Nothing is so strong as gentleness. Nothing is so gentle as real strength. ~ Frances De Sales


"Those guys are such jerks," Anzu huffed out, "I can't believe they tried to do that to you."

"Yeah," Ryou agreed, and ran a hand through his hair, cringing at the thought. Ushio and his band of unremarkable thugs had almost flushed Ryou's head down the toilet and he was pretty sure that they had planned to do a lot more than that afterwards.

"It's okay, Bakura-kun, they pick on me to," Yuugi said, giving Ryou a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"I guess it was a good thing you too have us, then!" Jou laughed and playfully wrapped his arm around Yuugi.

"Yeah," Ryou agreed.

(But didn't.)

Everyone always underestimated Ryou.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Honda and Jou for saving him from Ushio and his gang of thugs. He was really grateful, flattered even that they cared so much to do so. But the thing was, he really didn't need saving. He could have handled it.

Maybe not in the way they Honda and Jou had, or even the way the Voice in the back of his head recommended. But in his own way.

(He had been handling things his own way for quite some time.)

One of Ryou's earliest most vivid memories was the first day of preschool.

He had been petrified, not only was he going someplace completely knew, but also he was going completely alone. Amane wasn't starting school until the next year.

(And Ryou had never been good at making friends like Amane was.)

The schoolroom had been very colorful, filled with bright posters on the wall and pictures students had drawn.

(But it had also been very empty.)

When his mother had left, Ryou instinctively shied away to the darkest corner of the room while the other kids played getting ready to start the day. Instincts, he would realize later, had to be one of the greatest keys to life. After all, some people are natural born predators.

He doesn't remember that little boy's name anymore, but Ryou can still see him in his mind as if he were looking right at him at this very moment.

The boy certainly hadn't looked like a five year old, that's for sure. He was bigger than most second graders and there was a large scar over his right eyebrow. His blue eyes were like daggers, looking straight into them made Ryou feel as if he was being impaled.

Instinctively, the boy had been drawn to Ryou's dark corner where he had been trying to complete a puzzle.

(After all, some people are natural born prey.)

Ryou would admit to himself that after this the memory became a little fuzzy and only bits and pieces were clear. For instance, he can remember clearly when the boy he asked Ryou what he was doing and the sensation of pain and tasting blood in his mouth but he was not at all sure how he got from point A to point B.

Not that it matter, really, because he could still remember perfectly the one part that counted.

(What he did after.)

He had cried instantly, more from the shock of such pain than anything else, but Ryou had quickly calmed himself and wiped away his tears. Then he wiped the blood from his mouth and looked up at the boy.

He was grinning, ear to ear.

Ryou had simply shaken his head, gathered his puzzle, and walked away.

He never told his teacher, or his parents, or Amane.

(He hadn't needed to.)

The boy had never come near Ryou again.

"I wish the teachers would just expel Ushio already," Yuugi said, scowling, "How does he get away with hurting so many people?"

Anzu responded, but Ryou didn't really pay attention to what she said. Yuugi's words had already taken control of his thoughts.

Many people got away with hurting others, far more than what would be fair. Every school Ryou had ever been to there was that "he", that "he" that could get away with whatever "he" wanted at the costs of others. And, instinctively, they always found him.

The bully from his first year of Junior High stood out the most though, because that was when it finally escalated from pushing, naming calling and things of that nature to punches and black eyes. What had his name been again? Miki? Makoto?

Makoto, yes, he was pretty sure his name had been Makoto. He had dark brown eyes and really big fists and that was really all Ryou could remember about him. Again, it didn't really matter because he was just another bully in the sea, and it was more what he did and not why he did it.

It had been the third month of the year when Makoto had beaten Ryou to a pulp. His body had been covered in bruises, a tooth had fallen out and he had a black eye. He had been so proud of himself though. The entire time that Makoto had beaten him up Ryou never once screamed, cried, begged him to stop or fought back.

Ryou was better than that.

(Ryou was stronger than that.)

Makoto never bothered Ryou again after that.

And that's what Jou and Honda didn't understand, could never understand. To be strong you don't need to attack. Rocks are strong, and for the most part they only sat in one place, unmoved and unchanged. You had to be like a rock. Because the wind can howl at a rock, but it does not move. Rain can pound at the rock, but the rock simply takes it. Retaliation only fuels whatever keeps those types of people going. But when you do nothing, they in turn can only do nothing. Force is almost never needed, sometimes you only need to be gentle.

And that knowledge, that still rang true to this day, made Ryou smile a kind of secret hidden smile to himself.

Everyone always underestimated Ryou.

He didn't mind though.

(It just made his winnings all the more satisfying.)


A/N HEY GUYS I WROTE A STORY. A CHAPTERED STORY.

Yeah, it's called "Fireproof" and it's vaguely based on chapter 25. You can find it by clicking on my profile. So it's an AU filled with demonic magic, Ryou and Bakura, and many other character who have yet to appear in this story (Like Yami no Malik, who shall be called Marik). So you it would be awesome if you gave it a try because updates will not be as frequent here while I'm working on it. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter, regardless though! Review!