglement that has become my life and on-going nightmare. And here I am, kneeling on the tatami trembling from the aftermath of what felt like the Spirit of the Ring breaking free from the Sealing that Yami no Yuugi and I cobbled together almost two months past, still in possession of my own mind and body because my Aikido sensei is...is...

"Many years ago it was this one's privilege to study under on of the great onmyoujian," Sensei says quietly, but I can hear the iron in his tone. "That training is not often needed in this age and this one has not the greatest skill or strength, yet this one has not forgotten the look, the sound and feel of the onryou, the vengeful ghost, however muted or restrained. I ask again, Bakura Ryou, if you are able to speak: what is it that - please do not touch the ofuda, Ryou-kun; the ink is still wet and it may smudge, that it might..."

So that's why it itches - when Himura-sensei pressed the heel of his hand against my forehead he was placing a protection charm on me, and of course now that he's told me to leave it alone, it seems to be a nearly unbearable irritation. Carefully I wedge the fingers of both hands under my knees to try to keep from thoughtlessly scratching, and quickly review what little I know about Japanese exorcisms. Most of my occult knowledge is based in the European traditions, thanks to Great Aunt Estelle, and what I may or may not know about Eastern practices comes from reading manga and watching anime - which means its accuracy is questionable. Would Tao Buddhism even work against. ancient Egyptian sorcery? Is it worth trying?

"I... I don't know how to start, Sensei."

The stern set of Himura-sensei's expression softens. "The beginning is usually a good place, Bakura-kun, that it is. How did this happen to you?" When I don't reply right away, he prods gently, "Ryou-kun mentioned earlier a cursed ring from Giza, and his father?"

"It's not his fault!" I protest. "Dad didn't know, he just wanted a souvenir for me, because I had to stay in Japan. I couldn't go with him, because of Grandmother... he just wanted to get me something to... to help me feel like part of the expedition even if I couldn't actually be there."

"Does Bakura-san know about..."

"Gods, no! How could I tell him, Sensei? I barely understand it myself... How could I explain that his present was cursed with an evil spirit on a blood-thirsty quest for revenge and a horribly sick sense of humor, and a...a..."

I stutter to a halt again as I suddenly understand the meaning of my words. Thanks to my post- Battle City conversations with Yuugi and Yami no Yuugi, I'd come to realize that the Spirit of the Ring had been seeking to posses all the Sennen Items, and that he hated the Pharaoh with a passion that had sustained him for thousands of years; but I'd never really considered the seminal cause of that seemingly senseless rage ... oh, gods, if what I'd just experienced, the helplessness and pain, the overwhelming grief and anger had any validity...

"He had cause, Sensei... oh God, he had CAUSE..." I must look as sick as I feel, because Sensei is urging my head down and hastily thrusts a small waste paper bin under my nose.

Some time later, after the regurgitated contents of my stomach have been disposed of, and the now tattered and stained ofuda on my forehead removed and ritualistically burned, I find myself seated again opposite my Aikido teacher, who nods encouragingly.

"Long ago when the pyramids were still young, Egyptian sorcerers played games of skill and great power..." I talk, and Sensei listens without interrupting although I know that he can tell when I gloss over certain details. I tell the truth as I know it, but caution that some of what I have been told may not be accurate, and some secrets are not mine to tell. Kaiba, Yuugi and the others are mentioned in their roles as Duelists or friends, but there really is no way to hide the connection between the Shadow Games of old and the modern Duel Monsters game, especially with how that last two major Tournaments turned out.

"Seven talismans of power there are, then," Sensei muses. "Do all have a possessing Spirit, do you think, Ryou-kun?"

"Mine, and one other that I know of; the others..." I hesitate a moment. "The others may not be 'inhabited' as such, but ... there seems to be an influence that is not necessarily benevolent. Or it may be simply that they have fallen into the possession of unscrupulous individuals." Both Pegasus and Marik Ishtar certainly fell into that category; I'm not so certain of Miss Ishtar. While she may have had an agenda during Battle City, she seemed to be primarily focused on trying to prevent mayhem rather than causing doom and destruction. Still, I recall overhearing some discussion regarding how the Millennium Items can only be used properly by those individuals so destined, and I remember Dad's note saying how he'd felt drawn to that merchant's stall in Giza, that the Ring was meant for me ... and how Yuugi has always said that he felt like he was meant to solve the Puzzle. "Sensei, do you think it might be possible, to exorcise the Spirit from the Ring?"

"Perhaps by a Master, which this one is not", he replies thoughtfully. "Warding charms I can do, Ryou-kun, that I can. Better that you avoid wearing your talisman for now. Why a lead film bag, I am wondering?" During the course of my tale I'd mentioned the Ring's current location and its safeguards.

"Lead blocks radiation, and from everything I've read, magic is generally considered a form of energy," I explain. He nods approvingly.

"And silk to block aetheric influences. Taking precautions, yes." Sensei sighs, then glances at the kitchen clock. "Getting late, it is...Somewhere you need to be, ne?" He gets to his feet and helps me rise as well. "Time to get changed, now. This one will write ofuda that you will use if needed for protection, that I will. And tomorrow or the next day this one will ask people who know, what might be done."

As I jog down the road to the train stop that I need to get to the Arcade, where hopefully Yuugi and the others have not tired of waiting, my pockets full of warding charms and my heart holding hope for the first time in months, I can't help wondering if my luck has finally taken a turn for the better. Even though I carefully avoided mention of what happened Thursday afternoon again, I'm sure that Himura-sensei will not forget. Sensei's ofuda won't be much help with physical bullies, after all; maybe after I get myself back into Obata-sensei's good graces I should start carrying my bokkan around for protection - yeah, that will go over well with everyone. Not.

After the Battle City fiasco, my social worker Ms. Tanaka was convinced that I was suppressing deep-seated aggressive tendencies and in desperate need of a more physical outlet for my negative energies than 'a children's card game' - preferably one with more immediate adult supervision and fewer mysterious trips to the emergency room! Long story short, Tanaka-san was genuinely concerned for me, and I felt guilty over what I suspected to be long-term mind-tampering, courtesy of my Other, so I agreed to give kendo a try. I truly was surprised to discover how much I enjoyed it. There was something very satisfying in the cr-a-ack of bokkan glancing off bokkan that made the (for once) honestly earned bruises well worth the discomfort, and a rough yet disciplined camaraderie that eased the ache of my self-imposed exile from Yuugi-tachi. And as dearly as I care for Yuugi, Honda, Anzu and Jounouchi, its wonderfully refreshing to be part of a circle that knows nothing about the Other Me, the Sennen items and saving the world from ancient Evil on a semi-weekly basis. It was Jun-sempei who started using 'Feather' as my dojo-name, because of my hair, she said, and it fit the club's bird mascot theme.

Should I drop Kendo Club? I've fallen so far behind with my recent absences; and do I really want to face the inevitable awkwardness, seeing as Mokuba-kun is a junior member? Sooner or later, Kaiba will turn up for one reason or another - either to see Mokuba pass his levels, or even just to pick him after practice. But I hate the thought of bailing on my teammates, especially seeing as Kendo Club, like so many of the traditional school clubs, has seen a drop in membership the past year with so many students being more interested in Duel Monsters and Dueling. Kendo Club was fortunate in that they were able to combine the Domino High and the affiliated Junior High school clubs in order to maintain the required member rolls. No, I will just have to brazen it out, I decide. If Kaiba and I cross paths at Kendo and he tries to start trouble, I'm pretty certain that my 'Wing' will back me up...

I hope.

Maybe it because I spent part of the afternoon talking to Himura-sensei about the years in England, but tonight's dreams have a different, albeit no less distubing, tone to them.

I'm hiding under the heavy mahogany table in what used to be my Grandfather's study - not that Grand-dad Pwyll ever used the room as such, because he was definitely an outdoors person; field and forest, not papers and books - but nowadays it's more of a library/parlor... anyway, the important thing is the table. I loved that table, would spend hours under it; not necessarily hiding but running my fingers over the carved animal head totem poles that form the legs of the table and pretending that they were friends trapped by a wicked spell and that if I could break the spell they'd be live animals again, not wood carvings, like the stone animals in the Lion and Witch book that Mum read to me when I had the flu. There were lions and crocodiles and armadillos, and leopards...

But today I'm hiding, a cloth draped over the table like a shroud and I hear voices on the other side: Grandmother, and some of the church crones, and a dark presence I almost recognize but don't want to think about...

"... really a shame about the boy, Lettie dear... I don't know how you can bear it..."

I can almost see Grandmother's disapproving expression as she replies, "It's true what they say. Blood will tell, you know." She's talking about Dad, I just know it; but before I can get angry ...

"... if it had been Amane, we could have salvaged the situation; pressured the family into making restitution of some kind. The younger son, maybe - he's of an age..."

I feel my eyes go wide and I cover my mouth with a hand to keep from betraying myself in shock. Grandmother... somehow she found out! About Kaiba and what happened in the park last Thursday... and all she can think about is how shameful and embarrassing for the family and how to ? - oh! How can she? Marry Amane off to the Kaiba's to save face? - oh, she's thinking younger son: Mokuba? That wouldn't be so awful, Mokuba's a good kid basically...

I want to scream and cry, though, because there it is, what I always suspected but never wanted to admit; that my Grandmother, Leticia Jarvis Pwyll, didn't care one flying figo about ME other than the social embarrassment I could cause for her and that she'd have much preferred my sister to have survived the train accident, and I can't really blame her for THAT because many times I've wished myself that Amane was alive and I was...

"...what to do with a boy like that? I'd be at my wit's end, my girl!" Oh, that's one of the Jarvis uncles - the liar! I've heard him talking before, about shipping me off to one of those prep academies, the kind you read about in the scandal sheets lately with teachers using corporal punishment on students and 'taking liberties' with their charges on overnight field trips. And I stifle a giggle, because if Grandmother is shocked about a little bodily contact between me and a classmate, she'll really freak out if one of those not-so-proper professors gets a hold of me! I should be horrified too, but I'm not because I'm quick and clever and Uncle Jamie taught me how to pick locks and if it comes to that I'll run away and Uncle Jamie will help me get to the coast and hook up with Dad like we did before; or I'm old enough, almost, maybe I could join UNIT until Uncle Jamie gets back from Afghanistan, and...

And it's cold and dark and I remember that Uncle Jamie is DEAD, Mother is DEAD, Amane is DEAD and Kaiba...Kaiba hates me...because why? Why would he try to do that? I don't hate HIM, I always rather admired him for the way he took care of Mokuba and even if he did lose his little brother a couple of times, he was willing to DIE to get him back! I wish I could at least offer to die, to get Amane back...I have died, actually, at least twice that I know about, but I was never given the chance to TRY ...

A long withered arm reaches under the table and drags me out and I do scream except no sound comes out. I'm being held up in the air by what looks like a rotting mummy decked out in Pharaoh-style robes and a voice like rusty and un-oiled door hinges croaks:

"Give him to the Beast."