Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Darkness In Light ❯ Chapter 1

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

A small oaken door. Simply a door into an apartment, or a portal into
another world. An apartment building is a living entity made up of
thousands separate stories, of love, betrayal, hatred, and bravery.
But tonight, one story has ended. Open the door.

Ryo Bakura lies up against his couch, eyes closed peacefully. He is
dead now, though it was not long ago that he lived. A boy of medium
build, a mixture of Japanese and British descent. His blue eyes are
closed, but his platinum-white hair, still seeming like untouched
snow. He wears a white outfit intentionally unspoilt by blood, and
around his neck is his curse.

Ryo Bakura lies there, with the television still on, not caring that
no one was watching. His relaxed fingers have a short switchblade
knife laying on them, but it is hard to think of him using it. His
wrists have been cut open methodically, all the blood since spilt out
onto the black carpet.

There is little evidence that the student has lived here for the past
few months. A small table, some empty take-out containers, and a
collection of role-playing games stacked unobtrusively in a corner--
the one thing that had always pleased him, even in his darkest hour.
But they lay untouched, as even they had been perverted by him.

This boy is locked in struggle, a struggle both familiar and foreign
to us. It is with a spirit of long ago, with his prized possession,
with his self. The details are unbelievable, but all that must be
known is that this boy has a demon inside him, a dark side that seeks
to punish and revenge.

It is easy to call them by two names, taking on the boy's own two
names. The good side, the quiet transfer student who couldn't stand
conflict, is Ryo. The bad side, a cruel deceiver who loved to control
those he knew and hated those who controlled him, is Bakura. But even
this is wrong. As all things, he cannot be split into two without
losing the whole--Bakura reflects Ryo, and Ryo reflects Bakura.

Could it be that a complex individual can only become simple by
becoming two. Perhaps this is why Ryo has no shadow, no dark desires,
and why Bakura has no light, no redeeming graces. Maybe before the
demon inside of him became a truth, he was both sides, a positive and
a negative. But for those who can only see things in one light, there
is no Ryo Bakura: there is only Ryo and Bakura.

We do not know any of this, and we never shall. Ryo feared Bakura,
feared what he could do to his friends. For the first time in years,
Ryo had friends, people he cared about, people who knew his secret and
still chose to greet him and play games with him. He could not stand
the thought of them coming to harm because of him-- ultimately, Ryo
did not value himself as much as those he cared for.

And so Ryo Bakura committed suicide and murder with one desperate
frenzy of slashing. His last act was to write a small note, in his
neat cursive, apologizing to his friends and explaining his sacrifice.
He thanks them for their kindness and from saving him once, but that
was not enough. He also apologizes to his family. He does not blame
them for not being there, but encourages them not to care that their
son is dead.

Tomorrow, after school, a boy by the name of Yugi will arrive at this
apartment, wondering why Ryo was not in school today. He shall open
the door, and be horrified. The police shall surround it, do an
investigation, and declare that it was suicide and that the boy
suffered from some sort of psychosis. In three days, he shall be
cremated in a small ceremony. His parents and his sister, Amara,
will be there, and cry, and vow never to forget him, but in a while
they will. Meanwhile, the ring around his neck--the cause of the
demon which was himself--shall vanish in all the commotion, searching
for an unfortunate soul to become the polars of good and evil.

The television still plays, despite the death of it's sole viewer.
The world around him will not pause because of the death of Ryo Bakura.
The unending conflict between light and darkness will not cease
because of a pawn's sacrifice. All that there is left now is the
now-cold body, laying up against the couch undisturbed.