He turned in response, slow as always, to see the four of them.

"Hey!" Joey called again, smiling. "Wanna walk home with us?"

A little smile in return. "No, thank you,"

"Eh...?" Joey blinked, looking confused. Bakura didn't blame him. It must seem confusing, he thought, to have shared such an adventure on Duelist Kingdom with them, and then apparently want hardly anything to do with them. I hope they don't consider me rude. Yami Bakura detected this small flicker of thought and smiled, though not with Bakura's lips. He listened to his host go through the mantra: I have my reasons, after all. But sometimes...usually...it's not enough. Especially now.

They all bid him good-bye and left, starting up a conversation after they had moved a short distance. Tristan said something that made Joey get him into a headlock. But they still looked a trifle sad, which excited Yami Bakura. It wasn't just them being sad that was good; it was that it might make his host feel guilt.

As a thief, it was good to know your victim; how he thought, what he would do. Yami Bakura knew Bakura quite well; even now, when he was operating on a level Bakura was unaware of, Yami Bakura knew what his host was feeling, though he did mentally "check" to be certain.

I ought to be used to it by now, Bakura had thought, but it's getting harder to convince myself that keeping him away from others is more important. It is as if I've become aware of an emptiness that I'd thought conquered, after seeing the strong bond Yuugi has with his friends, and sharing a little of that.

Before Duelist Kingdom Bakura had been merely an acquaintance to the four, but something had changed. Yami Bakura had played an active, though unrealized role in forming this bond, but the strings had been easy to pull. Bakura had been nearly empty of friendship and love for a long time, and thus Bakura's desire to stay with the group throughout Duelist Kingdom, and his growing interest in strengthening his friendship with Tristan, Téa, Yuugi, and Joey, was equally attributable to Bakura's own wishes.

Bakura understood he could pick up where Duelist Kingdom had left them. He could start only with a wish for companionship, and rely on instincts atrophied but functional to guide him. But making that first step was agonizing for Bakura, the idea of it worrying. The danger to Yuugi and the others, and his own ignorance of Yami Bakura's exact plans was an obstacle Bakura usually felt he was to weak to overcome.

Whatever Bakura's choice, Yami Bakura knew he'd get what he wanted in the end; he always did. But he waited with the patience of a Nile crocodile waiting for its prey, hoping that the agony of Bakura's choice would eventually snap the boy in two.

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Ryou Bakura began to walk away from the school, wandering as usual. As he often had lately, he wondered if he would ever have to stop being vigilant, if he could rest. The idea that he could never be free lurked at the edges of his consciousness, but he never confronted it fully, an action Bakura attributed to cowardice. Instead, Bakura had kept moving, dragging himself forward and living off respites that he usually feared were false. The questions were coming again, old friends that never left. How much am I really in control? Can I hold him back at all? Bakura often believe it is possession of autonomy, even if only on the mental level, that kept him sane.

Why is that? Really, what are you worth on your own? You are a coward, afraid to accept friendship from the few who would give it to you, a weakling who cannot accept his destiny with stoicism, instead mewling and whining about it.

Bakura found a good place to sit, watching the sun go down. He unbuttoned the front of his uniform and pulled out the Ring, turning it to look at it, watching it gleam and listening to the spikes jangle. There was one thing to be grateful for: things weren't like the beginning, when his angst and pain was nothing short of raging, and Bakura was perpetually near to tears, or perhaps madness. It was not just Yami Bakura's promises and presence; Bakura had felt like a failure. He'd always tried to be good, to be nice and never complain. It was a powerful desire that had held him, tightly but not painfully, since he was very young. A part of him believed he was a traitor, too, because his father had thought he was doing something nice for Bakura by giving him a present, but the gift had brought him nothing but pain.

The same questions, again and again. It must be tiring and dull, like running endlessly in circles. So tell me, why do you not rest? Yami Bakura knew why, and his tone changed into the one he used with everyone else, the ranting megalomaniac. You can do nothing. I will have all the Items, by any means--

Bakura ignored the spirit's ramblings; he'd heard them all before. Yet I wish he'd talk to me like that always. It would be far easier to stand against than the pretending, the mind games.

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Yami Bakura felt through Bakura, though without the pain, as someone grabbed the Ring's cord and yanked backwards, slamming it into Bakura's throat. The sound of a switchblade being drawn followed that. "Just give me your jewellery and no one gets hurt," whispers a gruff voice behind him.

Oh, this is interesting, said Yami Bakura to his host. Look what you have, old friend: an opportunity to free yourself from your pain. He knew Bakura hated being teased like this, because if the Ring was stolen, buried, or discarded it would always reappear with him. Bakura often dreamed of the five spikes waving, as if in greeting.

Bakura seemed to be one of those folk who attracted bullies and thieves, mused Yami Bakura. When Yami Bakura saw his host in a mirror, he always saw a frail, doleful boy, and he believed people liked to pick on the weak. Yami Bakura had dealt with them, usually approaching matters with the anger of one whose precious possession had been vandalized. He'd erased Bakura's memory every time, but he didn't have to.

"Come on, Kid," he said, irritated. "Or you're gonna lose a lot more than your necklace."

Bakura's assailant was young, and Yami Bakura could see by his mannerisms that he was scared, and reluctant to use his weapon. It was all for show, which annoyed Yami Bakura. He was a pathetic excuse for a thief, even a neophyte thief.

The Ring-spirit felt, as the thief began to saw through the cord, anger rising in his host. Bakura had discovered to his chagrin that part of him didn't want to lose the Ring. Yami Bakura knew this wasn't totally attributable to his own manipulations, which was pleasing. Struggling, Bakura was temporarily released, but only so the thief could slam his knee into Bakura's back. As he crashed painfully to the hard ground, Bakura clutched the sides of the Ring tighter.

Oh, why don't you let me out and let me take care of this, hmm?, Yami Bakura whispered to his host, in a tone of false cajoling.

With old, useless emotions, Bakura told him that as long as he was alive, he would not surrender to him. It was an old speech.

Bakura was pulled up by his hair, and fists crashed into his face, again and again.Yet the boy's fingers seemed affixed to the Ring. "You don't want it....It will only give you...." whispered Bakura, in desperation. "Please...it was from my father...."

Pain exploded in Bakura's chest as he was punched there. Yami Bakura guessed the thief only remained because he was angry, that his clumsy, novice theft had gone so badly. He was still afraid of his own weapon, but his fists were doing a fine job on their own.

Yami Bakura was growning agitated. Bakura always resisted in situations like this, which made control more difficult. Give in, he said.

No.

Or you die.

No.

Is this what you want? To end everything, all experience and feeling, to be nothing but a part of darkness? A void is the only thing that awaits you.

Maybe you'll die.

You're crazed in your pain. I have survived for thousands of years. If you go, there will be no one to keep me in check. Perhaps...I will end up with a host that will enjoy my company more. What do you think?

Bakura knew Yami Bakura wanted him to live. It would be easier to steal from Yuugi that way. Nonetheless, the Ring-spirit's ideas fuelled Bakura's tenacity.

Looking afraid and desperate, the assailant lowered his blade towards Bakura's hands.

Yami Bakura was close to anger now. He had two choices: have his vessel damaged, or extend the effort to take over. It was not a difficult choice, but he wished he didn't have to make it. ENOUGH! he snarled in Bakura's head. Yami Bakura gathered all his mental reserves and tore apart his host's barriers and defenses. The pain was immediate, but he bore it, coming to the surface and securing control.

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Bakura felt a rushing sensation, as if he was being sucked into a tunnel. Everything flashed black for a moment, but then he was in the dungeon, which his mind always used to tell him that Yami Bakura was in control. When he emerged from behind those bars, he would lose memory in an instant.

Through their eyes Bakura watched Yami Bakura swing their arm upward, knocking the blade out of the thief's hand. They rose with deliberate slowness, chuckling. Bakura could see now that his assailant looked quite afraid. Not for the first time, Bakura wondered what others saw in his eyes when Yami Bakura was in full control. He felt Yami Bakura lick some of the blood from their battered face. "Now look what you've done," the Ring-spirit said with mock annoyance. "You've hurt me. There are penalties for that, you know."

Bakura silently pleaded for his assailant to run.

Yami Bakura reached into their pocket for their deck and began to play with it. This time you'll watch, he told his host. "Ah, here were are." He selected a card and flipped it over. Chain Energy. The name was whispered and the thief was ensnared in golden bands. Yami Bakura drew again. Bakura could feel them smile, and could imagine their face pulling into a frenzied, predatory grin. Let him go, let him go, let him go, please, please, please. He…they had been getting new cards lately. Bakura had felt mildly unnerved by how they had started to phase out his earlier, motley deck, though somehow he'd managed to hold onto his favorites from Duelist Kingdom.

A faint clanking began in the distance. The noise came closer, and Bakura could make out footsteps. A Headless Knight, as real as the buildings around him, strode forward from the shadows. Obeying some unspoken command from Yami Bakura, the Duel Monster raised his heavy sword, as Bakura no longer pleaded but screamed from his prison. The body of Bakura's attacker split bloodlessly before he could scream. The halves collapsed apart and Bakura could see everything. He did not register Yami Bakura selecting a Morphing Jar, and the beast inside the Jar gulping down the remains with a delighted squeal. What he did comprehend was Yami Bakura's voice telling him, I'm leaving you this memory as a present, Bakura. Enjoy it. With that, Bakura was pushed back in control. He was briefly able to do what he'd been doing in his mind, before unconsciousness bore him away.

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Back in the lower aspects of Bakura's self, Yami Bakura was content and pleased with himself. The effort of pushing Bakura completely away had been gruelling; it was a thing to be done rarely, only in the path of the strongest active resistance. Usually he surprised Bakura, the hold unbreakable only after the fact. In this case, the pain only went one way. Bakura could feel pain dealt to his body, but couldn't sense any mental pain Yami Bakura experienced. Therefore, hoped Yami Bakura, his host would come to believe Yami Bakura could do that whenever he wished.

It had been a risky gamble, but a little trauma to weaken Bakura's resolve and fray his nerves had much value. However, Yami Bakura was disappointed that Bakura wasn't able to carry on a mental discussion. He would have liked to tell his host that he had protected him, that Bakura would have died without him. It wasn't exactly true, but perhaps the idea could bear fruit in the mind of one who already feared he was a weak failure.

He pulled some different strings, making his host believe he had it left in him to wake, rise, and walk home.

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Bakura's recollection of getting home was a collection of fragments that didn't quite fit. What Yami Bakura had done to his assailant, however, was quite fresh. The outward signs of his terror were under control, but the incident replayed every time he closed his eyes.

Mental and physical exhaustion demanded sleep, but his fear of seeing it happen again made Bakura fight to stay awake, even as the effort drained him. Bakura could feel himself preparing to shut down, and it brought a feeling of complete failure. I couldn't hold him back. He was deceiving me all this time, only pretending that I had at least some choice, some power. How could I have been such a fool? His thoughts became a rockslide of self-hate and pessimism. It was all for nothing, everything I ever tried. It was never enough...I was never good enough. I lost. Then: If I have no control, why should I continue to be the martyr? If he can emerge at any time, strike whenever he wishes, could I not pretend he didn't exist? An impulse rose up inside Bakura, surprising in its swift intensity. He would tend his wounds, clean his dirty school uniform without drawing too much attention, and rest for a few days. There would be questions, of course. Bakura couldn't tell the whole truth, but it should be easy to concoct a reason why the thief hadn't carried out his task. Perhaps Bakura had ran. Once the matter had been forgotten, and Bakura had settled back into school, he would start to speak to Yuugi and his friends more. Slowly his story would come out: not too much at once, but more. The time spent in this apartment, so often empty, would reduce. And when Yami Bakura came as he inevitably would, perhaps Bakura could find some greater strength to resist him, now that he had a body of loving friends to support him. These events appeared in his mind with sharp clarity.

Bakura slept.

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Yami Bakura hadn't expected the boy to twist the situation to his personal advantage like that. Yuugi could never come to know much more than he already did, but knowing that Yami Bakura was still around...well, that was a problem, wasn't it? ?However, it would be easy enough to put out this small fire, but the Ring-sprit decided to wait for his vessel to heal, to be soothed.

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Bakura rose with great care. The pain of last night had fully awakened, and every step made him wince. In the bathroom, Bakura saw his silver hair was a ragged tangle, blood and dirt stained his school uniform, and bruises malformed his face, but nothing was broken. That was good news in bad; he could take care of this himself, quietly. Some medication, then more sleep.

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Bakura lost track of time, perhaps on purpose, since he hated to miss school. The apartment's call bell and the telephone woke him from a light, irregular sleep several times, but he lay still until whoever-it-was went away, too tired to care. Besides, it wasn't time yet.

One night, Bakura still felt like he had some sleep left in him, but he was awake and healed enough that the buzz of the call button was becoming aggravating. It eventually stopped, yet Bakura found he couldn't drift off.

"Bakura?" Yuugi's voice, concerned, from the other side of the door. This made Bakura get up, so fast that his vision was clouded for a moment. Unknown to him, Yami Bakura awoke, too, for now a passive spectator through Bakura's eyes. As he opened the door, Bakura felt Yami Bakura's hunger stir in him at the sight of the Puzzle hanging around Yuugi's neck.

Yuugi was holding papers in one hand, presumably Bakura's homework. The two Millennium Item holders watched each other in silence for a moment, and then Yuugi said, "I brought your homework, Bakura. I'm sorry if I woke you up, but when I called here before, there was no answer." Bakura didn't say anything, and Yuugi quickly added, "You've missed a lot of school. We were all worried...." He trailed off, looking as if he wanted to ask him something but the question would be unpleasant. "Are you okay? I mean, I wondered if it was...."

Suddenly Bakura knew. Yuugi was suspicious of the Ring's disposal. Bakura could still feel its presence around his neck, but knew if he looked, it wouldn't be visible. Bakura's decision was swift, his thoughts fast and refusing to dwell on the impossibility of such a choice. He would tell Yuugi, right now. He would let his friend in and tell it all. That Yami Bakura was still a danger, that the Ring was right here, that the Millennium Eye was safely hidden in the apartment, that Yami Bakura had killed someone, perhaps others, that he had been fighting a mental battle for so long. It would be a long tale, and wouldn't be finished here, but it would eventually be done. Bakura usually would have hated himself for wanting such a thing, but now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

"Yuugi, I'm

fine, really. Well, not entirely fine, that is. I was attacked by somone who tried to steal from me, and threatened me with a knife. I ran, but I fell and it hurt...." A reflective pause. "But I'm feeling much better now, and should be ready to return to school in a few more days. I...I'm very sorry that I made you all worry."

Yuugi brightened, but something still clouded his expression. "That's okay, Bakura. I'm glad you're all right, and I hope you'll be doing better soon."

Yami Bakura smiled back. "I'm sure I will be. Thank you for the homework, Yuugi."

"No problem. I'll see you later, Bakura."

"Yes, thank you."

With that, Yuugi left. Inside himself, Bakura lay sprawled on the floor of the dungeon, bewildered and hurt. He'd been ready to share with Yuugi, but, without missing a beat, Yami Bakura had shunted him away. Moreover, he'd played as Bakura, by all appearances fooling Yuugi completely. He stood up, gripping the bars. For a moment Bakura was a player in one of the fantasy games he used to love. He had a magic bag of tricks somewhere, and the guards would be easy enough to take down. And then....

Then Bakura scooted backwards when his own face appeared before him, close enough to touch. "Y...you! What did you do?" Bakura already knew the answer, but he blurted out the question nonetheless.

"What I always do: take control. I couldn't have you confessing everything to Yuugi and spoil my plans, after all. Oh, I know it would have been a great release for you, but some things are more important." Then he dropped the façade of politeness and cackled, loud and long. "You little fool," Yami Bakura continued after this. "Did you honestly think I'd let you do that? How much longer before you realize the truth, that you are mine? For as long as it takes to reach my goals, you are my property, my host." Bakura was stunned, and gradually, he began to see the full scope of what had happened. Whatever brief, flaring hope had seized him had died as quickly as it was born. Yami Bakura killed it, thought Bakura with the black hate he reserved only for his alter ego. He made me feel it, and then destroyed it. Yet somehow, Bakura could not wholly believe that. The passing burst of optimism, his images of the future, all seemed too real to be manufactured, even by an ancient evil spirit.

Did I, now? My powers don't extend that far, my eternal vessel. However, I did hear once that a candle burns brightest just before it extinguishes. Perhaps that is what you experienced. The last gasp of your hope. No matter how hard you tried to push me back, I took control. This has happened before. In the intelligent mind, denial can only go on for so long.

Bakura lashed back mentally, pulling his own rage and hate from the small, dark place inside him that he normally tried his best to avoid...except when it came to Yami Bakura. He did hear his other self cry out, and Bakura could hear in that sound the beast that Yami Bakura truly was, despite his clever manipulations and mind games. Yet what good does this do? I cannot exorcise him, any more than I can command my heart to stop. He could feel the anger being crushed again, under the weight of inevitability.

Something in me is dying.

Frantic, Bakura tried to banish that thought before it was formed, but another one came.

I'm so tired when can I rest haven't I suffered enough?

You ought to rest. You deserve it. Don't worry; I shall take care of everything.

Bakura went back to his bed and still for a long time.

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Time passed. One day he sat up cross-legged on his bed, alert and full of energy. Those feelings were joined by delight, which grew as he set to his task. As he proceeded, the sound of tearing regularly intruded on the apartment's quiet. Some of them were useful, of course, but he felt he deserved to indulge. Furthermore, a good Duelist could fill the gaps in his deck with new cards. And Duel Monsters was a changing game; a move that was taken for granted could be obsolete tomorrow, or the next month. Or sometime. Take this into account, and the symbolic value of this deed outweighed the practical value.

He savored the last. It was torn slowly, so as to halve the card the way the creature on it was. Then, turning his wrists out quickly, he discarded the pieces of the Change of Heart, so they could join the rest of Bakura's old cards. He saw that the dark half had landed rightside up, and seemed to look at him. Yami Bakura smiled, an expression that showed his teeth.

"Sleep well, old friend. I might need you again someday."