The Return

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

The title is supposed to be plural. There's one sentence that hints at why--points if you find it.
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Ryou dropped the grocery bag on the table and unbuttoned his school jacket. He untangled the milk from the plastic bag and was about to put the carton in the fridge when he remembered that it had to look like he'd been drinking some.

Pouring himself a glass, he sipped it while debating what to do. His father wasn't getting back until that evening, and it wouldn't take more than an hour to cook dinner, so he didn't need to rush. He needed to read that chapter for the quiz in history--ooh, hopefully it hadn't been today, that would make his skipping first period look worse--but even that wouldn't take too long.

He just really wanted a shower. The smell from the warehouse, not to mention the dust, had clung to his hair and clothes all day. He'd gotten really tired of it by lunch.

Setting the glass by the sink with a small stretch, Ryou stowed the milk in the fridge. He left the bag on the table, since the broth wasn't perishable and he'd be using it in a few hours anyway, and went upstairs.

After getting a clean set of clothes and leaving his uniform on the floor to wash later, Ryou cha the the old band-aid he had gotten from the school nurse for a new one, wincing when his cracked nail was exposed to air. Once that was finished, he turned on the shower and started to pull the Ring over his head.

[Leave it.]

Ryou flinched. His hand flexed around the cord, but a moment later he reluctantly let go. The spirit had left the link between them closed all throughout school, something it rarely did; but it came back in the middle of his shopping, and the anger that had been poring out before it cut the link enough that he could barely feel its presence....

Ryou was very,y gry grateful that he had been in a crowed store.

However, though he hadn't felt the spirit's emotions past that first minute, it looked like he hadn't escaped it after all--he'd only gotten a reprieve. For whatever it was he'd done wrong. He'd been trying to figure out what that could have been as he walked home, but he'd soon given up and gone back to focusing on the mundane details of his life in order to ignore the bigger picture.

Jaw clenched tight, Ryou stepped inside the shower and pulled the curtain closed, ducking his head under the warm water so it fell over his face. Some splashed into his nose and mouth, and for a moment he pretended he was drowning. Then he shook his head and reached for the soap.

Fifteen minutes later, there hadn't been another word from the spirit. Maybe it had just wanted him to wash off the Millennium Ring while he was at it.

Ryou sighed at how pathetic his rationalizing was getting and tried to come up with something to take his mind off how tense he was, waiting for it to appear.

Maybe I should get a haircut, he thought as he rubbed the shampoo in. Granted, no one had really bothered him after what had happened to the gym teacher, but it could still be annoying at times. His father had complained once that every time Ryou brushed his hair, he shed: "I don't own a son, I own a big white cat!"

Ryou smiled slightly and rinsed off his hands and hair. Then he rubbed his fingers over his eyes. Ugh, he felt so heavy for some reason. Maybe he should take a nap before starting dinner; he could always read the chapter that night. His father would have jet-lag for the first few days, too, so Ryou wouldn't be distracted with trying to spend time with him. It would work out fine.

His hands slid through his hair, before trailing down his neck and collarbones.

Ryou's eyes widened. It....He jerked around to test if his legs were still under his control, then used his knee to knock the faucet handle to 'cold.'

Ryou yelped and stumbled back at the rapid drop in temperature, and there was a chuckle inside his mind. Then he found himself twisting to the side and reaching beyond the stingingly cold water to turn the handle back to the other side. His hand pushed it past where it had been, changing the water to almost painfully hot. Then he moved forward, and his head tilted back so that some of the water sprayed directly across his throat.

Don't do this, he said quietly.

Why not? came the reply.

Because I hate it.

I know.

If Ryou had had control of his hands, he would have clenched them into fists. He tried to do so anyway, out of reflex. There was another chuckle, and then one of his hands reached out to brace against the wall while the other slid down his stomach to wrap around himself.

Ryou shuddered, though he lacked control of the muscles to show it. Stop it!

Make me, the spirit challenged. The hand sped up slightly, as if trying to echo--or contradict--its order.

Ryou gritted his teeth, even as he had to close his eyes at the growing sensation of pleasure. He couldn't stand this. He could feel that some of it was his other's, but he couldn't judge how much. For all he could tell, he might just be feeding off of the spirit's enjoyment, with nothing he felt truly belonging to himself.

Another chuckle, this one mocking, even as his hands continued to manipulate himself. That would be convenient, now wouldn't it? Then you could pretend that you have nothing to do with this, that it's all my fault.

It is all your fault! I never a...asked for this!

A memory of that first time in the kitchen, his hands on the spirit's shoulders, helping him, was suddenly forced into his mind. Oh, really? it asked.
No!

Then why are you enjoying this? Didn't you say you hated it? When his hand slid down, his thumb rubbed over the tip and his mouth formed a gasp--though which one of them it belonged to, Ryou wasn't certain.

I...it's my body. I should like it.

No it's not, the spirit replied. These aren't your actions. And if you can't control it, then this isn't your body. It's mine, and you just happen to be here as well. You're like a parasite, Bakura; you should be grateful I give you the attention I do. This time as his hand slid up, the nails ran over the seam on the underside. Ryou moaned slightly, and then hated himself for it.

Stop!

I told you, want from him?! Trying to understand his other was like wandering some labyrinthine maze, and he was so lost and he just wanted it to end. What did it want him to do?

Maybe it wanted him to give in again. If he offered....It didn't matter. Anything to get his own body back.

Ryou swallowed and tried to focus his concentration away from the warm feelings rolling up his stomach long enough to get the spirit's attention. Please, stop it. If you'll just separate, you can do anything you want, it's okay. But quit this, please.

There was a growl in his mind, and his hand tightened suddenly, making Ryou gasp. I can already do anything I like.

Then what?! What do you want me to do?

I want you to stop begging, bradaj!

Ryou's breath hitched as the hand bracing against the shower wall pushed away and moved down to cup his balls, beginning to fondle the soft skin there. Ryou shivered again, and this time his muscles responded. Aah, like that....

He came with a sharp, almost pained cry, and stood there on trembling legs for a minute as the shower washed the remnants down the drain. In those few seconds, while the spirit inside him was still lost in its own haze, Ryou clenched his fists so tightly that his hands bled, punishing himself.

Then his other's laconic voice rose up again. Heh, heh....Well, this is much more efficient than separating.

At Ryou's sudden burst of panic, it sneered and continued. And certainly more effective if you start acting unruly again. So take heed.

Ryou stumbled back and sank to the floor, shaking. "You...."

What? the spirit demanded.

I hate you! Ryou screamed at it. God, I hate you so much! You won't leave me with anything! Then he started shaking harder, so badly that it felt like a seizure.

There was a splitting inside his chest, the ripping sensation practically welcome, and then Ryou's head snapped to the side as the spirit backhanded him. The shaking didn't stop, and so the spirit grabbed his chin and forced him to look at it, its hand already raised for another blow.

Ryou just stared, his gaze blank, waiting for the next strike. So long as the spirit was hitting him, it couldn't be inside him, and that was all that mattered.

His other glared for a long moment, and then dropped his hand. He reached out and pulled Ryou against him, the arms that wrapped around his back tense with rage.

"I got stronger," he hissed suddenly. "What's wrong with you?"

Ryou didn't bother to answer--not understanding what it was talking about, as usual--and just rested his chin against thiritirit's shoulder. He shut his eyes to keep the water from spraying into them.

A while later, once Ryou's shaking had mostly subsided, the spirit stood up. It gripped Ryou's arms and pulled him to his feet, then forced him down the hallway to his bedroom. It disappeared once he got inside, and Ryou stumbled over to the bed and shoved the blanket down slightly. He collapsed onto the sheets, not caring as they rap gre grew damp.

He wrenched the Millennium Ring off his neck and threw it at the wall. It flew wide, bouncing on the floor and coming to a stop near his closet door.

Ryou curled up on the sheets, his body heaving with harsh, ugly sobs until he finally fell asleep.


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