Author's Note: Welcome to the epilogue: where nothing is solved, and more problems are introduced. :P


Ryou knew obsession, knew the need for everything to be in its correct place. He knew the feeling of one thought echoing in his mind until it consumed everything else. Knew what it was like to look into his kitchen cupboards and see how wrong everything was, to know that he needed to make it right. Never mind that there was no perfect configuration, and all he managed to do was make it so he could never find anything in his own living space.

All this to say that the afternoon after the question game with Bakura—he'd slept through most of the morning—as Ryou looked over the notebook page where he had written down every detail of the spirit's answers, Ryou knew that he had missed something. That something was out of place. There were two answers unaccounted for, and it bothered him. He hadn't gone through that emotionally taxing experience to lose some of his hard-won knowledge.

Ryou closed the notebook with more strength than was necessary and pushed it away. A collection of notebooks, several encyclopedias, and various loose papers engulfed his workbench. He had relocated his crafting supplies to the floor for the time being. For some reason, he didn't feel like working on his figurines. A hot cuppa sat at his elbow, and a quick sip helped to soothe both his nerves and his sore throat. His ill-advised evening excursion to the docks had resulted in several new symptoms to accompany his old ones. He doubted he would be back at school until the day after tomorrow at the earliest. Still, that gave him more time to work on his mystery.

Ryou picked up the Millennium Ring from where he had hung it on the back of his chair and held it in his hands. The smooth metal warmed beneath his touch. The spirit was resting, or at least that's what Ryou thought. He had kept his word last night as they had transitioned back to the real world, and Ryou had almost collapsed again. The spirit remained with him until Ryou woke the next morning—this morning—and then vanished back into the Ring. Ryou had learned that the spirit remained in Ryou's soul room when he was in possession of the Ring, which was… a thing. Those certainly were emotions he was feeling.

Ryou had a bad habit of acting in the moment and then puzzling out the reasoning behind his actions later. As someone with an unusual mental processing system, he either had to be ready for situations ahead of time or ascertain the meaning surrounding circumstances afterwards. Too often, he went with the latter. Last night he had made several decisions in emotional moments that he now questioned the validity of. Two, in particular, came to mind.

First, he had pushed Bakura hard enough to trigger a panic attack. He'd asked a question designed to draw metaphorical blood and succeeded. His mother had always said that he had a knack for getting to the heart of an issue; in this case, that had been true. He had never seen the spirit look so vulnerable as in that moment, even if Ryou could tell he was trying to hide it. And the worst part was that it felt good! To get even, to retaliate. To prove he had some modicum of power. After all, he hadn't done anything the spirit hadn't done to him first.

But Ryou was supposed to be better than the spirit; he was one of the good guys. Someone who tried to make up for the spirit's evil by being nice and good and correct. He wasn't meant to stoop down to the spirit's level; that wasn't who he was. It wasn't who he wanted to be. Ryou searched through his pile of paraphernalia for one of his notebooks, the one entitled "Emotional Issues and Moral Quandaries", and scribbled down a few words on his current thought process. He would have to revisit this later.

The second action in question was one of a much more… delicate nature. Ryou rubbed at his forehead. Why!? Why did he kiss Bakura? Why, specifically, did he kiss Bakura? It wouldn't have surprised him if Bakura—who chose to be affectionate at the oddest of times—had tried to kiss him. He wouldn't have liked it, but it made much more sense than the alternative. Was he so emotionally broken that he clung to literally the closest person available? The person who caused most of his problems in the first place!

Ryou stood and began to pace the length of his room, no longer content to sit still. And kissing Bakura was nice! Why was it nice? Why had touching Bakura made him feel better? At that moment, he had felt connected to someone for the first time in a long time, and that wouldn't be so bad if that someone wasn't Bakura. Did he like Bakura? Could he like someone? Results on that front were inconclusive.

And it wasn't something like the fact that Bakura was another boy and kind of undead that bothered him; it was that Bakura was awful. Ryou stared into the scar tissue that made up the centre of his left hand. He sat at the edge of his bed, collapsing back onto his quilt, and realised he had no idea what to do. Kicking his feet off the end of the bed, Ryou concentrated on the feeling of movement and let his mind go blank.


*Bzzt... Bzzt…Bzzt*

Ryou's phone buzzed. He scrunched his nose. Who was calling him? His father had called two weeks ago, so it wasn't him, and all his school friends texted if they needed something. Ryou pushed himself off his bed and returned to his desk, lifting up an encyclopedia opened to a page on Wiccan dualism. Underneath, his phone vibrated innocently. The number was Marik's. Ryou picked up the phone and hesitantly brought it to his ear.

"H-Hello. This is Ryou Bakura," he answered. Silence and then a voice.

"...So you're the host." The voice on the other end sounded low and gravelly, a tad monotone. A chill travelled down Ryou's spine. It definitely wasn't Marik's higher exaggerated tone. For some reason, the cool voice brought to mind a lion licking its paw in front of an antelope, "I could kill you, but I'm just not hungry."

Ryou hit the end call button before he had fully processed the action. He almost dropped his phone but successfully regained his hold, clutching it to his chest. Ryou picked up the Millennium Ring—which had fallen on the floor at some point—and slipped it around his neck. He set his phone on his bed where it would wallow in time out until he was ready to deal with it, and grabbed his tea, the hot cup warming his hand. He took a sip.

Nope, that was it; he was done.

Ryou left his room, closing the door quietly behind him. He would watch some telly and have a nap. Everything and everyone else could wait.


A young girl stood in a museum devoid of life, facing a stone tablet protected by a thick sheet of glass. Golden jewellery contrasted her pale skin and ornamented her long brown hair. An ankh, the Egyptian symbol of life, adorned the front of her dress. Coal-black eyes shined with an impish light.

"Have you learned your lesson yet?" The girl pressed her hand to the glass over the triangular image of her other half's prison. Her fingers sunk in as it glowed molten beneath her touch. She took a step back, clasping her hands behind her, and leaned forward.

"I'm sorry to keep you imprisoned so long, Beloved, but you should have known better than to overstep. The physical world belongs to me." The girl giggled, a waterfall of sound filling the empty room. She spun around and summoned a golden cube to her hand. Light flashed, and she vanished, leaving behind nothing but echoes and cooling glass.


AN: The posting of this epilogue marks a momentous occasion. This is the first time I've ever finished a multi-chapter fic! Yay! If you want to see future works in this series, check me out on AO3. I mostly just posted this fic here for old-time's sake.

Curious about this AU? Just want to chat about Yugioh? Hit me up on Tumblr, where I am under the same username.