Title: Aswad

Summery: Shounan - Ai references. When trapped in a golden trinket, the mind is enough to keep one is the imagination that is the enemy, as well as the darkness that stains all.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh belongs to its creators and its creators alone. I am only simply writing a fictional story based on the characters and events written and created by Japanese cartoonists and scriptwriters. I own nothing.

Note: This is my own rendition of what it would have been like for Bakura. He is not in the shadow realm, but his soul is trapped inside of the Millennium Ring. Also, the Document Manager hates me and never lets me make my stories the way I want them to look, so this editing job causes the story to look squished together and rather disorganized.

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… Darkness.

... Always darkness.

Sometimes it felt as though the darkness spoke to him, though most of the time it felt as though the darkness was mocking him with its silence, whispering itself over his skin and in front of his eyes, snickering maliciously at the fact that he could do nothing but watch as it ran amok over his body, feather-light touches giving him the sensation that he was not alone, though it was hard to forget that he was, indeed, just that. Alone.

Being in the darkness gave him time to think. Too much time, in his own opinion. His thoughts were not something that should be dwelled upon, and in fact, were the type of things that should be glanced at and disposed of in a matter of a few pointless seconds. Violent thoughts of blood and steel invaded his thoughts most of his dark, shadowy existence, though occasionally they were pushed aside by thoughts of lust, long, lingering fights among the sheets involving every tool necessary for brutal, violent lovemaking.

His thoughts were dark and akin to his obscure surroundings, and often involved persons from his past, a past he wished he could return to. His deficient life as a tomb robber was a more than a few steps forward from this ebony wasteland.

He felt his face twitch into a smirk as he recalled a few of his recent, or non-recent, fantasies. Himself and the Pharaoh, the blasted, soulless creature that had locked him into this fate, had been intimately sharing themselves in the Pharaoh's private throne-room, with the Pharaoh on top. He growled as he remembered that picture. The famous tomb robber, known to be ruthless and forever unbending to the will of another, cast as the begging, recessive bitch. How dare his mind stoop to such a level! And to the PHARAOH, no less!

In'al yomak . . .

He closed his eyes and pictured the scene once more, smirking as the Pharaoh's pleasure-filled face came into his view. It was a pity, he could not remember what said Pharaoh had looked like, so this illustrious, prominent man he was picturing could not be the real Pharaoh, simply a figment of his overactive mind, but he was not one to complain. In fact, the vision of himself, in which he had seen begging the Pharaoh to quicken in loud gasps and un-suppressed moans, was not what he himself had looked like back in Egypt either.

What had he looked like? He wondered vaguely, toying with his features in his mind. Had he been muscular? Had he been strong? He decided no, he had not been ridiculously strong, considering his profession as a tomb raider. He would have had to be lithe, built for speed and agility, with feet made for smooth, quiet steps. He supposed he would be thin, so as he could hide quickly and easily, but tall, with legs long enough to run with adequate speed. He smiled slightly. Had he been beautiful? Or was he one of simple, peasant-like looks? Did people stop in the street and stare as he passed, their eyes lit up in wonderment at his grace and beauty? Or did they grimace and look away, pain etched across their own dull, dirty features, silent sympathy for him growing inside their already full consciences?

He supposed he would have to wait and see, as he had been waiting for the past … he couldn't even remember. Days seemed like eternities here, not that he even fathomed when a day came and went. Only in the absence of light, was it realized how much he had needed it to carry on. As a tomb robber, he had known that when Ra's sun disappeared behind the horizon of the desert, it was his chance to strike, but when its amber trace of daylight began to stain the beautiful black skies it was his time to retreat back into the darkness of his hideout to wait another night.

Laitohom ragado. . .

His face darkened as he remembered his first few …whatever one would call it when time passed in this dank, shadowy realm. He had once been afraid of the obscurity of darkness; always scared it would hurt and disfigure him. His opinions were deeply scarred now, intensely moved and changed. Before, he wanted nothing more then to rip the darkness to shreds with his bare hands, and stab it so much that the black bled more black, and keep stabbing it until he found a simple thread of light in the dark.

Now he was more realistic, and he realized that it was not the dark he was afraid of … no, it had been the light. The burning, the stabbing, and the undeniable essence that was light … needless to say, it scared him. The bright, blinding essence and the simple illumination of his soul ... it caused him to see himself as what he truly was, a person he wished he was not, a person he longed he could escape. This illumination, cursed in all of its majesty and safety to others, helped him realize his flaws, flaws he had hidden from himself and protected for so long.

He'd rather hide in the shadows and pretend that he was perfect, pretend his flaws did not exist, whichever sense they may be from. The light showed his true being, and in that light he was evil and cruel, something to be spit upon and denied of happiness.

So he waited, in his darkness, loving yet loathing the sultry shadows as they danced around his frame, choosing not to tick off the days before some lonely, unfortunate soul would find the Millennium Ring and be foolish enough to slip it on their neck. It seemed that individuals were becoming smarter, as it seemed to have been quite a long time since he had been sealed into this object.

Kos okht ile nafadak . . .

How long had it been? At least one hundred years, he supposed, but it felt like so much longer. However, time usually does seem to crawl more slowly when you are alone, and in darkness, your only pastime is staring at the swirls of different shades of darkness that drifted around your consciousness from time to time.

He knew that if he put his mind to it, he could use the power of this object to create a suitable habitat for himself in this dark hell, but he had decided against that the moment he had been sealed. His stubborn form would sit and remain in the disgusting, filthy blackness in whence he first experienced this hell. He just hoped that someone was stupid enough to put on the ring soon; though a suitable habitat was not needed; he felt he was beginning to quarrel with the shadows.

The shadows gave him images, images of his past, events he didn't remember and people he couldn't recognize. He himself did not even remember his name. It had been too long. What had they called him in Egypt? What was the Pharaoh's name? Where had he lived? He had been a tomb robber, he knew that … but that was about all he could remember...

He drew his knees up to his chest, looking down at his hand, but his eyes only seeing darkness. The shadows had already overcome him, very quickly in fact. He had been in this wretched object for what seemed like a relatively short period of time when they advanced, and now he was in darkness, so pitch black that he could not see his own body, and often had trouble feeling it as well.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, indulging himself with the shadow-made images on the back of his eyelids. His thoughts were always dark now, but with good reason. He couldn't remember what color looked like, or what each color was called. He remembered white, but could not picture said color in his mind. Perhaps he had white in his mind, and just did not know what to name it? What had colors looked like? Had he taken advantage of them so much while he was alive that he missed them so much now?

Bala ya khumak Pharaoh. . .

He had wondered more than once if he wasn't really trapped inside of a ring, as the pharaoh had chanted, and instead was dead, trapped in hell, as he knew it. Perhaps he was being punished for all of his wrongdoings, all of his sins that he had committed as a tomb robber.

He didn't recall meeting Anubis, as was said happened after an individual died. Was his heart and intentions weighed on the legendary scale, and he had simply not been aware? He cursed himself for not paying attention. What if he had failed simply due to his own stupidity? What if he had failed because he was not paying attention?! He mentally smacked himself, wondering if he was going mad.

His thoughts were interrupted as he felt a strange feeling run through his body. In the darkness, he had always had a stinging sensation on his body, one he could not remember the name for … and now … now that this new feeling was coming over him, he could put his finger on what it was. The darkness was cold, startlingly so, and this new sensation was that of warmth, something he hadn't felt in what he acknowledged to be forever.

His eyes struggled with themselves to open, and as they did so, he was blinded by the one thing he had been cowering from his whole existence.

A blinding white light.

Allah Yela'an Pharaoh Yu-Gi-Oh.

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Allah Yela'an Pharaoh Yu-Gi-Oh.

In'al yomak. - Curse the day you were born.

Laitohom ragado. – I wish your parents had slept that night (the night you were conceived).

Kos okht ile nafadak. – Fuck he who brought you to this life.

Bala ya khumak Pharaoh. – May the worst become of you (Literally: May you get swept up by a catastrophe).

Allah Yela'an Pharaoh YuGiOh. – May Allah (the Lord) curse you, Pharoh YuGiOh

Aswad (The title of the story) - Black