A/N: >.>;; I am so sorry. I know I promised I'd keep up to date with, well, updates, but life circumstances are horrendous, and they keep me from the computer. So, err, if anyone even reads this still... second installment in the Memory Album.

Pairing: None – features Bakura, Ryou
Genre: AU, general
Rating: G
Words: 666
Summary: Ryou doesn't need to ever worry; he may not have sight any longer, but Bakura will always be there to be his guiding eyes.

Memory Album
Installment Two: Guiding Eyes

Some people ask me how I manage to raise such a handicapped child, especially at my young age. Blind and orphaned, with only an elder brother as his sole remaining family member, Ryou was never particularly lucky in life. Never have I heard him complain once, however. It has always been difficult on the both of us, but we manage. I manage because I love him more than I could possibly express, and I like to think that his reason is the same as mine.

"What's it look like?"

We are walking down an alleyway filled with kiosks and vendors. His hand is grasped in mine; he does not need a walking stick or a guide dog, because I am always there for him—to be his guiding eyes. But I had remarked on a still-life of some fruit at an artist's stall, and in his curiosity, Ryou had asked for me to describe the image to him.

"Well, there's an orange sitting next to a glass."

Most of the time though, I'm sure I do this task poorly.

"What does the orange look like?" he asks softly, turning unseeing eyes in the direction he hopes the painting is in, but in reality, he is facing the interested merchant instead.

I let my eyes study the painted fruit for a moment. "It's circular." I try to take my hand in his away and he automatically tenses until I turn his hand over, brushing my fingers lightly over his upraised palm. "Like this," I murmur as I trace a circle on his skin, and he nods slightly in an indication to continue. "And it appears round because of the artist's technique of using perspective."

"Round… on a canvas?"

"Mmhmm… He has made things lighter and darker in certain areas, so it looks like it's round. Like this," I finish as I curl my hand into a fist and place his hand atop it. "But in reality, it's a flat surface."

His fingers wrap around mine and squeeze lightly. There is a pause as he stares at nothing before he shifts closer and whispers into my ear. "And… the colors?" His voice is so frail, almost as if it'd crack with the slightest pressure; as if he is terrified to hear my answer because he could never properly imagine it, but he can't help but want to know at the same time.

"They are…" I start but falter as I look away from his eager face and back to the painting. It's not as if I could say that the orange is orange and the glass is clear, with glimpses of the brown table showing through it. He doesn't know what the colors look like, which forces me to focus on the mood the various hues lend the painting, rather. "They are very… soft. Not sharp nor vibrant, but rather delicate and smooth—comforting, I'm tempted to say."

Ryou continues to stare at the vendor, who now looks away out of embarrassment. Then a soft smile curves his lips before he taps my knuckles lightly. "You already said it."

I cannot help but smile myself as I let our hands link together once more. I nod to the artist before leading my brother away down the street once more. We walk leisurely, just enjoying the breeze and the warmth from our connected hands, and I don't think I could be any happier. It is already a blessing that I still have him by my side, like a guardian angel sent down from above to steer me along the right path in life. Sometimes I think that I would be the one lost without him versus the other way around.

"'Kura?" he starts suddenly, still holding securely onto me.

"Yeah?"

Ryou turns to look at me, but in actuality stares at my chin. "Can we go home now?"

The smile that has crawled onto my lips widens and I squeeze his hand gently to reassure him. "Of course, Ryou."