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Well, it had finally happened.
Years of errant sleeping schedules, bizarre eating habits, and irregular exercise had finally caught up to him. Though, surprisingly, it wasn't any of those things that did him in... It was a random car accident.
But, regardless of how it happened, the day had finally come.
At 46 years of age (give or take another 216 days, 5 hours, 27 minutes, and 48 seconds), Ryou Bakura died, his life cut short by a failing brake.
Thrown from his existence on the earthly plane, the white haired man found himself floating through a seemingly endless white space. If he looked to his left or to his right, the exact same landscape filled his vision: nothing for as far as his eyes could see.
“Oh!” he exclaimed to himself, tilting his head and touching his chin (hmm, stubble... he forgot to shave this morning) perplexedly. “This isn't what I expected the afterlife to be like at all!”
Idly, he wondered who would attend his funeral. He worked as a history professor, so the college he worked for was sure to hold some sort of memorial service for him. Perhaps some coworkers would show up, or his students might have something good to say about him. While they hadn't spoken in awhile, he still kept in touch with both Anzu and Otogi, so he thought they might come, and perhaps they would bring around some of the others, to visit his grave later if nothing else... Yugi wouldn't be there, having already gone, but some of the others might. Jounouchi and Honda and Shizuka... What was Marik up to these days? It had been awhile since the last time he'd asked.
But whoever showed, he hoped they wouldn't force their spouses or children attend his visitation, though; attending the funeral of someone you never met would just be awkward, but turning the opportunity down would be considered rude, so...
His mental rambling was interrupted by the whiteness around him fading away, allowing shapes and colors to fade. Gravity came back, and Ryou landed hard on his back on the floor, pain shooting through his body.
“I shouldn't be able to feel pain! I'm dead!”
His cries went unanswered and, slowly, he sat up and began to look around at his surroundings.
He was in a bedroom of some sort. Upon further examination, he realized that it was his bedroom, the room where he had grown up in his parent's house. It was the room he had always associated with the word 'home.'
Looking around, he could various objects around the room. Pieces of his life, for lack of a better term. Beloved toys and books from his childhood peeked out from under the bed, and a poster of different models of airplanes from his middle school years hung from the wall, and the ceiling fan was adorned with the glow-in-the-dark stickers of stars, planets, and space rockets that Mother had put up there when he was born. Duel Monster cards were scattered across a study desk in the corner, while playing dice and Monster World figures were set up prominently on a shelf, symbolizing parts of his teen years; a spirit board on the floor and a detailed sketch he'd made once of the Millennium Ring rounded out the rest.
There were many more recent additions as well – the textbook he'd written on the history of Egypt, the calendar from his kitchen marking his time until retirement, the suit he wore to job interviews... It was like this room was made from the pieces of his mind.
“... It's my soul room,” he realized, pulling out words he hadn't heard or thought about since his days as Ring Bearer. He'd never actually seen his soul room before (he and the Spirit of the Ring had never gotten into a habit of meeting face to face like Yugi had with the Pharaoh) and it was fascinating to see how much of himself fit so neatly into a single room.
A collection of framed photos hung on the wall, like a collage of everyone Ryou cared about. He saw many images of himself at various ages, as well as pictures of his family when they were alive ( running through the sprinklers with Amane, going grocery shopping with Mother, going to a dig with Father ) and images of his friends ( playing Monster World with Yugi and the others, pulling pranks on Jounouchi, attempting a date with Otogi only to be hounded by fangirls ).
In the midst of all of it was a picture that made his stomach flip. It had been decades since he'd felt the presence of the Spirit of the Ring, and he'd never seen his face, but... he knew that had to be him. The white hair, the scarred face, the angry expression... It couldn't be anyone else.
Ryou didn't know what was more alarming: the fact that, apparently, he and the Spirit had looked uncomfortably similar at some stage in their lives, or the fact that, now that he'd seen it, he found the Spirit's face to be unsettlingly attractive.
Shaking his head of those thoughts, he turned back to a photo of himself from when he was in his mid-twenties. With the ponytail and reading glasses he wore at the time, along with his fuller frame and the slight tan he'd developed from spending time in Egypt, Ryou thought he'd never looked better. He'd looked healthy at the time, and he looked pretty happy in the picture.
Ryou remembered that summer. He and Yugi had gone to spend some time in Egypt, studying abroad. It was really an excuse to face their haunted pasts and finally lay some ghosts to rest. They'd spent the summer talking with Marik, driving recklessly through the desert sand dunes, drinking themselves sick, and listening to loud, angry music through their headphones. It short, it was both the best and worst summer of Ryou's adult life, and the pictures that Anzu had taken of them when they got home showed a version of Ryou who had never felt freer.
“Hmmm...” Ryou looked down his hands, starting to weather with age, and the paunch he'd gained around his waist. “If I'm dead, then I shouldn't have a fixed physical appearance, should I?”
Focusing on the picture, Ryou willed his body to change form. And, sure enough, it did. His healthy, tanned skin came back, as did his slim frame. His hair pulled itself into a full, sleek ponytail that ran almost to his waist, and his clothing was replaced with his mid-twenties wardrobe.
Satisfied, Ryou smiled to himself. His smile fell when the image of the Spirit caught his eye again.
“Even in this body, I'm still older than you ever lived to be, aren't I?” Not older by much, but... It was still jarring to realize.
Turning, Ryou approached the door that was on one of his soul room walls. Curiously, he turned the knob, threw it open, and stepped outside.
***
Ryou met up with his family again. A bittersweet meeting, but ultimately a happy one.
His mother and sister were just as he'd remembered them ( young and full of life and smiles ) and Father was as he had been when Ryou was a child ( during the peak of Father's career ). A perfect little image of a family, all taken long before their time.
There were tears and hugs and kisses when they saw him. Mother wanted to know why he was here so soon, and only seemed slightly disappointed to learn that he'd never married or had children. Father was proud to learn about Ryou's career and the book he'd written. Amane was excited to spend time with the brother she barely remembered, and made Ryou promise to play lots of games with her.
He learned that the three of them spent most of their time together here – Mother and Father had many years of marriage to catch up on, after all, and Amane was still a little girl who couldn't stray far from her parents. But, being an adult and being accustomed to being alone, Ryou was glad that they didn't seem to expect the same from him.
Still, it felt wonderful to be with his family again, and he spent a long, happy time with them, playing games and reading books and just talking.
***
Time moved differently in the afterlife, so Ryou didn't know for sure how long he'd been there before he started looking around for the man who'd haunted so much of his early life.
He'd found Yugi by pure accident at one point, the game king looking exactly as he had during their summer in Egypt. The two had taken one look at each other and shared a knowing chuckle, recognizing how much that summer had meant to both of them.
Yugi's eyes shone like stars, and he'd taken Ryou up to the throne room of the sun, where Atem was, the Pharaoh's hair and eyes all blazing like flames. The two kings had followed the tradition of Atem's people, and had become gods after their deaths. The realization intrigued Ryou.
The three of them had reminisced for awhile, drinking wine and playing board games. Ryou didn't have to ask about Yugi's choice to take his own life on his 30 th birthday... Just seeing the loving and attached way Yugi looked at Atem and Atem looked back at him was enough. Theirs was a powerful bond, and it seemed that one couldn't live without the other.
Ryou spent a lot of time with his two friends, though not as much time as he'd spent with his family, but he finally decided it was time to move on. So, turning to Atem, he asked where he might try looking for a specific thief with a scarred face, and Atem gave him directions for where to find him.
***
'He looks exactly like the picture,' Ryou realized as he approached the thief.
The young, white haired man sat cross-legged on a rock, peeling an onion. There was no one and nothing in any direction that Ryou could see, meaning that, were he to approach, he would be all alone with the thief.
Before he could take another step closer, the thief looked up, chewing on the bite he'd taken from the onion. His eyes landed on Ryou, and Ryou could see them widen with recognition. He swallowed the onion bite prematurely, and began to choke.
Concerned, Ryou closed the space between them, hitting the thief hard on the back to dislodge the obstruction. “Are you alright?!”
When the thief was breathing properly again, he began to laugh. It was a cold, cruel, evil sound, and it reminded Ryou strangely of a carpenter's nail inside a garbage disposal.
“It stands to reason that the first thing you did when you saw me would be to hit me,” the thief said with a sneer. “But as part of a useless effort to save my life?!”
Ryou almost pouted. “You're welcome.”
He sat in silence beside the thief for a time. He had no idea how much time passed while they sat there, just staring at each other.
He broke the silence, finally. “Is this what you looked like when you died?”
The thief shrugged. “More or less. I don't remember being this short, or this skinny, but... it's been a few centuries. Guess I'm bound to forget a few things.” He looked Ryou over. “You?”
“Oh, no... I was 46 when I died. I was hit by a car. But...” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “This is what I looked like when I was 26, so I decided to look like this.”
The thief nodded, chewing his onion thoughtfully. “It looks... good? You look good, I mean?”
“Ah, thanks...?”
They fell quiet again, neither one quite knowing what to say.
It was the thief who broke the silence this time. “Have you been to see the Royal Idiot yet?”
“Atem? Yeah, I saw him. We spoke for awhile. Yugi, too.” When the thief cast him a questioning look, Ryou added “Yugi died years ago. He took his own life on his birthday.”
“... Why would he do that?”
“He couldn't stand being away from Atem any longer.”
The thief let out a strange bark of laughter. “You're kidding me!”
“No, I'm not.” Ryou thought back to how... at peace Yugi's face had looked when they found his body, and he had seen that same look on Yugi's face when Ryou was watching him play senet with Atem. He shrugged. “They're two halves of the same whole... and they're in love.”
The thief frowned. “... Is that like a whole new level of narcissism?”
Ryou smiled, amused. “I suppose so. But they're happy, and I think that's all that matters at this point.”
The thief chuckled a bit as they both fell silent again. This time, the quiet wasn't so awkward. It felt good to finally have a civil conversation with each other, and Ryou couldn't help but think about all the years they wasted by not speaking to one another.
The two white haired men made eye contact with one another, the wind ruffling their hair slightly, with almost half a meter of distance between them.
Ryou didn't know which one of them made the first move, but suddenly they were kissing. The kiss was quick, ending just as soon as it began, and left both men staring at each other with wide, startled eyes.
They had kissed ...
… And it had felt like the more natural thing in the world.
“I never found anyone,” Ryou stammered out. “I never met anyone that seemed right for me.”
“A pretty guy like you never found a lover?” The thief's eyes narrowed. “I find that hard to believe.”
“They never seemed right,” the Japanese man repeated. He frowned, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip. “It was just... You were the only thing I knew for so much of my youth. Whenever I went looking for a lover, and I always ended up comparing them to you for some reason or another.”
The thief looked at him incredulously. “... You're an idiot then.”
Ryou shrugged. “Again, you were all I knew.”
“You didn't even know me!” The thief gripped Ryou's shoulders roughly, giving him a shake. “You knew me as Zorc, as the evil demon that lived in your head! You knew me as the evil spirit who threatened to kill your friends! The monster that hurt you, and gave you injuries in return for using your body!”
Ryou took the thief's wrists in his hands ( gods, they were skinny! ) and gently pulled the thief's hands away from his shoulders. He gazed steadily at the thief who sat across from him.
“I knew that!” he spat out. “But still... You were my other half! Like it or not, you and I are two parts of a single soul, and it hurt like hell when you were sent to the afterlife!”
His own eyes narrowed, and he could feel the sting of tears threatening them. “I mean, my god! You killed children in front of me! And still... there wasn't a day that went by when I didn't feel like something was missing, just because you were gone.”
That was it. That was the secret he'd kept for all these past years, afraid to speak the words aloud, afraid to admit them to anyone, even to himself.
He swallowed. He wanted to look away, to look anywhere but at the man in front of him, but he forced himself to continue. “You're part of me, and I'm part of you. Hell, there's a picture of you in my soul room for god's sake! I don't know what else that's supposed to mean.”
The thief gazed at him for a moment, a sad sort of smile tugging at his lips.
“There's an image of you in my soul room, too,” the thief admitted. His eyes closed, and he sighed heavily, hot breath moving his messy bangs. “What do you want from me, Ryou?”
Ryou couldn't ever remember the Spirit calling him by name, but he quashed that thought for now. He wasn't talking to the Spirit of the Ring – he was talking to the man who was what remained of the Spirit.
“I want to understand you.” He took the thief's hand in his own, twisting their fingers together. The thief held on fast, as though afraid to let go, and Ryou gave him a comforting squeeze.” I want to get to know you, starting at the beginning.”
The thief gave him a bemused sort of look. “You do know that's going to take a long time, right?”
Ryou's lips quirked into an almost smile. “And why not? We have eternity stretched out before us... All we have is time.”
He lay his head against the thief's shoulder, and he could feel the Egyptian relaxing underneath him.
“... Alright.” The thief thought for a moment, and then began his story. “My name is Bakura...”