Ryou's Story
By: ACE329
Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh! If I did, admittedly, there would probably be far less Duel Monsters. So I guess I'm just a fanatic of the characters :)
A/N: Hey all! In honor of a very belated Halloween chapter update, I made the first scene particularly creepy… if you ever look on my profile page, you'll know that I was debating whether to do a Halloween one-shot or continue updating this story. Instead, I got wrapped up in a fanfiction meme project that I immersed myself in, hence delaying this update. It's all good though- at least I'm far surpassing my prediction that I wouldn't update 'til Christmas! Also, please note that I cut the length of this chapter in half (again), so I can give you quicker updates. If you would rather have longer segments, let me know and I can definitely make that happen!
Heads up! From this point on, you may come across scenes that are third-person omniscient. Why? Well, writing strictly in first person, I am strongly limited in what I can reveal so for the sake of the story, some scenes may be edging out of first person and into third. Don't worry, it will not happen often.
Of course, thanks to all of you with your motivating/inspirational/oh-so-kind reviews! They make me smile and remind me why I write on fanfiction :)
Chapter Eight: The Contradiction of Resolution
It was white, impossibly white. The pristine floors gleamed as a killer's smile would after a committed crime. Various scalpels, needles, gauze and other surgical utensils were strewn across cold marble counters, glistening off the jarring florescent lights that lined the ceiling.
There were surgical assistants preparing the room- six of them in total. Five of them were leisurely arranging and rearranging tools that would be needed for their next operation. The last one was purposefully adjusting the straps to the patient who lied on the surgical bed. Although half-hidden behind a surgical mask and a white cap, brilliant royal blue eyes stood out amongst the range of colorless attire. Her unnerving eyes grazed over the patient, a young teenage boy, and smiled reassuringly at him. It was almost patronizing.
The teenage boy was trembling harshly. Bare skin greeted the icy sterile air, with only a thin paper sheet covering up the second half of his body. Goosebumps trailed along the boy's exceedingly pale arms, confined by sturdy leather straps. The heart monitor, hooked up to the terrified patient, beeped frantically.
The sound of brisk footsteps was heard from the hallway. They echoed faintly around the room as the assistants all glanced up expectantly.
"Get in your places, now," A man with startlingly vibrant plum-colored eyes commanded. Everyone nodded their heads and lined up on either side of the patient, looking towards the door where the sound of footsteps grew louder. Each half second where shoe contacted the barren tile floor sounded like a cannon being fired throughout the vacant hospital.
The boy's dark cedar eyes searchingly scanned the people who surrounded him for any indication that there was a trace of sympathy. Instead, placid blank faces stared straight ahead, not paying him the slightest attention.
Suddenly, the door burst open, quickly followed by a tall, sturdy looking man with a sense of severe purpose. His icy hair whipped across his angular face, smoothed over with a resolute facial expression. His lips were pressed together in a thin line, almost a grimace.
Then, deliberately, his russet colored eyes glanced down at the patient, the first human being to truly look at him.
This man was familiar to the patient, and it was a strange sight for him to see that the man wasn't dressed in his usual smirk. His eyes were humorless, yet held subtle traces of his innate hostility.
"What is the diagnosis?" The man finally demanded, shattering the tense silence. His ruby-stained cloak, which was lavishly trailing behind him, fluttered down to a halt when he stopped in front of the boy. It looked odd to him, how this man was the only one not in white. It looked like a splotch of blood on a white shirt.
"Doctor, he has no heart," An assistant briskly stated. His amethyst eyes flashed with intrigue.
"Oh, really?" The man in the red cloak murmured, mostly to himself, "Then why is it that the monitor is picking up a heartbeat?" As if on cue, the beeps being emitted from the monitor increased in frequency.
"We assure you, there's nothing there," a young woman with cerulean eyes affirmed, casually brushing her fringe of brunette bangs away. The rest of the group nodded their heads in agreement.
The man remained silent for a brief instant. Then, tilting his head at a slight angle, evaluated his subject.
"What do you think, Ryou? Is this true?" A hint of a smile was beginning to tinge the man's lips.
The teenage boy, Ryou, desperately shook his head as he choked back a chest-convulsing spasm. He knew if he allowed himself to cry, he would never be able to defend himself.
"N-no! There's nothing wrong with me- I'm perfectly normal!" Ryou sputtered out, struggling to sound coherent. His fear was strangling his thoughts and actions.
The small group of assistants chuckled at the boy's words.
"Then it appears your definition of 'normal' and ours vary greatly," a man with a mass of golden blond hair said bluntly, sneering with expressionless eyes.
"I think he needs to undergo the procedure, Doctor," the woman with the royal blue eyes finally piped up, after the laughter died down. She began to roll out a metal cart with a tray full of surgical tools.
Shocked, the boy turned his head to look at the woman.
"Amane…why are you doing this?" he barely whispered through pale lips. His dark eyes were wide with desperation, beseeching of compassion.
The woman shook her head in response, looking at the man in the red cloak for his command.
"I suppose there is only one way to find out…" the leader of the group affirmed. He then reached into the pocket of his cloak to pull out a pair of latex gloves. Tugging them on, he nodded his head slowly.
"Scalpel."
The man with the plum-colored eyes grasped the tool from the tray and handed it to the one who had requested it.
The boy's eyes widened in horror as he began to squirm against his confines. "No, stop! Don't do this! I have a heart, I would know! I can feel it! Stop!"
"Shut him up, will you." The man in red, now holding the scalpel, used it to gesture over to a counter where a roll of medical tape lied.
"Gladly," confirmed the young male with the amethyst eyes as he snatched the tape off the counter. Ripping off a long piece, he brought it up to the patient's mouth and sealed it shut.
It became impossibly hard for the boy to breathe.
He could hear the heart monitor across the room practically screaming in protest. It was intolerably loud- why couldn't anyone hear it?
"Did you give him the anesthesia?"
"Who cares?" came the automatic response from a man with harsh brown eyes. He exchanged a knowing glance with the blond-haired man who stood next to him. Sinister grins began to darken their features drastically.
"Ah, I guess you're right. Then let us find out if Ryou really has a heart, shall we?" At this, the cloaked man placed the tip of his scalpel against the bare flesh in the middle of the patient's chest.
The boy could immediately feel the harsh prick of the metal poking into him before any incisions were made.
It was enough to induce a wave of terror to wash over him.
The boy squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth to stifle the piercing scream that was bubbling from within his throat. He knew a world of pain was about to ensue.
With a meticulously accurate precision, the man in red used the scalpel to trail a long, straight line down the boy's chest. The patient's translucent flesh parted as if a zipper were being pulled, as a vibrant crimson blood sluggishly seeped out. It leisurely blanketed the boy's snowy skin, tainting it a sickly shade of syrupy fluid.
The boy began struggling fiercely, screaming through his sealed lips. Tears squeezed out of his shut eyes, slipping down his flushed cheeks.
The pain was absolutely unbearable.
"How interesting," commented the cloaked man with eyes the same color as Ryou's blood. Searchingly, he reached into the writhing boy, probing around. "There is nothing."
He pulled his hand out, holding it up so the assistants in the room could see only blood cascade down his wrists.
"Well, then what happened to it?" the woman named Amane demanded. It appeared she, along with everyone else in the room, were completely ignoring the stifled shrieks of agony from their suffering patient.
"He must not have had one to begin with," The plum-eyed man with the deep voice hypothesized.
The cloaked surgeon looked down at his subject, watching him spasm against the straps that contained him. The man's face was devoid of any emotion, his eyes cold.
"No," he finally said, holding a hand to his own chest, "I have it."
All the boy could register at that point was the consistent, grating beeping of the heart monitor as it screamed to be heard.
BE-BEEP BE-BEEP BE-BEEEEEEEEP….
My eyes snapped open at the horrendous sound of my alarm clock going off. In a confused, frantic panic that could only result from being entirely disoriented from sleep, I fell out of bed and slapped the little irksome device to silence it. I then allowed myself to collapse back into my twin-sized bed, heaving an exhausted sigh.
My dreams, or rather nightmares, horrified me. They always did. So many times I would fall into an entire night of rest, only to awaken feeling completely drained of all my energy. How tempted I was, every ungodly early morning, to sleep in just ten more minutes.
But then, as I would close my eyes, I would hear the screams again.
So I force my depleted body, day after day, to rise from my bed, readying myself to go to school.
A hoarse groan emerged from my throat as I strained my eyes to open once more. I didn't even know if I had the strength, or will, to get up this time. Mondays were always the hardest.
Somewhat reflexively, I brushed my hand against my abdomen to feel for the ring that usually rested there.
In less than a second's time, I realized that two things were wrong.
My eyes fully snapped open at this realization, suddenly alert.
One, the ring was missing. It wasn't anywhere on me. I quickly winged my arms out probingly, wondering if I had accidentally torn apart the rope around my neck somehow.
I stared down at my lanky frame. I doubted it.
And then, of course, there was another problem that caused my head to begin throbbing with confusion.
Why was there a long scratch running down my torso? I could feel it the second my fingertips contacted my skin; it began to tingle as I felt a fleeting stab of pain.
As these two troubling thoughts scrambled around in my mind, I bolted out of my bed, heading over to the full-length mirror on my bedroom door to check the damage.
After unbuttoning my shirt, I let it slip to the ground as I stared disbelievingly at that long, ugly scratch. It didn't appear to be a scar, but at the same time, it looked as if I had been attacked with a knife mere hours ago and the blood had only just stopped running freely.
I hesitantly recalled the nightmare I had pulled myself out of. A scalpel, running down my chest, and blood, everywhere.
I felt the color slowly begin to drain from my face. There was just no way….
"Idiot. You need to calm your stupid self down. It is only a scrape," came the harsh voice that had ripped me out of my frenzied thoughts.
I whipped around instantly, recognizing that caustic voice.
"Spirit," I acknowledged, facing Nameless in his materialized form, "What-"
"-What happened?" he finished for me, a spark of amusement flashing in his eyes. His hands were placed defiantly on his hips, his head cocked in a superior sort of way. I shuddered at how his murky red eyes reminded me of my dream.
"Yes. Where did this scratch come from?" I demanded, trying to sound convincing with my unwavering voice. Instead, I sounded like an inexperienced grade school teacher accidently speaking to an adult like a four-year-old.
Nameless knew something that I did not, and that frustrated me. How could I be so unaware when we shared the same body?
"It was a trivial street fight," Nameless answered dismissively, casually flicking a hand away, "Foolish mortals do not know when danger smacks them in the face."
I remained silent for a long moment, trying to let his words register.
"What…what do you do when I'm sleeping?" was all I could cleverly come up with. I was completely appalled. He actually roamed the streets in my body while I slept away?
"What I choose to do while you are out of the way does not concern you," Nameless asserted, staring me down. "But I will say this: while I was doing some…let's just call it 'investigating,' I had come across some irritating victims who did not know whom they were dealing with."
My mind was boiling over with far too many questions, yet I chose to ask one that particularly bothered me. "So then why does my body look like it has been through a slaughterhouse?"
Unexpectedly, Nameless burst out into a harsh, fleeting laugh. "Ah, Vessel, you never fail to entertain me…let's say that you should be thanking me for being able to function in your weak body."
"If you had never been on the streets to begin with, it would have never happened," I pointed out. "And may I ask…where is the ring?"
"And may I just say, your newfound boldness is irritating me," Nameless voiced, imitating my tone with a glint of mockery.
I felt my cheeks begin to flush with a mixture of embarrassment and resentment as I opted to turn away in search of my school uniform. In my chagrin I remained silent.
"Did that hurt your feelings?" Nameless derisively inquired, inclining his head. "My apologies."
"Just go away," I finally snapped, snatching a new uniform from an opened drawer. I trailed over to the joining bathroom, slamming the door shut.
It was right when I had hastily finished fastening the final button on my jacket that Nameless had appeared beside me yet again.
"You ask of me the impossible," he casually said. He was far too close for my comfort, nearly leaning over my shoulder. It was a good thing that he was only a spirit, and not a human being in the flesh.
I almost scoffed at the thought of "Nameless" and "human" going together. It was such a contradiction.
"And why is that impossible?" I found myself asking, regardless that I had resolved to limit my conversation with him scarcely a minute ago. Almost subconsciously, I took a step farther away from the spirit who lingered behind me.
I knew he was up to something.
It was strange, seeing Nameless seeming to struggle with conjuring up his next words. He was so calculating, and yet he never spent even an extra second in silence…he would never want someone to know that he was trying to formulate his words to be as conniving as possible. However, in the reflection of the mirror, I could see that millisecond of pensive thought flashing across his otherwise arrogant face.
And that's where the tables had turned, albeit momentarily.
"I will tell you only what I have to," Nameless briskly began. The hand that I had outstretched for a toothbrush was paralyzed in midair, for my curiosity had my attention directed towards the spirit's words.
"In the midst of my little 'brawl,' the bastard I was trying to dispose of attempted to slash me with his pocketknife….whether it was in defense or out of pure intimidation, I do not care. He didn't inflict any real damage, of course, but he did manage to sever the cord that keeps the ring around your neck."
Although that explained why I had an incision running down my chest, I was still at a relative loss. "And this would be relevant because…?"
Nameless's eyes burned with irritation. "Because now I am unable to use your body."
Despite my previous sour mood, I found myself fighting back a spiteful smile. "Where's the tragedy?"
"You disrespectful brat-!" Nameless swung out his arm to strike me, yet of course it went through me.
I saw his face darken to a scowl.
Even though Nameless clearly couldn't hurt me, I took another step away from him, praying he didn't hear my thudding heart. "I hope you realize that if you want me to comply, trying to hit me isn't the best way to win me over. In fact, it isn't the best way to win anyone-"
"Listen." Nameless's command came out as a labored sigh and a growl. "I don't have the patience for this. Just find another rope for the ring so you can put it back on. The ring is on your desk."
I found it at least mildly gratifying, in a snide way, how quickly the spirit's emotions transitioned from smug to livid. I didn't dare communicate my musings, though.
"So how were you able to get back to my apartment if the ring is disconnected?" I finally reached out for my toothbrush and squeezed a generous blob of spearmint toothpaste onto it.
I could tell the spirit was angered by my apparent waning span of attention. It was all an act, of course, but Nameless showed no indication that he knew. Perhaps it was because he couldn't read my thoughts anymore.
And unlike before, he lacked the option of merely possessing my body to get it to do whatever he pleased.
"I only retain so much spiritual power, and I had just enough energy to drag your sorry excuse for a body home. Now you must do as I say. Immediately." Nameless was giving me an expectant look, his eyes piercing through me while I attempted to brush my teeth.
I remained silent for a little while, possibly taking a little too much time with my morning routine while I pondered potential responses to Nameless's request. I was, after all, getting considerably good at ignoring unnerving stares.
I spat out the foam.
"No," I finally stated. In a resolute sort of way, I placed my blue toothbrush back in its holder.
I heard a strange mixture between a hiss and a snarl as Nameless took a persuasive step closer to me.
"How dare you act this way. Have you forgotten what I am capable of? I murdered someone, and believe me, I have done so many more times before that. Is that not enough to prove to you of the danger you're in if you disobey me?" Nameless asserted, clenching his fists.
To be honest, it doesn't matter how familiar I become to the spirit's ways, I will always have a sense of uncertainty about him. I never entirely know how he will choose to act.
So I took a gamble.
"But…would you really choose to hurt me?" I asked slowly. "I mean this…this is your body too." I winced, loathing the words that came from my mouth. However, I wanted to sound convincing, so sacrifices had to be made.
"That's up for you to decide," Nameless answered smoothly, without blinking. "Although I think it's quite clear that I can be as drastic as possible if I find it necessary."
I suddenly remembered the brief instant when the spirit tried to strike me with his arm.
But then again, I'm pretty sure he was aware of his transparent state.
Could his physical aggression be just a façade?
As if to answer my question, an image of my bloodied, shattered piano flickered in my mind.
Another image, even more fleeting, of my previous nightmare slashed through my thoughts. The blinding whiteness of everything and the spirit, cloaked in red, tainting the scene.
A wave of nausea abruptly crashed over me, flooding my insides with repulsion. Fear.
It all happened so fast.
And then it became so blatantly clear to me, more distinct than the red on white from my dreams, that I was so entirely, alarmingly stupid.
Realization had finally smacked me hard in the face.
There I was, talking to a murderer, as if he were a regular human being. I had almost forgotten the fact that he had killed Miho's brother without even the tiniest spark of remorse.
He was a psychopath.
And I was actually considering putting that cursed ring back over my head.
"You…you would hurt- kill- anyone to get what you want," I finally breathed, voicing my thoughts. "People are not living things to you. They're…they're objects to manipulate." As I heard my own words, the reality of the situation was becoming all too tangible.
"And I was beginning to wonder what was wrong with you," Nameless grinned in his Cheshire way. "Now, listen to me and put the ring back on."
"No." It was all I could manage to choke out, but I lashed it out in the most detestable way possible.
The bathroom began to feel like it was caving in on me, like it was far too small to house my erupting emotions.
Before my thoughts processed my actions, I was running out of there, fleeing from the spirit who seemed to lurk in every crevice of my agonized mind.
I didn't even pause to look back. Not even at the ring that beckoned me innocently from the polished surface of my desk.
No, instead I focused on dashing out of my room, past my father, down the stairs, and out of my apartment complex all within a record-breaking time of about five seconds. I barely even remembered snatching my school briefcase, or giving a hurried explanation to my father as to why I was out the door half an hour before school started.
I just shut my mind down and let my body react as it should have days ago.
Review…? :)