Hello Possums,

Sorry for the delay in posting- I have been experiencing 'writers block' :'(

BUT I'M BACK BABY! And this is a longer chapter by way of apology.

**** AUTHOR'S NOTE *****

As mentioned, some of this story comes directly from the manga, and other parts are purely fantasy made up by yours truly.

Ryou's father has never been given a name, not even in the manga, so I chose Arihiro. It is a bold name that means willpower, authority and leadership.

Ryou's mother and sister Amane did die in a car accident in the manga, however his father did not remarry in the original.

Enjoy! And as always, feel free to comment/review ^.^


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"Mother, may I please sleep over at a friend's house tonight? Three of us are working on a presentation together at school and need to practice our lines." Ryou moved about the table, collecting the various utensils and dishes from breakfast. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his mother staring with surprise, her eyes flicking to meet his equally amazed father. He knew it was an odd-sounding request; he had never even really had friends, never mind visited anybody's house before. Even to himself it sounded strange, alien; he half wondered if she would say no simply out of shock.

But, when Ryou looked up again, his mother's kind green eyes were twinkling with happiness. "Of course you can, Ryou. Do you need me to speak with his mother? How will you get home tomorrow? Should I pick you up?"

"Her mother- and no I don't think so, unless you want to speak with her? I will just walk home, it's not too far from here, and I don't have cram school on Saturday so I don't need to rush back." Ryou ignored his mother's raised eyebrows at the revelation that he was visiting a girl- after all, they were group mates, and Maya's house was the closest to school, making it the easiest place for all three of them to meet. It was nothing more than that.

"Alright. I suppose that's fine. But if Maya's parents are around make sure you are polite and don't overstay your welcome. You will be sleeping in different rooms, I suppose?" Ryou's mother tried in vain to hide her wide grin behind a mock stern expression, and Ryou flushed in embarrassment at her obvious glee at the situation. Rolling his eyes and nodding in response, the teen ran a hand through his

[Smoky]

hair and absentmindedly straightened a placemat, his mind elsewhere. He was slightly nervous about visiting Maya's house- how should he act? Where would they sit? What if he did something embarrassing, or worse, insulting? He knew he was being foolish, but he wanted so badly to be friends with his classmates that he would have worn a bright pink flamingo suit if it would make them like him. He grinned at the image of himself wearing a flamingo suit- okay, maybe he wouldn't go quite that far. He was simultaneously disappointed yet oddly pleased that Cole would be joining them on the sleep over; he wasn't sure if he could handle being alone with Maya, even if her mother were to permit it in the first place.

Ryou had almost forgotten about Maya's sleepover invitation and had intended to turn it down out of shyness, however after the night he'd had, he had immediately messaged her that morning accepting her offer. On a deeper level, he was terrified of being alone that night. While he knew it had merely been a nightmare, the vividness of his dream the night before had rattled him and he felt quite sure that being away from his bedroom for a while would clear his mind of the lingering worry and fear he had experienced. He was determined not to enter the weekend

[tomorrow, Ryou]

with negativity; he was hoping his new Duel Monsters cards would arrive while he was at school and he could break them in. He had only recently began to show an interest in the game, but being an avid collector, Ryou was delighted by the many numerous playing cards available, and the combinations they could be put to. He perked up a little as he envisaged the team he would put together once he had enough cards; he was particularly fond of the beast cards, such as Big Koala or Ape Fighter.

"Ryou, are you going to wear that at school? Mind the cord doesn't break and you lose it." Ryou's father eyed his son from his position hunched over a small faded book, an open notepad beside him where he took notes as he read at the table. Ryou blinked once or twice before realising what his father meant; he glanced down at the ring hanging around his neck. It dimly occurred to him that the weight of the gold ring, heavy and solid in hand, could barely be felt when he was wearing it. It was almost as though it became lighter for its wearer- ridiculous as that sounded. The white-haired teen wrinkled his nose in faint irritation at the sight of the polished gold object; was sure he had removed it after his shower early that morning, but obviously it had slipped his mind.

"Sure, Dad. I think I'll leave it at home, actually." Ryou with deliberate care removed the necklace, pulling it up and over his head so that it was now hanging by its cord from his clenched fist. His father nodded absently in response, his eyes watching the necklace as it swayed slightly. Ryou, suddenly feeling more cheerful, grinned at his father and made his way upstairs to collect a change of clothes and his school bag, pausing briefly only to throw the ring deliberately onto the middle of his bed on the way out.

As Ryou made to leave the room, a sudden flare of golden light cast his shadow momentarily across the wall beside him: his outline seemed unnaturally large, the shape of his hair longer and wilder than it was in reality. Ryou blinked with surprise, but as quickly as it had appeared, the light was gone, his shadow nothing but a spot in his vision every time he blinked. Ryou paused, but did not turn around. His heart was beating a little faster, his knuckles white where he grasped his overnight bag.

"No. I'm not interested. I'm leaving." His voice echoed slightly in his still bedroom, high and wavering a little. He wasn't sure who he was talking to; he hoped it was just himself listening. Determinedly, he fixed his thoughts on the day of school ahead, and his excitement at sleeping over at Maya's that night. "It'll be fine."

His door closed with a resolute click, emphasising the statement.


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Arihiro Bakura hummed quietly to himself as he pored over the small threadbare book in his hands. The script was difficult to decipher, and badly faded, but it contained an incredible amount of information and the white-haired man felt he was close to pinpointing his next survey destination. Arihiro was what was known as a 'retriever'- he searched the globe for ancient relics and texts to bring back to whichever museum or collector had employed him. It was difficult work, demanding and often under-appreciated, but for the older man, the thrill of the hunt outweighed all the negatives. He was often wracked by guilt over leaving his wife and Ryou alone for months on end, but he inevitably always ended up accepting new jobs; it was in his bones to travel.

With a sigh, the weary researcher leaned back, stretching his arms over his head and yawning loudly. The house was empty; Ryou had left for school over an hour ago and his wife was out running errands. There was an absolute stillness to the house, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock in the kitchen. Arihiro closed his eyes and luxuriated in the tranquil quiet. He rarely had a chance to work by himself, surrounded as he always was by his field helpers, other researchers and historians. Not having to speak or be spoken to was quite a treat.

Ryou wouldn't be home that night. Arihiro smiled slightly to himself; he felt oddly sad that Ryou was growing up. After worrying about his son for so long and wishing that the small boy would one day make good friends, now that Ryou was doing exactly that, his father felt slightly bittersweet about it all. Ah, I suppose that's the curse of being a father; your son will one day no longer need you. His thoughts drifted as he imagined Ryou as an adult; would he keep his hair long? He could envisage his slender boy standing tall and calm; Ryou would be a caring and thoughtful man.

Arihiro's eyebrows knitted with grief as he thought of Amane; Ryou's sister would never have a chance to grow up like her older brother. She was such a bright child. She would be a little lady by now, he thought. The loss of his first wife Rise had been terrible; losing Amane at the same time had nearly destroyed him. Maybe that's why I can never stay at home for too long. Ryou and Amane had been so similar as to almost be twins; every time he looked at his son, Arihiro was reminded of the shadow of the daughter he would never see again. Meeting his new wife had been a godsend for Arihiro- even Ryou now called her Mother. He had been so young when Rise and Amane died in the accident that he barely remembered them, but his father had still been immensely relieved when his son had accepted his new mother; it eased the family's pain a little.

Ah, I am maudlin today. Arihiro stood, shaking his head. He smirked a little with self-depreciating humour. I have some time to myself for the first time in months and the first thing I do is dwell on sad memories. Snorting softly, he flipped the small book shut and placed it neatly atop his notepad, before vaguely looking toward the kitchen- perhaps he would make some toast or something.

Instead, the tall man turned and made his way slowly upstairs, his hand trailing along the bannister as he climbed to the next floor. He had half a mind to take a nap; his thoughts were sluggish and thick with distraction today. This is probably the real reason I can never stay home for long- I get bored too easily, he thought wryly.

Arihiro paused at his bedroom door, however, his hand resting on the knob, his eyes unfocused. He felt… indecisive. Unbidden, he turned his head to stare at Ryou's bedroom door. Why am I feeling so… out of sorts? The older man frowned slightly, his expression slightly irritable. Finally, with a tsk of frustration, Arihiro turned and strode down the small hall, opening the door and stepping decisively into Ryou's room. Perhaps it was the sombre thoughts he'd had earlier, but the father felt the need to be surrounded by his son's presence; it was as though he was homesick for the boy. Ridiculous. Why do I feel like I haven't seen Ryou in weeks, when I saw him only an hour ago? What's wrong with me? He peered around the small bedroom silently, taking in the evidence of his child's existence.

The room was neat; Ryou had always been tidy. Posters adorned the wall in perfect alignment, figurines perched on his shelves in an order that was only obvious to their owner. The bed was impeccably made, the covers pulled tight with barely a wrinkle. Arihiro chuckled quietly to himself at the boy's fastidiousness; he had no idea where Ryou got it from, because his own father was ridiculously messy.

Arihiro huffed with slight irritation; he had wanted to come to the room with such urgency, but something still felt off. This room was Ryou's, alright, but it felt… different. Colder. Detached? He couldn't put his finger on it. The father swung his arms a little uselessly, considering what to do next. I suppose I'll just go nap after all. Maybe I'm coming down with a cold or something. A cool breeze ruffled the man's hair, and Arihiro looked over at the bedroom window. The panes were thrown open, the curtains shifting lazily as the wind filtered through. He frowned a little; Ryou knew the rules about closing the windows when he went to school. They'd once had a freak storm blow through and his son's room had been flooded; I'll have to remind him that the windows need to be closed when he's not home, Arihiro thought, moving across the room to close the panes. He was surprised that Ryou had forgotten, but it was an easy enough mistake to make. Even the most diligent of children forgot sometimes.

A low chink brought the white-haired man back to the present, and, looking down, he was surprised to see the golden ring on the floor by the window; he had accidentally kicked it as he walked. Eyebrows knitting together with confusion, Arihiro squatted down and gently picked the trinket up by its faded leather cord. "What's this doing here?" He murmured, his rich brown eyes watching the slow swinging momentum of the necklace. It was such a strange place to leave the valuable item; he'd thought Ryou treasured the necklace a little more than that. Arihiro frowned, feeling a surge of irritation at his son's thoughtlessness.

"Well, then..." Arihiro stood up, holding the artefact up high so that he could watch the slow turning of the ring. The burnished gold caught the sunlight and reflected it as beautiful golden light; it really was a magnificent item. Arihiro had been so pleased and a little smug to have been able to nab it so cheaply. He recalled with clarity how transfixed he'd been by the ring; he had stood still for almost five full minutes staring at it, nestled amongst other less valuable trinkets and imitation pieces, its metal dusty and dulled, but still glorious. The shop keeper had spoken to him rapidly in Arabic, trying to push other items at the tourist, gesturing madly and grinning winningly the entire time. Arihiro had ignored the attempts however, pointing with sudden surety at the golden ring. He wanted it. He could not explain why, as he generally avoided buying items during work trips, but he could barely look away from the necklace. It was fascinating. It was definitely old, but despite its value in gold alone, the shopkeeper had been almost absurdly happy to part with it for a pittance.

It was almost as though it was meant to be, he thought, his own two brown eyes locked on the eye decal stamped into the soft metal. Arihiro had never meant to give the necklace to Ryou and instead had intended to keep it for his own personal collection, but mere days after purchasing it, he had begun to feel a physical repulsion every time he touched the artefact. It was as though the item itself was rejecting him; it became so intense that Arihiro felt physically sick if he was too close to the ring; that feeling had only faded once he saw Ryou waiting for him at home. Arihiro did not put much stock in superstition, but he had felt that the ring was meant for his son and not for him; how he knew this, he didn't understand, but he didn't question it. Even now, he could feel himself withdrawing from the item; he knew that if he touched the gold ring itself, he may actually be sick, or worse. Wrinkling his nose, Arihiro walked over to the bed, placing the ring gently into the centre, being careful not to touch the metal with his bare hand. There. It shouldn't be left lying about like that. Dusting his hands, Arihiro looked about the otherwise spotless room.

With a sigh, the older man turned to leave. He still felt out of sorts and irritable, and seeing the unnerving ring hadn't improved matters. As he closed the door behind him, Arihiro glanced back at the necklace on the bed. It occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn't have given an item with so much negative energy to a young impressionable teen, but he couldn't help but feel that it had been the right decision. Ryou hadn't reported feeling anything odd about the necklace, and indeed he seemed quite fond of it; he was always wearing it around the house. Arihiro rubbed his chin, pensive. "Well," he murmured out loud, "You may not like me, but make sure you protect my Son." Then, flushing slightly with embarrassment at his odd statement, the older man departed, closing the door with a firm click.


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A snarl; he was furious.

His host had left him. Removed the vessel and left. The spirit paced his Soul Room, prowling like a cornered cat, his hair bristling as though he were raising his hackles, his teeth bared in a feral grimace.

He was still weak. He could linger in the mind, influence his Host's emotions, but he needed to be regularly in contact with Ryou's physical body to exert his strongest influence. He had been working on the boy for a couple of weeks now, and had made good progress, but it was proving more difficult than he'd expected. His Host was a plucky little thing, and not as weak of mind as the Spirit had hoped. Nevertheless, he would win, he would win.

This was a setback though. He had not been apart from Ryou for a single night since their joining, and he was strongest when the smaller teen slept. There, he could pull the strings of dreaming and reality, confusing his small one's mind and planting the seed of doubt. Who knew how much of his hard work would be undone in this single night? He knew his Host was avoiding him; this more than anything enraged the ancient spirit. Their showdown the night before was still fresh in both their minds; Ryou had managed to repel him, somehow, but the Spirit was not deterred; he had tapped into enough of Ryou's subconscious now to know his true fears and dreams and wishes. He would win this battle of wills. Ryou knew this too- that's why he had fled the house. The Spirit narrowed his eyes, thinking hard. I expected him to come to me tonight and concede. I gave him a day to comply. He defies me and leaves me here!

The Spirit snarled inarticulately, punching his palm with childlike rage. Nobody had ever defied him so openly before. It wasn't supposed to be this way; Ryou was supposed to enable his reign, not fight it; he was a Host, nothing more.

The Spirit (Bakura, yes, I am Bakura now) sat on a jutting piece of stone; his Soul Room was dark and dry, like a sealed tomb. He sat and thought, his face flushed with fury. His mind turned inward; he recalled his Host's inner workings, the things he'd discovered during his night-time invasions. Ryou. Ryou. He was a smart one, Bakura could tell. He was smart, but insecure. He was full of many emotions, some familiar and as sweet to the Spirit as a mother's voice; hatred, fear, resentment, deep anguished sadness. Others were less comfortable and more abrasive; hope, love and happiness. But they were dimmer, yes indeed. Ryou had less of a grasp on these. He still wrote to Amane; Bakura had listened to his inner monologue as the white-haired teen addressed his diary entries to his long-dead sister. He puts too much stock in family and love. He is loyal to a fault, almost. Yes. I can use this.

Bakura grinned; yes, that was the way to do it. He had been going about this the wrong way, that was all. Ryou would never allow disaster to befall his precious family and friends, even though those at school barely thought of him- oh yes, Bakura could tell that much as well- but still, the smaller teen had too high a moral sense to allow Bakura to use his body for ill gain.

The Spirit's deep brown eyes narrowed as he honed his plan. Yes. Turn them first. Turn him last. Of course, I'll have to punish him for leaving me here this time, but after that, well, we'll see if he can hold out when I'm the only thing he has left.

Bakura's grimace of rage twisted into what could be considered a smile of sorts. Yes, it was perfect. It would take longer to achieve his goals, but that was all right. It had been five thousand years, after all- another few months would not matter to the ancient one. Yes. Cut him off. The image of an older man with the same bleached-white hair drifted across Bakura's mind. The father.

He grinned wider, his sharp teeth gleaming in the directionless light of the Soul Room.

I'll begin with the father.