(If you think you saw this chapter before, no you didn't. This version's much better anyway.)
Trigger Warnings: There is a flashback/panic attack and a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment of suicidal ideation.
A few hours earlier…
"Does it accomplish anything? To pretend that we're separate?" asked the floating figure mimicking his—technically, it was his host's—appearance. Long white hair, pale skin, delicate frame, everything the same except for the colour of its irises. "Or are you deluding yourself as a form of pastime."
The Thief stared into the golden sheen of inhuman eyes. "Fuck off," he growled. The apparition laughed; it echoed around his soul room.
Bakura—because that's what he preferred to call himself—didn't remember how his soul room initially looked, but he knew there had been stars. Now, the space resembled a cavern housing a lake of tar. Stone outcroppings jutted out of the black viscous fluid. It was on one of those outcroppings that Bakura now sat. The tar reached up to about half a meter below his foot. Sometimes the level rose, sometimes it fell, but Bakura never saw the cavern's floor. On a typical, uneventful day, the surface of the tar was calm, disturbed only by the occasional ripple from the things which moved underneath. In the event where Bakura had to crawl his way back from the Shadow Realm, these shapes nipped at his heels and tried to pull him under as if attracted by the dark stench. At this moment—and in the light of his recent imprisonment, the tar boiled.
"No, I don't think I will," said the smug voice. Bakura pinched the bridge of his nose like that could make this all go away. "Anyway, if you actually wanted me gone, I wouldn't have materialized in the first place." It gave a long-suffering sigh. "After all, I am only a figment of your imagination, a delusion bred from aeons of isolation."
"And a bloody fucking poet as well," Bakura grumbled under his breath. He pulled the tattered and faded red cloth of his robe tighter around himself.
The apparition chuckled. It floated down, planting its illusory feet on the surface of the tar lake. "How long do you think you can hold onto that form this time? Half an hour. Ten minutes. Less?" Bakura flipped it the bird. It didn't accomplish anything, but it gave him some measure of satisfaction. The thing continued, "How much of your sense of self even remains? Human souls aren't meant to last this long without some kind of restoration."
Bakura sneered. "Then it's lucky I'm not entirely human." His form flickered, dark brown skin flashing his host's pale hue before returning. He cursed, levelling a death glare at the self-satisfied smirk of his hallucination. It took a few steps forward, the bubbling tar undisturbed beneath its feet. It stopped right in front of the rock where Bakura sat and leaned forward.
"You're trapped." It said with a feral smile. Bakura broke off a piece of rock and threw it. The stone passed through the thing's form, sinking beneath the black surface. It clicked its tongue and shook its head. "How very childish. One would think that you'd have grown out of such behaviour by now." Bakura considered throwing a second rock but that would only prove the thing's point. Though it would feel damn good to actually hit the thing for once.
"What are you doing here?" There, that was slightly more constructive.
It blinked in feigned confusion. "What do you mean? You called me here. I'd assume as a way to distract from your current incarceration— at the hand of your host, nonetheless. Remind me, what did you do to the last person who cut you off from the world? Oh, that's right, you killed him. Right in front of his wards, no less. How brutal." The thing tilted its head. "Are you going to kill Ryou?"
Bakura scoffed. "Of course not. I need him to enact my revenge." An unpleasant sensation squirmed in his gut at the very thought. He dismissed it.
The apparition smiled again, but this one was softer, almost fond. "Too true. His death would be a colossal waste. On this, we agree." It held up a finger. "But something must be done to discourage this type of behaviour in the future."
Bakura narrowed his eyes. "What are you suggesting?"
"Oh, nothing too severe. Physical damage is out of the question; his body is in rough enough shape due to a certain someone's incompetence at maintaining a physical form in their pursuit of petty vengeance. Psychological damage, on the other hand, now that one's fair game." An eerie light reflected in the thing's golden eyes as it leaned closer still, until the two were less than a hand-length apart. "Break him down; build him back up. Bend him to your will." Its point made, the apparition returned to its previous position. "And Thief? Don't get distracted this time." It tapped a long pale finger against its chin. "Though I suppose it's difficult to blame you; he is very pretty." The apparition looked him over one more time, disdain apparent. "Enjoy trying to maintain that form. I would wish you luck, but I really don't care. At the end of the day, you and I are one and the same. It's futile to pretend otherwise." The thing's form liquified, rejoining the rest of the black tar, and Bakura was left to wallow in true isolation.
"Bakura, what are you?"
His host appeared ethereal in the dim light of the Shadow Realm, his white hair falling in waves past his shoulders and eyes reflecting the blue light of the candle's flame. He was cold and spectral and utterly beautiful. Bakura wanted to steal him away from the rest of the world, imprison him in a golden cage, clip his wings so he could never fly away. And that feeling scared the spirit more than anything else, because he could not understand it.
Liquid wax dripped down the sides of the candle, mixing with the surrounding earth. Half their time remained; Bakura needed to focus.
His host had asked what, not who. In a way, this question was easier. There was really only one answer to give. "A Liar and a Thief." *Plunk* A blue marble dropped into his brass bowl. One down, four more to go. He had been lucky last round with the questions his host had asked. He doubted that luck would hold.
His host scrunched his nose in confusion. It was expected, without context, the words meant nothing. "You had best ask your next question, Yadonushi. I can't give any clearer answer than that."
Ryou nodded. His hand were unnaturally still, simply resting in his lap. His frame was completely relaxed, a testament to how out of it he truly was. His host usually carried some tension in his shoulders, regardless of the situation. At this point, most would feel guilty for being the direct cause of such a situation. What a waste of time.
Bakura shifted, bracing an elbow against his knee. "Listen—"
"How do you plan to beat the Pharaoh?" *Plink* Bakura gritted his teeth at the interruption. It wouldn't do to lose his temper again; he needed to remain in control. Besides, it was a fair question, and according to the terms of their deal, Ryou couldn't warn the Pharaoh or his posse anyway. Not without jeopardizing their safety.
"Lure him into a Shadow Game based around our collective memories. Play out history again with a few tweaks in my favour. Then use the Darkness imprisoned in the Millennium Puzzle to defeat him once and for all." Bakura shrugged like the culmination of millennia of vengeance-seeking was no big deal. *Plunk*
Ryou tapped his cheek a few times. His hand stilled. His voice was soft as he asked, "And what happens when you lose?" The skeletal hand dropped another red marble into his host's bowl. *Plink*
If Bakura still had a heartbeat, it would have skipped a beat. He resisted the urge to press his hands to his ears. As if that would help anything, the question was already asked. "Clarify," he said, attempting to keep his voice even. An image from the interior of the shrine at Kul Elna flashed unbidden across his mind.
"Well, following the pattern of every other time you've faced the Pharaoh, I was wondering what will happen when you lose this game too." Ryou's voice was light, as if he didn't know how his words affected Bakura. Maybe he just didn't care. Fair was fair, after all.
Voices from ages past reverberated through Bakura's head. This time he did cover his ears. He pressed his hands in hard enough to cause a sharp stab of pain, but that did nothing to stop the echoes of the past that assaulted his senses.
Alone at the site of his worst memories, surrounded by his enemies and the ghosts of his people. Despair filled him as words he no longer controlled spilt from his lips. His laugh had a crazed edge as he desperately tried to fit the Items into their slots on the tablet. But he didn't have them all; he had failed. Blood splattered across the tablet as he coughed, his lungs seizing in his chest. His Ka was dead; soon, he would be too. His hand found the Millennium Ring—
A hand touched Bakura's arm, and he slapped it away. The former thief stumbled to his feet, his stance unsteady. He grabbed for a knife that no longer existed, hand grasping at clothes that didn't belong to him. His image flickered, but he couldn't materialize his former appearance. A finger wrapped around a lock of hair and pulled. He focused on the pain, trying to ground himself with little success. He still needed to answer Ryou's question.
"If—" He stopped; that didn't match the format of the question. "In the event where I lose," his voice shook, but he pushed through, "then everything I have ever done will have been for nothing." He pushed back the urge to laugh. "A-And the sacrifice of my people will never be avenged." *Plunk*
Bakura finally looked at Ryou, who was also standing. His eyes had lost some of their vacant look. His host's mouth opened, and Bakura knew exactly what his next question would be. He surged forward, clasping his hand over Ryou's mouth, inadvertently toppling them both over. Ryou squeaked in surprise. They landed in a pile of limbs in the soft dirt, but Bakura successfully kept his hold.
"You can't ask that; I can't tell you. You can't know." Bakura felt out of breath, even though he didn't need to breathe. Ryou squirmed for a second but then stilled. Bakura tentatively released his host. Ryou rolled off him and pushed himself into a sitting position. He readjusted himself to face Bakura, who was still lying in the dirt.
"Why not?" *Plink*
Bakura swallowed. "You might remember. You can't remember." *Plunk* Maybe he should try breathing; maybe that would help.
"You aren't making sense, but…" Ryou scooted closer and narrowed his eyes. He pressed a palm to Bakura's sternum, and although Bakura wouldn't say it, he was immensely grateful for the touch. Ryou frowned. "You're doing it wrong. Here, match me." His host began breathing in and out using long, slow breaths. Bakura did his best to mimic the movement, pushing back a creeping sense of humiliation. After a few unsuccessful tries, his breathing evened out. Bakura allowed his chest to still. He placed his hand over Ryou's and gave a hesitant squeeze.
"We're even. We don't have to fight anymore," Ryou declared, his voice firm. "You were right; it's a bad idea." Ryou moved his hand, and immediately Bakura missed the contact. His host lay down beside him and gazed up at the not-stars, their light reflecting in his crimson eyes.
"Use this," whispered a voice at the back of his mind. And they must be very out of sync if he was hearing that thing as a separate entity. He wondered if his… his vision had caused this.
"Flashback. You know enough about PTSD to know what it's called. Don't play dumb, Thief. It doesn't suit you."
What do you want? Unless you want to keep arguing semantics. In that case, you can fuck right off.
Bakura felt a distinct sense of exasperation. "No need to be so hostile. I want what you want: to finish what we started. We're in a delicate situation, and finesse is not one of your strengths."
The thief looked over at his counterpart, who seemed lost in his thoughts. He wanted to reach over and run a hand through his host's hair, but that would probably worsen things. His host was very particular about when he was comfortable being touched. Not that Bakura usually paid it much mind.
Continue what you were saying before.
"All humans have limits, and Ryou is way past his. The desire foremost in his mind is to forget any of this ever happened and return to maintaining the illusion of normalcy. Let him. Only ensure that when his walls go back up, you are already inside them."
And how exactly do I do that? Bakura mentally sneered.
"Right now, you are weak, and he pities you for it. Use it. But first, do as I say…"
Ryou decided that he was done with today. Today had been bad. It had started bad, got worse, got a little bit better, and then got much worse. Bad day. Worst reviews. Zero out of ten stars. What he wanted at this moment was to forget today had ever happened. Or the last few days, really. He should go back to Wednesday; nothing terrible had happened on Wednesday. Nothing good either, really; it had been a bit of a nothing day. Miho had followed him around. Anzu had trounced Jonouchi in Duel Monsters because he was trying to improve his deck but had forgotten to read about half the descriptions for the new cards. Anzu might not prefer tournament play, but she was solid and knew her deck, which was more than could be said for many dualists. Let's see. Otogi was still pretending to be interested in Jonouchi's sister to keep Honda's attention. And Yugi was absent; Ryou didn't remember why. All in all, a pretty decent day.
…Well, no. It had been terribly dull, and Ryou struggled to focus through all his classes, especially the one where the teacher hated him. (And he definitely wasn't thinking about her.) But it was leagues better than today. As had been previously established, today was bad. Did it still count as today if it was after midnight? Did time actually exist in the Shadow Realm, or was it something they brought with them? Why didn't the Shadow Realm affect him the way it did others? He felt fine. Well, not emotionally or physically, but he didn't feel like his soul was being leeched away. Did that make this place more dangerous for him or less? If he fell asleep here, would he just drift away into nothingness? And was that really—
"Do you want to hear a story?" *Plunk* The spirit's voice broke through his thoughts. "That's something that you want: ancient secrets. This is a very old story and not one many people have heard."
"Yes," Ryou answered, because he did, and their game was still active. *Plink* Besides, he would much rather listen to the spirit talk than answer any more of his questions.
The spirit settled back, clasping his hand behind his head. He began to speak.
"There once was an entity." Bakura's voice came out low and distant like he was reciting something from a dream. "It didn't have a name because there was nothing to name it. It embodied opposition and conflict and was always at war within itself. Eventually, this conflict tore it apart, and one turned into two.
"He was called Darkness, and she was called Light, but these names were misleading. Better ones would be Obfuscate and Illuminate. Now disparate entities but still of immense power, they could no longer fight without unravelling reality around them and themselves with it, so they remained at an impasse, a forced truce contrary to their very nature.
"There was a tribe of humans who lived by a river. Their survival depended on the dangerous world around them, and so they listened. They heard the two entities and saw how the world flowed around them but could not understand them. They were only human, after all. The people watched the seasonal flooding of the River, which brought them life and called her Ma'at, ironic since wherever Light touches the earth, it burns. They endured dark times of famine and upheaval and called him Apep. And so the two became their gods, and in becoming gods became more than they were."
"Chaos and order," Ryou stated. Bakura nodded and continued.
"The people worshipped Light, and she loved them. She desired closer ties with their kind and took physical, human form to initiate more… intimate relationships. The blood of the king is the blood of a god, after all. Darkness, they reviled, and he ignored them in return. What use is the opinion of dust to the wind? Still, he watched Light and her humans, primarily out of a sense of boredom, as she taught them the limits of their own souls and how, by combining human will and spirit, they could change the world around them. He watched as they fought mock battles against one another to increase their own skill and understanding, as iron sharpens iron. He watched as they took their sharpened iron to stab each other in the dark. And it amused him. He took to nudging them and observed the effects. As he continued, he saw patterns emerge, though they made little sense to him. But by using his observations, he could take individuals or even groups of humans and turn them to his own will. In this, he saw an opportunity, for his nature remained the same as it had always been. And though Light seemed to have forgotten her own being, he knew that it remained under the surface. If only he could draw it out. So he honed his tools and sent them after her kin.
"She, of course, responded in kind, and they could renew their conflict and fulfil their purpose through human proxies. It was, of course, a pale reflection of their original state, and it had its own set of… complications, but he preferred it to the dreaded half-existence of being alone. So it was, that in this opposition they found a modicum of their former self." The story completed, the spirit was silent.
Ryou took a few moments to let the information settle in his brain. "Ma'at didn't have a cult."
Bakura shrugged. "A bit of creative oversimplification. What do you think of the story as a whole?" *Plunk*
"This Darkness is what's imprisoned in the Millennium Puzzle. You're going to release it… him."
"It is, and I am."
"And you think that's a good idea. To free something so unfeeling, so inhuman."
"It's the only way to get what I want. Besides, the Pharaoh sacrificed his ren to create the prison. When he regains his name, it will unravel. I'm here to help along the process and minimize complications."
"And if the Pharaoh wins, then…"
"A mortal cannot kill a god. You haven't answered my question, Yadonushi."
Ryou traced a finger around the outside ring of his Millennium Item. "It sounds like it doesn't matter what I think."
Bakura hummed, stretching out one of his arms. "I think it does."
Ryou scratched at his neck with his other hand. Honestly, his mind needed time to digest the information before forming a proper opinion. He answered anyway. "I think it sounded sad." *Plink*
"Why?" *Plunk*
Ryou's hand stilled. "I don't know." *Plink* "You're wasting your questions; you're doing it on purpose. I don't understand why."
"I figure you've dealt with enough today. You're saving your last question."
A bit of heat touched Ryou's cheeks. "Yes. I didn't think that you'd noticed." He paused, looking up at the angler lights that lead to certain death. "There's something peaceful about this place. Something quiet."
Bakura snorted. "Not to me, Yadonushi. I can hear every shadow." Ryou's eyes widened slightly.
"I'm curious what they're saying." At the spirit's look of trepidation, he added, "But I won't ask." They sat in silence for a few seconds. Ryou tugged at the leather cord around his neck.
"Are you feeling any better?" Bakura asked. *Plunk* Ryou looked over at him.
"I don't think I'm very connected to my body right now," he answered. Bakura huffed a slight laugh.
"I meant emotionally, Ryou."
"Oh, uh… A little. Everything still feels somewhat detached, and I'm a bit sad, but that never really goes away." Ryou paused. "I'm not mad anymore; I'm tired of being mad. It's a difficult emotion to sustain." *Plink*
"I—" Bakura hesitated, clenching and unclenching his hand. "This was a bad idea. I was… angry. You know what my soul room is like."
Ryou gave the spirit a blank look. "Yes, you threw me in there once. Because I wouldn't do what you wanted."
"Exactly. So you know what it feels like to be trapped in there." Bakura dragged a hand down his face. "Look, landlord, I'm not exactly good at this."
"Emotional intimacy; I noticed. But, uh, for what it's worth…" Ryou took a moment to find the correct words. "I didn't mean to trigger you earlier. I've never seen someone else have a panic attack before; I wouldn't do that to someone on purpose."
"Right." Bakura's hand tensed again, then he laid it palm up in the space between them. "Truce?" *Plunk* At Ryou's look askance, he chuckled. "It's just a hand, Ryou. It doesn't bite."
"So you say," Ryou muttered. Tentatively, he set his hand on top of Bakura's. "Truce," he affirmed. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. *Plink* Bakura adjusted their hands, intertwining their fingers. Ryou's heart rate picked up a notch, but like earlier in his soul room, the contact didn't activate the usual crawling feeling. Bakura tugged at their connected hands, using the leverage to pull Ryou on top of him, and Ryou allowed it. He didn't quite understand why.
Ryou crossed his arms over Bakura's chest and rested his chin on them; he was sleepy. Bakura looked at something past him. "We've got less than a quarter candle left," he said as he settled a hand in Ryou's hair and began to comb through it. Ryou hummed. "This isn't exactly the best place to fall asleep, Yadonushi."
Ryou blinked. "It's your fault for deciding to play a game so late."
Bakura smirked, something Ryou didn't understand shining in his eyes. "Fair enough."
Ryou focused on the feeling of Bakura's hand in his hair. It didn't feel awful. In the background, a single thought repeated over and over in his head until he had to voice it. "I want you to do something."
"What?" *Plunk*
Ryou hesitated, but he was weak, and it wouldn't do any good to start denying it now. "I want you to promise not to leave me." *Plink* Bakura's hand stilled. After a second, it resumed its repetitive motion. "It doesn't have to be true; I just… I just want to hear it."
Bakura's fingers found Ryou's chin, tilting it up so he could meet his eyes. "I will do everything in my power to stay with you. If we are separated, I will do what I can to return to you," the spirit promised. Ryou let out a breath, relief worming its way into his heart. Guilt followed quickly on its tail. Bakura's fingers moved to cup Ryou's cheek. "Don't worry, Ryou. I'm not going anywhere."
Bakura dropped his hand, trailing his fingers down Ryou's cheek. He pushed himself up, and Ryou shifted so he was sitting in Bakura's lap. The spirit wrapped an arm around Ryou's back, running a thumb down Ryou's spine. "We each have one question left," he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. Ryou nodded, chewing at his lip.
Ryou studied Bakura's face: the pale skin, delicate bone structure, and quirked mouth matched his own exactly. The spirit's eyes shined a dark maroon in the low light. A question came to the forefront of his mind, and it was ridiculous, but he needed to know. "Do you love me?" *Plink* The sound of a falling marble echoed throughout the graveyard as Bakura froze beneath him.
The spirit's eyes searched Ryou's face, as if looking for a hint on how to answer. "I don't know," he said finally. "I don't know if I can." *Plunk* Ryou nodded; in a way, this made things easier. Then it was the spirit's turn to ask, "And how do you feel about me, Yadonushi?"
Ryou tried to parse the jumble of feelings that sprang forth at the question. "I, uh, I don't exactly know either. I don't think that I love you." *Plink* The final marble fell into Ryou's bowl; the game could end now. They were almost out of time. "But…" Ryou's hand found Bakura's face, and he dragged a thumb across his cheekbone. Ryou avoided the spirit's eyes, instead looking at his mouth. "I do care about you, I think," he whispered, as if talking louder would disturb the moment. Ryou leaned forward, closing the distance between their lips.
The kiss was soft and slow. Bakura's hand tangled in his hair but didn't pull, and Ryou felt like crying all over again, which was stupid and didn't make sense. Instead, he broke the kiss, and for a second, the host and his spirit breathed in unison. Ryou rested his head on Bakura's sternum, hiding the flush that coloured his face. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that."
For once, the spirit seemed to have run out of words. He cleared his throat. "No, you're good. That was… good." He paused. Ryou lifted his head. "Listen, Ryou—" Ryou pressed a finger to Bakura's lips to hush him. Ryou smiled softly.
"I know. I don't have any illusions about what you are, Bakura. Just… stay with me. Please."
"Okay. I will."
Author's Note:
How the Chiaroscuro AU came to be:
Me: I want more tendershipping cuddles, but Yami Bakura is being too much of a tsundere.
My brain: What if you gave Zorc an actual personality beyond being an evil movie monster? Then you could use parts of him to make a couple of adjustments to Yami Bakura's character.
Me: That sounds unnecessarily complicated. I think I'll just—
My brain: And there could be lore, because large sections of Yugioh's lore make no sense.
Me: I don't think that's really—
My brain: And you could ship him with—
Me: *claps their hands together* Alright, I think that's enough out of you.
I'm proud of this chapter, and it's weird to admit that. But I like it, and hopefully, you did too.
Thank you for your comments on the previous chapter, and thank you for your kudos! It makes me happy to see them.
If you like something specific about this chapter or any of the previous ones, let me know, and I will do my best to replicate it in the future. The epilogue will be here soon!
If you have any questions about this AU or about the story in general, hit me up on Tumblr! (same username) I would love to answer them!
