A/N: And we're back already for Part I! Everyone who has read, reviewed, alerted or faved, thank you so, so much! I'm actually really surprised at the reception this has received just from a brief prologue. Thank you all, including all you lurkers and newcomers, I hope you enjoy Part I!

As always, there will be a glossary of terms and notations at the end. :)

Warnings: Spoilers! Haven't made it through Yu-Gi-Oh!: Millennium World manga and don't want it spoiled, then read that first, then come back. Also, we will probably have a rating jump to M later on. I'll give a heads up before it happens, but be aware.

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! and related characters are © to Kazuki Takahashi.

Haunted

Part I

Raven Ehtar

"Nerd!"

A pair of hands, large as plates from the feel of them, shoved Ryou hard from behind. It took him by surprise and he landed badly with a yelp of pain, dropping the figure he'd been holding, cracking one knee into the pavement and scraping the heel of one of his hands. He whimpered at the pain and made a quick grab for the figure he dropped, trying to keep it safe and out of sight, but someone else was quicker. A grubby hand snatched it away and brought it before the sneering face of another boy.

"What's this, nerd?" Standing over Ryou was a ten-year-old with a fat face named Taro. He peered at the figure he held between two fingers, squinting his already tiny eyes to make out the details.

Ryou flinched. Not from the name calling, he was far too used to that to be much affected by it anymore. But it upset him to see his precious figurine in Taro's uncaring grip. It was a new one, one of the rarest kinds for his new tabletop game. He knew it would be a bad idea to bring something so valuable to school, but he just couldn't bear to leave it at home. It had to stay close to him. So he'd slipped it into a pocket, only intending to touch it now and then to assure himself it was there, like a good luck charm. But then… no one had seemed to be near or looking his way… and he'd just wanted to take a quick look…

And now he was on the ground, knee and hand stinging terribly, and Taro holding the figure as though it were something a cat had just finished with, his piggy eyes glinting malevolently.

"It's just a figurine," he mumbled, not looking Taro in the eye in case he took it as defiance. He held out a hand, the one he scraped on the pavement. "Please give it back."

Taro's face screwed up even further with the effort of thought. "A figurine? Like an action figure?"

Ryou opened his mouth to agree, hoping the term 'action figure' might save it from whatever horrid fate was developing Taro's puny brain. Before he could get a word out, however, another familiar voice interrupted. "No, Taro, not an action figure."

Dread filling him, Ryou turned his head to see Suichi, a boy a year older than Taro in body and about five or so in intelligence. He looked down at Ryou and smirked, the expression weirdly incompatible with his innocent baby face. "That would be far too cool for this loser," he said sweetly. He walked past Ryou toward his flunky and pretended to examine the hostage miniature closely. "See, look," he pointed, causing Taro to squint further. "If it were a real action figure, then it would have moving parts. Besides, who ever heard of an action figure in a dress?"

Taro threw his head back and laughed, Suichi's smirk widened and Ryou dropped his head, his face burning. "It's not a dress," he muttered into the ground. "They're wizard's robes…"

"A dress!" Taro crowed at the top of his voice, ignoring Ryou's quiet denial. "Baby Bakura plays with dolls in dresses! Not just a nerd, a prissy-boy nerd!" He continued to laugh, seeming not to notice when Suichi took the toy out of his hand.

"Nooo…" He came close to Ryou, so his shoes were right under the younger boy's nose. "I think it's a little worse than that." Suichi crouched down, his face inches away from the top of Ryou's head, who refused to look up. He couldn't see the older boy's face, but he felt as a handful of his white hair was held in a deceptively soft grip and braced himself. "I think maybe the long haired prissy-boy is actually a long haired prissy-girl. What do you think, prissy-girl?"

Ryou didn't answer, just stared at the gray pavement scattered with sharp gravel between his hands. He was relieved that all of this was happening around the side of the building, out of sight of the rest of the school. It was why he had come this way in the first place, to take that one, furtive look at the miniature in his pocket, was because no one was likely to catch him at it. Taro and Suichi must have seen him sneak away and followed him. Of course, now fewer people meant that the chance of rescue was practically nil.

He concentrated entirely on the tiny world between his hands, on how sharp-edged pebbles pressed into his palms, and how the scrapes to his hand and his knee throbbed in time with his pulse. He did his best to tune out the itchiness of his eyes, the sound of Suichi's breathing, Taro's chortles, and the feel of his hair being held.

Pain flared across Ryou's scalp as Suichi suddenly twisted and pulled his hair. "I asked you a question, Bakura. Do you think you're a girl or a boy?" The boy's voice, despite what he was doing, didn't change from its pleasant tenor.

Ryou grit his teeth to keep from making any noise. He wasn't sure, but he had the feeling that if he made any sort of protest Suichi would only make it worse for him. When he thought he could speak without his voice betraying just how much it hurt, he said, "Not a girl. I'm a boy."

"Are you sure?" Suichi tugged sharply at the handful of white strands.

Ryou grunted. He was sure he could feel some of his hair coming loose with all the pulling Suichi was doing. "Yes," he managed.

The pressure eased off, and the older boy's voice became even sweeter, as sweet as candy. "Well then, if you're a boy, then you shouldn't be playing with toys like this, should you?"

Ryou tilted his head to the side so he could see Suichi's face without ripping out an entire handful of hair. Suichi's face was the very picture of childish innocence, with round cheeks and warm brown eyes that crinkled in their corners. Teachers and parents both would coo over him and his charming little smile, but Ryou and a few others knew what a fake it really was. They saw how he used his sweet exterior to hide his sour interior, how he would mask his cruelties with a darling face. Boys like Taro couldn't get away with nearly as much, just because they such angelic features. Whereas Suichi could do as he liked and walk away unscathed because no one could believe such a charming boy could do anything malicious.

Looking up at him from his place on the hard concrete, Ryou could believe it. And not because a good portion of his hair was still balled up in the boy's fist. It was Suichi's eyes. Those warm, deep brown eyes did not smile or lighten. Those eyes were flat and empty, and filled Ryou with more dread than any amount of snarling or threats could ever achieve.

With Ryou's gaze on him, Suichi dangled the stolen figurine before his eyes. With Tarp still standing close and restricted by the grip in his hair, Ryou dared not make a grab for it. "Dolls aren't good toys for a big boy like you to play with," he mocked.

Ryou didn't respond. There was nothing he could think of to say that wouldn't just make his situation worse. Suichi gave his hair another twist, earning a flinch from Ryou, and then tossed the toy back to Taro, who caught it with a slight fumble. The larger boy waved the miniature at Ryou, pulling a face at him over Suichi's shoulder.

"Taro," Suichi spoke to him, still staring straight at Ryou. "Bakura here doesn't need that girl's toy anymore. Break it."

"No!" Ryou jerked in Suichi's grip, tearing free even more hair and starting tears in his eyes. He didn't escape; his hair was only yanked harder to keep him still. "Don't break it, it's rare! Just… give it to someone else, or throw it away. But don't break it!"

"Now, now," Suichi soothed, his tone all honey to hide the barbs. "If we do that, then who's to say that you won't find a way to get it back? We can't have that, now, can we?"

"Can't have that," Taro echoed and chuckled as though it were a great joke. While Ryou watched, Suichi shifting to a side to give him a clear view, Taro dropped the figure to the ground and brought down a heavy foot on top of it. It was a rare figurine, but it was made of PVC, not lead, and it crunched readily beneath the sole of Taro's shoe. The large boy ground the pieces of Ryou's broken figure into the gravel with relish.

Suichi, still wearing his gentle, empty-eyed smile, shook his fingers free of Ryou's hair. With his figure already destroyed, it hardly mattered anymore, and Ryou didn't move once he was released. "I think that's enough for now."

The small sounds of PVC being crunched into ever smaller pieces suddenly ceased. "That's all?" Taro didn't even attempt to conceal the disappointment in his voice.

Suichi stood, and brushed off his hands against his slacks, stepping away from the still form of Ryou. "Of course. We are his friends, after all, just looking out for his best interests. It wouldn't do to have our friend walking around with a girl's toy. Or bruises," he added pointedly.

Anyone watching Taro's face as he worked out the implications of what Suichi said would have seen comprehension lighting up his face like a slow dawn over mountainous countryside. "Uh, right. So…"

"So we will be going back inside to attend our classes," Suichi supplied. "It's nearly time and it wouldn't do to be late."

Taro hesitated, his brow crinkling with worry as he looked at Ryou, who refused to rise to his feet while the other two remained. Suichi followed his gaze and smirked. "Don't worry about Bakura, Taro. I'm sure he can find his own way in, and he wouldn't dream of troubling anyone inside with our little chat."

Ryou didn't bother replying aloud, but rather bowed his head further, refusing to look up at his two tormentors staring down at him. Despite the valiant effort he was putting forth to keep from showing any further weakness for them to exploit, tears were on the verge of spilling onto his cheeks. Even digging his teeth into the inside of his cheek wasn't doing much to stop them. Looking up with a face like that would only give his bullies even more ammunition. Not that they needed more.

The sound of receding footfalls came as a relief to Ryou; the light, almost silent steps of Suichi and the heavier, uncaring set from Taro. Ryou finally allowed himself to relax, and sat back on his heels after sweeping the crushed and shattered model into his hands. Through the blur of unshed tears he stared down at the pieces of what had only a few minutes before been his most prized possession. It wasn't even the destruction of his rare figure that made his eyes fill with stinging tears and every breath a strain; it was how familiar this kind of scenario was becoming. It seemed that every day had at least one kind of incident, something more than just the taunts or sly kicks at his shins in the hallways, and the bully never seemed to catch any sort of punishment for it. Occasionally one would be caught in the act, but if they ever got more than a harsh word, then it was like as not to go even harder for Ryou the next time. Even without Suichi's subtle warning not to tattle, Ryou knew better than to try. There had been no witnesses, if any teachers confronted the two with this incident they would know exactly who would have ratted them out, and who to revenge themselves on. Ryou had already learned that lesson long ago.

If he'd had any friends it might have been different, but even those who didn't think of him as a hopeless introvert were reluctant to make friends with the human equivalent of a punching bag. If they did, who was to say that they wouldn't become targets by association? Ryou, rather than putting any effort into making friends, went out of his way to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Why would Ryou put himself forward when attention of any kind usually turned out badly?

Ryou sniffled and pocketed the broken figurine; he might be able to salvage it, he told himself. He just didn't understand why playing certain kinds of games made him such a target for this kind of thing. So he liked to play tabletop role-playing games, was that really so unusual that it called for such ostracism? Or was it just something about him personally that made him such a perfect mark?

He wiped away the one tear that managed to escape, rubbing grit into his cheek and salt into his scraped palm, and felt the all too familiar hot knot of anger writhe in his belly. The tears were useless, as was the fury that caused them, but while he could stem the tears, he couldn't do the same with the fury. It just wasn't fair! Why should he be so miserably singled out and picked on? Why couldn't he be left alone?

When the bell sounded, calling in everyone from recess, Ryou was fairly sure he'd found all of the tiny pieces of his broken figure amongst the gravel. Any hope of repairs had been dashed effectively, but he still gathered them up and stowed them in his pocket, then hurried along inside with the press of other children.

"Ryou!" A small flying tackle aimed at his midsection swiftly followed the excited shout.

The air was knocked out of Ryou in a whoosh as he stumbled back, stopping abruptly when his back met the wall. Still holding onto one of his shoes he had been in the process of removing and clutching his book bag that had slipped from his shoulder, Ryou looked down at the dark head buried into his jacket at about the level of his ribs. "Hello to you, too, Amane," he said when he could draw breath again.

The head tilted back to reveal a bright, smiling face, remarkably similar to his own. Same snub of a nose, same small mouth, same shape to the deep nut-brown eyes, even the same pointed chin beneath the layer of baby fat that Amane had yet to grow out of. Only her hair was notably different, black as a starless midnight as his was white as fallen snow.

She grinned up at her brother widely, her smile only having recently recovered from a major gap after she lost two of her front teeth. He smiled back down at her wearily. "Nii-chan, nii-chan! Mama got us some new paints today, come play!" Amane bounced a little bit as she spoke, jouncing Ryou.

Normally Ryou would play with his little sister readily. There was a wide gap between their ages, he was nine and she was six, but he didn't mind playing games with her. So long as he kept his models out of her reach, there was never any conflict. But today he just wanted to be left alone. The run-in he'd had with Taro and Suichi had put a major crimp in his day, and that hadn't been the last incident before the last bell finally rang. When the time to pack up his books and change his shoes had come he'd counted up three more minor confrontations. Now he just wanted rest, to get his homework done and not think about school again until he had to.

"Not right now, Amane," he said, setting down his book bag carefully and trying to get her to let go. She clung to his tenaciously, refusing to be pried free.

"But nii-chaaaaaan...!" she pouted, squeezed him tighter when he tried to slip a hand under her arm to lever her away. "They're so pretty, and I want you to see what I painted already!"

Ryou sighed, shimmied around with Amane still attached to him, and sat on the lip of the genkan to finish taking off his shoes. Amane couldn't hang on without taking a nose dive into the floor, so she let go and pouted at him. "I'll come and look later, okay? I'm hungry and have some homework to do first."

"But dinner won't be for hours, and your homework takes forever. Come look now and do your homework later."

He gave his sister a look over his shoulder. "Are we being bratty today, Amane-chan?"

The girl's expression was somewhere between the pout and being rebellious. Ryou remembered their mother giving that look a name once, what had it been? Ah, yes. 'Petulant'.

"Nooooo," Amane said eventually, sounding every bit as though she wished she could say 'yes' and get away with it.

"Then let me get some things done first, okay? You know how important it is to get schoolwork done."

His sister nodded, downcast but no longer arguing. Seeing her crestfallen over something so small, some of Ryou's resolve melted, and he offered a compromise. "I'll see if Mama will let me have a snack, then do my math homework first, then come look at your pictures, okay? I'll finish the rest after."

Amane immediately brightened, nodded, and ran off to – Ryou assumed – set out the paintings she most wanted him to see.

Ryou smiled after his sister. At least he could depend on a friendly welcome from her after a less than enjoyable day at school. Kicking off the last shoe and setting it in its place, then pulling on his house slippers, the boy scooped up his bag and made his way to the kitchen. His mother, against expectations, wasn't there yet to start preparing the evening meal. Rather than seek her out to ask, he grabbed a small box of crackers out of the bottom cupboard. His mother usually insisted on their asking for between meal snacks, but he had noticed she didn't mind so much when it was a snack right after getting home, and as long as Amane didn't see him and pick up the same habit.

With his small prize, Ryou then made for one of the two little bedrooms at the back of the apartment. He was glad to have his own room, and knew how lucky he was to have one. His parents weren't rich, but they were comfortable enough. Even so, it was hard to find places with excess space like this. It was one of those little luxuries that they indulged in.

Walking down the short hallway that connected the living room with the two small bedrooms and the bathroom, he paused at the small hall table to stare at something that hadn't been there that morning. Beside the sky blue vase of orchids drooping their heavy heads and a wireless phone on its base was a small – tiny, really – yellowish box. Ryou's eyes narrowed, he bent to look at it more closely. Definitely a box, it looked as though it had been carved from some kind of stone, though the harder he looked, the more it looked like it was bone, or maybe even ivory, yellowed with age. It was carved all the way around with tiny elephants, complete with slender tusks and wrinkles at the knees, walking through grasses and reeds. There were no hinges, the lid was sized just so it fit over the lip of the box and made to be lifted away whole. It was an impressive piece, and very pretty.

It was also new to the apartment, and not the kind of thing his mother would buy on a whim.

Fresh, new anger suddenly rose inside him. Ryou stalked the rest of the way to his room, shutting the door behind him just shy of enough force to be a slam. His book bag was tossed into a chair, the crackers flung onto the desk, both appetite and initiative to begin his homework practically extinguished.

It wasn't as though the box were a strange item to find in his home. The apartment was scattered with similar, some were more detailed, some plainer, larger, and all of them from Egypt or very near. His and Amane's father was an Egyptologist, a fairly successful and prominent one who owned a museum somewhere in Japan. But he was also something of an adventurer, a scholar bitten with wanderlust that hadn't abated even after marrying and having two children. Rather than remaining in the country, overseeing the museum and sifting through the discoveries sent to him, he spent as much time in Egypt himself as he possibly could. It was a good year when he and Amane got to see their father for more than eight weeks out of fifty-two. To make up for it, he would send gifts, unique little finds that could make it through customs, as though baubles were an even trade-off.

Ryou's cheeks were hot, his hands balled into fists as he glared at nothing, rage running through his veins. The box was new, which meant it had arrived in the post that day. If there had been a delivery, then it meant his father didn't plan on coming home any time soon. If he did, he would have just brought the box with him rather than send it through the post. He wasn't coming home…

Ryou's birthday was in three days. He was turning ten this year, and his father had all but sworn in blood that he would be home for it. A promise that was obviously going to be broken.

It explained the new paints Amane was playing with. She had been looking forward to their father's visit as well, and while she might not understand the significance of the package from Egypt, their mother would. The paints were a pre-emptive peace offering. A peace offering for Amane, but none for him. Ryou ground his teeth; felt the four sharp semi-circles of his nails dig into each palm as his fists balled up even tighter. Not that he would have accepted any kind of peace offering, but it might have been nice to have at least been offered one.

He took a deep breath, shook out his hands, and forced himself to relax. The anger still lay there, waiting coiled in the pit of his belly like a serpent. He stood and breathed for a minute, trying to calm down, without much success.

This would make the fourth birthday of his that his father had been absent for that he could remember. Every year he sent apologies, increasingly elaborate presents, and increasingly ardent vows to be home in time for the next one. It was becoming as dependable a birthday tradition as cake. Unlike cake, though, his father's false promises and weak excuses only left a bitter taste in his mouth. What made it worse was how his mother only ever deemed it necessary to comfort Amane when their father failed to put in an appearance, even though Ryou could only remember one of her birthdays that he'd missed. He could understand that she was younger and needed more attention and explaining, but he was outright ignored. It was like she assumed her son needed no reassurances whatsoever. But then, that was fairly typical of her, to focus solely on her daughter, and leave the son to fend for himself.

When he felt like he could walk without stomping, Ryou went to his desk and began emptying out the book bag, stacking up texts neatly on one corner, using a tight self-control born from years of practice. The books were stacked so precisely he might have been using a straight edge. It was usually a sign of how irritated he was: the more self-control he had to use to keep his hands from shaking, the neater things around him became as a result. His room, he noted wryly, was nearly always immaculate.

It wasn't a very good beginning of the school term, he reflected. Worse than usual, in fact. Normally he had more time before the bullying began in earnest, at least a week, maybe two, before something like what happened with Taro and Suichi. They were starting early this year right along with the term. He wanted to believe that since they were beginning early they would ease off early, as well, but he seriously doubted it. More likely he had a very, very long year to look forward to.

If he had just one friend, then it might not be so bad. He didn't expect anyone to leap to his defense, but to have someone on his side at school, someone who he knew wasn't out to get him. He loved Amane, but she was hardly the source of support he needed. What he needed…

Sitting down at the desk, something stabbed into his hip. He yelped, jumped back up to his feet in surprise. There was nothing to be seen, but there was something in his pocket.

Ryou pulled out the handful of broken shards of plastic that had once been his rare RPG figurine. He'd forgotten he'd saved them. Laying them all out across the top of his desk, it quickly became apparent that it was unsalvageable. There were one or two pieces missing, despite how carefully he'd searched the gravel, but even if he'd gathered every scrap, some of the pieces of PVC were so warped as to be unusable. It would be impossible to try and repair.

For a while Ryou just stared at the pieces, considering sweeping them all into the garbage and forgetting all about it. Suddenly he stood, crossed the room and came back with a small tin box. Inside, when he opened it, were many, many more pieces of other broken figurines that, for one reason or another, he had saved rather than thrown away.

Fired up with a new drive and completely ignoring the tidy stack of textbooks at his elbow, Ryou began picking through his collection of broken figures. One figure by itself may not be salvageable, but surely there would be pieces here somewhere that would fit it…

"Happy birthday, nii-chan!"

"Happy birthday, Ryou."

Ryou smiled, trying to look as happy as he should for a boy reaching double digits. He felt rather guilty that he couldn't seem to muster any real enthusiasm. There was a cake, a good sized one for only three people to share, and balloons, an addition made at Amane's insistence, since a birthday just wasn't a real birthday without them. On the table he, Amane and their mother sat around were three presents, all wrapped in bright, patterned paper and topped with bows. Amane was barely managing to keep her seat, she was so wound up. A birthday was a birthday as far as she was concerned, no matter if it was hers or not. Their mother, Noriko, sat and smiled as she looked over her two children. She was still young for a woman with two kids, though there were the beginnings of fine lines at the corners of her mouth and her black eyes. Her hair, though, was still auburn through and through, with no touch of gray. She had done what she could to make this little party as cheerful as possible, it was her touch that made the gifts so perfectly wrapped, the cake so carefully frosted.

Yet all Ryou could see was the fourth side of the table, conspicuously empty of his father, and how echoingly bare the whole apartment felt with only the three of them celebrating. He could remember past birthdays when there had been friends, but that had been some time ago. This just felt forced, even the balloons, like they were all pretending it was a happy occasion, but knew it wasn't.

Still, he tried to smile.

"Thank you," he said, and then wondered what else there was to say.

He was saved from having to think about it by Amane, who threatened to bounce right off of her zabuton, squeaking, "Open your presents! Open your presents!" She had been a little upset when their father hadn't appeared, but the disappointment had melted away quickly enough with the prospect of cake.

Noriko smiled and put a gentle hand over her daughter's to settle her down. "Hush, Amane, he will. Be patient." She smiled at Amane, who pouted at her mother but she stopped bouncing. The elder woman turned to Ryou with the same smile, eyes crinkled and warm. "Which one would you like to open first?"

Conscious of Amane watching him, he looked over the three gifts and made a show of thinking, as though it were a difficult decision. He held his chin and squinted at the presents, tilting his head. "I don't know…" After a minute, he looked at his sister, who was near to bursting a gasket and cracked a tiny smile. "Which do you think, Amane?"

This time the girl did come up from her zabuton, throwing off her mother's hand and seizing upon the smallest of the gifts, a little bigger than his hand, and wrapped in bright pink paper with a white bow. "This one, this one!"

Ryou took it and raised an eyebrow at the girly wrapping. "Is this one from you?"

Amane nodded proudly, grinning from ear to ear.

Ryou chuckled and carefully unwrapped the gift, pulling up each bit of tape and undoing each fold. Inside was a small mirror, much like the kind women used to apply makeup, but with a handmade frame, decorated with painted flowers and lopsided blobs that might have been butterflies. The face that looked back at him from the confines of that cheerful frame looked happy.

"Do you like it? I made it at school last week!" Instead of bouncing, now Amane was leaning toward her brother in concentration, trying to read his reaction.

He smiled at her. "Of course I do, it's very pretty. You did a wonderful job."

"Yay! I thought so!" Amane left her seat to fling her arms around Ryou's neck and give him a little kiss on the cheek. "Happy birthday, nii-chan!"

Mindful of the mirror in his hand as he did so, Ryou hugged her back.

Once the first gift was unwrapped, and the tension of waiting for her brother to see the fruits of all her labors at the kindergarten dissipated, Amane settled down. The next gift, from his mother, wrapped in blue and just as carefully unwrapped as the first, proved to be a set of modeling paints and small brushes. Perfect for the figures that he liked to paint himself, a very practical gift that he had pointed out to her a couple of weeks before. Much better than the extra school supplies he normally got.

And then there was only one gift to go. Ryou stared at it a moment, wondering if her even wanted to touch it. Just looking at it, a flattish square wrapped in rust colored paper and a gold bow, reminded him of all of his anger. It was hard to see that present as anything other than an apology, a bribe to forgive and forget his father's continued absence. Opening it would be accepting it, accepting it would be like saying it was alright his father never showed any interest in him. That it didn't hurt and that he didn't care.

Noriko, seeing him hesitate, slid the package down to him. "And this one is from your father, Ryou," she said, a note of hope in her voice.

Ryou didn't touch it. A flat, rough square, it was about twice the size of Amane's gift, and two inches high. It was so plain, but Ryou hated it intensely. He looked up from the rust package to the empty side of the table. It was no replacement for who was meant to be here.

Noriko correctly guessed the track of her son's thoughts and interjected herself into them. "He sent a letter along with the present, Ryou. He's sorry he couldn't make it for your birthday; there's been some important find in the Theban Hills. He hopes to have everything wrapped up to where he can leave in a month or two."

The boy didn't respond. It was the same excuse he heard every year, only the details ever changed. Something came up somewhere, something more important than his family waiting at home that kept him in Egypt, digging through the dust of centuries. Rather than taking time to know his son, he sent back curios centering on his own interests. It really was all he knew, Ryou supposed. The people he tried the hardest to know were hundreds of years dead, most of his days spent bent over tiny chisels and brushes, hunting out secrets.

When he finally reached for the last present, Noriko relaxed visibly. Even Amane seemed a little relieved. Ryou was so careful and slow in unwrapping this gift that he doubted the tape he pulled free even left marks on the paper. Inside was a box he recognized as the kind jewelry was normally put in. The corners were rounded and the surface was soft, almost velvety, and the size was right for a necklace. Curiosity peaked in spite of himself; Ryou found the front of the clamshell box and pried it open.

He gasped aloud when he saw what was waiting inside.

A golden, gleaming eye was staring back out at him from the darkness, glinting in a ray of sunlight that sneaked in. Opening the box further, the watching eye became a simple design, set in the center of an upright triangle of metal. Both eye and triangle were caught in the center of a hollow ring of more metal, from which hung five, freely swinging pieces, each tapering to wickedly sharp points. And all of it was wrought from – what looked like – gold.

Ryou didn't notice that Amane had come beside him close when he hadn't said anything until she cooed and reached out a hand to touch one of the points. "Pretty… What is it?"

"I don't know," Ryou admitted, looking up at his mother. She shrugged.

"All he said about it in his letter was that he had found it in an out-of-the-way stall in the Theban Hills and that when he saw it, it seemed like it was meant just for you."

Ryou frowned at the explanation, but didn't give it too much thought. Instead he found himself staring at his new, golden – was it really gold? – acquisition, trying to puzzle out what it could be. The ring that held all of the various pieces together wasn't completely smooth, he noticed. There were small, interlocking loops that attached the points to the ring, and on either side of these loops were ridges of metal that wrapped all the way around the ring. At the apex of the triangle there was a sixth loop, slightly larger than the rest, but no point attached to it. All of the points were evenly spaced along the bottom half of the ring so they could hang, why one at the top? A place where the whole piece could be hung from, maybe?

Ryou ran a finger over the empty loop.

He blinked.

The metal was cold.

Of course, it made sense for the metal to be cold. Why did it seem strange that it would be? And just a second ago, something had seemed… off. What had it been?

Ryou jumped when his mother put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into her smiling, yet empty face. "Time for cake?"

He looked down at the golden ring, feeling uneasy for some reason. He put it down to the eye that made it look as though he were being watched as much as doing the watching. He snapped the box closed and nodded. "Yes. Cake sounds good."

Ryou shut the door of his bedroom behind him and leaned against it with a sigh. Who knew that pretending to be happy could be so exhausting? The cake had been good, and watching a film with mother and sister had been pleasant enough. Dinner had been delicious and Ryou had stuffed himself freely, and playing with his sister was a welcome alternative to the homework still waiting on his desk. Still, it was tiring to go through it all acting as bright and cheerful as possible. In the end, he felt like he had done more to make sure they had a good day than the other way around.

He went around the room, putting away his gifts. The paints and brushes went into a drawer of his desk, next to the supplies he already had for his model making. The mirror and its bright little frame went on his bedside table. And the box with the golden ring and eye, after a minute of careful consideration, was very deliberately flung against a wall, where it struck with a loud thump and a protesting rattle from the odd object inside.

His father thought he could be mollified with shiny toys? That his affection could be so easily secured with bits of metal? Did he mean so little to the man that this was all he was worth? Not worth time away from his precious sand dunes or bits of broken pottery, or the focus it would require to just sit and talk for a little while, no. But useless curiosities, of the same kind he sent home every month; those were what Ryou amounted to, now. A trinket.

Ryou sat down at his desk, dug out the little figurine that he'd been slowly repairing over the last few days. Having something to do with his hands would help calm him down, and he was nearly finished. He could finish it tonight if he tried. Though, to be fair, 'repair' was an optimistic term for what he'd had to do with the model. It was more like complete reconstruction, using not only pieces of the rare figure, but plenty from other figures as well. The result so far was odd, but interesting. He took out his glues, tweezers, a pair of strong scissors for trimming and a small spool of cord to tie the pieces that needed a few minutes before the glue set and dug into the project with a will.

As he worked he let his mind wander, his thoughts eventually streaming easily from one subject to the next without ever stopping to concentrate on any particular one. Putting together models, even ones that didn't fit together properly, didn't require a lot of thought, and he'd done so many before his fingers worked at the tiny pieces and tools automatically. He thought about the hobby shop two streets down where he got nearly all of his games, figures and so forth from and thought about their newest sets that had come in earlier that week. That led to thinking about the rumors he'd heard about the newest tabletop RPG set to come out before the end of the year, called Monster World. The few pictures he had seen of the different interlocking board pieces, scenery and building props you could get had nearly set him drooling. He itched to play that game. Though, that would require someone to play with. He doubted his mother would be interested, Amane wouldn't have the patience, and neither of them would be likely to grasp the mechanics.

To play, he would have to call on someone closer to his own age who might be interested in RPG's. He tried to think of anyone he knew who would be willing to play if he got a board. It was a short list. So far as he knew, no one at his school liked to play games that didn't involve a controller or running after balls, even if anyone were on speaking terms with him. There were a few people at the hobby shop that he had spoken to, but none of them were his age, all of them being in middle school or higher, and unlikely to want to play with someone as young and poorly skilled as he was. He could assemble and paint the accessories reasonably well because he'd had plenty of practice at that, but almost none at actual gameplay. It didn't stop him from thinking up scenarios for future games, though. That was almost as much fun as assembling the playing pieces.

Let's see, he thought, laying a tiny line of glue. Let's start with a simple warrior who, unknown to him, is under the influence of a curse…

The figure, with much of the tricky parts done in the days before, came together quickly under his hands as Ryou thought out the main plot points for a protagonist who's main enemy was the product of some evil sorcerer's experiment. It was quite involved, and even some of the protagonist's friends would end up fighting against him, believing they were doing the right thing. Ryou almost wished he'd written it all down, but then, the opportunity to use it would probably never come, so it hardly mattered.

The last piece fitted into place with a little click. The glue still wet, Ryou carefully set it on one of the shelves above his desk to let it dry and give it a good, critical look.

It was very, very obvious that what he was looking at was the product of more than one model glued together, but not because it was haphazard or broken looking. He had been careful to use pieces from figures about the same overall size, but the styles and colors were different so there was no mistaking it for anything other than a mixture. In one or two places he'd had to trim and shape pieces until they fit their neighbors, but he noticed that those joins were where it was hardest to tell where one ended and the next began. Ryou was proudest of the face, though. That in itself was a combination of three separate models. It now looked back at him using the eyes of two different miniatures and smiled at him with the mouth of a third, and the overall shape of the head was perfect.

It was a strange composite figure, made up of bits he never would have thought would go together, but it all worked out to an interesting piece. One of a kind, that was certain. He would have to think of an intriguing RPG scenario to go along with it.

With that done, there was only homework left to do before bed. Just a page of math… but he really didn't want to try crunching numbers. It was getting late and he objected to math on birthdays.

While deciding whether to sit and work on his paper or to get up early and do it in the morning, an itch started to develop between his shoulder blades. The ticklish feeling of being watched crept over him and made him turn, expecting to find… something.

The velvet box he had thrown against the wall, still laying where it had fallen to the floor, was all that met his eyes. He didn't know why, but even with the lid firmly closed, it still seemed to be watching him, waiting.

Telling himself that it was stupid and untidy to just leave it on the floor, and that that was why he couldn't stand to leave it there, Ryou walked to it and picked it up. Even knowing what to expect this time, it was still weird to find a metallic eye staring out at him from the gloomy interior of the box. It took him a minute of staring at the thing before he reached in to touch it again.

The metal was still cold to his fingertips, and smooth. There was an odd quality to it, unlike the metal of his mother's pots and pans, a kind of liquid, buttery feel, like the metal was wet. But it was dry, Ryou rubbed his fingers together to make sure, and they showed no sign of moisture. Maybe it was just a property of the metal.

Could it really be gold? Surely not. His father wouldn't have spent so much for a present for a ten-year-old boy. Did gold even feel… like this thing felt? He didn't know, he'd never had a chance to feel it. He assumed gold felt the same as any other metal. No, this wasn't gold. Probably. Though it was heavy for its size, and he was pretty sure that was one of the properties of gold. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered about the ring. Where had his father found it, what was it supposed to be, did it have some symbolic significance, were there other pieces like this one, what had possessed his father to purchase it in the first place, much less send it to his young son, thousands of miles away?

Ryou picked it up by the empty loop at the top and held it in front of his eyes. The points jangled, cutting the light to ribbons and tossing them to the dark corners of the room. The eye set in the center of the triangle gleamed a flickered, giving the thing an almost sentient appearance.

Ryou blinked, tore his eyes away from the thing. Strange how it almost felt like he was having a staring contest with it.

He put the ring down on the desk and unwound a length of cord from his spool. It wasn't until he had tied the two ends together, forming a loop, and was threading it through the ring's empty top loop that he wondered why.

The answer came as soon as he formed the question: So he could wear it like a necklace, of course. It was best suited as a pendant, wasn't it?

Ryou looked at it, the cut and tied cord already being tugged into place by his hands, which seemed to move with a mind of their own. It must have been a little something left over from working on the figure. A part of him was still functioning on auto. He supposed it did rather look like an ornate pendant. It was better than any other possible purpose he could think of.

There was just enough slack in the cord to slip over his head when he tugged, and the makeshift necklace and its pendant settled into place around his neck.

The ring really was very heavy, and the cord was too thin, it cut into the back of his neck. He looked down, trying to see how it looked on him. It hung right over his sternum, the points descending a little lower, but other than that, it was impossible to tell. Well, Amane's mirror would solve that. Holding the little hand mirror out to see as much of himself as possible, Ryou studied his reflection.

It looked, if he were to judge, absolutely ridiculous. The pendant itself looked nice enough, it just looked ridiculous on him. The pendant was large as well as gaudy, whereas he was relatively small for his age, and not the kind of person who could carry off 'gaudy' very well. Besides, what would a boy be doing wearing something like this? Suichi and Taro rose uncomfortably close in his memory.

He sighed, and moved to put the mirror down. Something in the reflection moved behind him. He whipped around, the ring clattering, his heart suddenly thudding in his ears, eyes darting back and forth, searching.

There was nothing there. But he'd been sure that he'd seen something in Amane's mirror. He looked back into the glass. It was getting dark outside and he hadn't switched his light on yet, so maybe it was just a trick of the shadows. It must have been a trick. Because it had looked, just for a moment, like a face.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all. He chuckled at himself, the sound too loud and forced to his own ears. Trying to convince his heart to slow, the ring clinked. Outside the wind whispered at his window.

Someone touched his hair.

Ryou flipped around, clapping his hands to his head. Again, no one was there and he was left feeling childish, jumping at shadows. Except he knew it couldn't just be his imagination. Someone had brushed their fingers across the back of his hair. Just enough to send a shiver down his spine.

His breath was too fast and harsh. The wind outside gusted, rattling his window in its frame. The ring at his chest jingled. Nothing else made a noise. He strained his ears, trying to catch the smallest of noises, anything to give away the presence of… what? What was he expecting to hear?

He slapped at his own cheek. It had felt like a bug was crawling on him, a spider or an ant. But there was nothing on his hand. The sensation didn't leave, it only spread, creeping over his face, down to his mouth and lips. It felt as though a nest of ants were trying to crawl into his mouth, his nose and ears and back into his hair.

Wiping frantically at his face, Ryou backpedaled until his back hit a wall, trying to get away from the feeling of invading insects, slapping at his own face, hardly registering when the feeling of his hair being touched returned.

He stumbled forward, intending to run from the room and find his mother, to get some kind of help, when he was punched. With an invisible car.

Ryou's world suddenly centered on his chest, which felt like it had been crushed. His lungs refused to draw in air, his heart seemed to have stopped completely.

Ryou looked down at his chest, which for some reason was beginning to ache. He didn't see what the problem was at first. Nothing looked out of place, he couldn't understand why everything felt so wrong? Then the feeling of 'wrong' resolved into sharp, searing pain, and he saw the bright red stains seeping through the fabric of his light blue shirt.

He hadn't noticed at first because he wasn't used to the ring, but something was missing.

All five of the hanging points of the ring were missing. And as the stains spread, he realized that they had ripped through the shirt and plunged deep into his chest.

...

A/N2: For this chapter, and most likely many chapters in the future, I'm working on creating an outright horror feeling. It's a somewhat new challenge for me. I've done plenty of creepy atmospheres, (which varied success rates), but this is the first time trying for outright horror. I'd appreciate any feedback on how that's turning out. Help me improve, folks! :D

Suichi: I usually pick background character names based on their meanings, and this one is no different. It means 'one lord', perfect for a little rabble rouser, don't you think? I picture Suichi becoming a true terror when he gets older. Like if Seto were outright evil and malicious.

Taro: And this name meanings 'plump son; first son'. I'm not sure, but my thought is that in the olden days to be the eldest son meant you were more likely to get the most / best portions of food, so the meanings of plump and first are really interchangeable. How I see it, anyway.

Noriko: I actually didn't look this name up before settling on it. It was one of those that just came naturally. For those interested, Noriko apparently means 'law, order'. …I guess how I could see it fitting anyway. :)

Amane: Amane, for those who don't already know, is not an invention of mine. Ryou having a younger sister is completely canon, as is her name. We're never told how old she is in relation to Ryou, so yes, that's my own detail. For those who do know about her and know what's going to happen to her… yeah, we'll get there. Don't spoil it for everyone else, just in case. Oh, and Amane means 'sound of the Heavens'.

Ryou's Father: So far as I am aware, we never see Ryou's father in canon (manga, not anime), nor do we know his name. But we do know that he is an Egyptologist and works in Egypt at least some of the time.
- Owns a Museum:
I remember finding it mentioned somewhere that the museum where the stone tablet was in the Millennium World arc was actually owed by Ryou's father. Now that I'm trying to find that particular reference I can't find it. If I'm wrong, please let me know and cite a source for me? This detail will stay, regardless, but I'd rather not keep this misapprehension for future fics.

Origin of the Ring: This is one instance where I am using a detail from the anime. In the anime (I don't remember what episode, sorry) we see that Ryou's father found the ring in Egypt at a random stall. There was something about how the ring was sold to him as being related to Duel Monsters and that Ryou's father thought it would be perfect for his son… I'm ignoring the Duel Monsters detail (because it's silly) and keeping the rest of it. It fits in well enough with the rest of the manga canon.

Ryou's Age: Okay… here's where my obsessive nature is going to show through a little. Prepare thyself, it's going to be scary. I wanted Ryou to have the Ring for as long as possible, making him as young as possible and still fit the established canon. In Volume 8, Duel 73 we see that when Pegasus went to Egypt he saw a thief, (in Kul Elna), with the Millennium Ring, who was caught by Shadi and a few other robed people. The thief was taken away to be judged, (and was killed by the Ring), while Pegasus watched. He was of course caught and got the Millennium Eye out of the deal, but he went to Egypt a few months after his wife died, which was seven years before the time in the manga. We're assuming that most of the young heroes are aged sixteen at the beginning of the series, which if true, would put Ryou at about nine when Pegasus was in Egypt and when – as seen – the Ring was still there as well. Giving it a little time for his father to find it and ship it, having it arrive in time for Ryou's tenth birthday seems reasonable. That all make sense?

Of course, all that means that Ryou will have had the Ring for six years by the time he meets up with Yugi and the rest… but then, Yugi will have had the Puzzle for eight. Longer, but then, he won't have had any contact with his item's spirit until the very end of that time. Think it'll make a difference? ;D

Theban Hills: The Theban Hills is an area on the west side of the Nile, opposite of Thebes, and is an area near to Qurna, which is, if everyone remembers, is the real-life village I'm using as reference for Kul Elna.

Zabuton: A zabuton is the Japanese cushion used for sitting. I was just going to use the term 'cushion' for these, but thought that was a little too generic. A zabuton is something very specific, so I'm using the specific term.

Genkan: A genkan is the traditional Japanese entryway where shoes are taken off and traded for house slippers. Yes, you could call it a mudroom… but really, a mudroom doesn't have the same purpose or rules as a genkan. So that term stays as well.

Nii-chan: Mentioned in the prologue why this term was staying, so I'm not repeating the reasoning, but it's an affectionate way of saying 'older brother'.
- No 'imouto-chan'?:
So if I used the term nii-chan for older brother, why haven't I used imouto-chan for younger sister? From what I understand, saying imouto-chan is a very silly way of saying 'little sister', more to be used if you're teasing – like saying little-widdle sister, if I understood it right. So for the affectionate term for Amane, we're just using Amane-chan. :)

Thanks for reading everyone! Not sure when the next chapter will be up, but I'll see you then!