(KAI) Thoth - Pronounced 'Taught' (tot).
I wrote chapter 20 quaking with excitement... at 21, I grew antsy.
I'm cheering you on, Ryou.
You're really coming into your own.

Who I Am
21

A moment passed, like a grain of sand in an impossibly constricted hourglass. Ryou blinked, once, and felt Malik's soul settle into place in the same breath he felt the weight inside him lift and disperse, like vapor, or the smoke of Kashmir incense. A small sound brought his attention into focus, sharply, and down.

"V-Vah..." startled violet eyes watched him, trusting but terrified.

Ryou loosed his fingers, almost all at once, and found them to be tingling and curled, hard to flex and almost numb. Across the pinpricks of red, where the needle-sharp daggers had bit into Malik's flesh, there were deep cerise and lavender marks across the tan of the boy's neck. Quickly, Ryou moved off, and Malik immediately turned on his side and coughed, violently.

Underneath the pounding in his ears, Ryou could still hear Malik's plaintive and painful hacks, "Vah, vah," he repeated, shaking.

He was dazed. Ryou looked with unseeing ayes all around; the stretch of sand, all around them, closing in beneath waves of hot air. The back of his neck was starting to burn. He wavered on his feet, unthinking for a moment. Who am I? What does that even mean?

"What just happened?" he asked softly, facing no-one. What am I? That's the real question.

Bakura eased himself toward Ryou, watching warily the way the slight boy turned jerkily, particularly a bit left of the direction they'd been traveling. Before he could lay hands on him, Ryou darted a bit, eyes wide. "There's a priest; I can't remember his name. I don't know his name. No. His name is Seto. No, Seth. Damn!"

Bakura reeled, glancing at Rashid questioningly. Isis met his gaze; both of the older members of their team were hovering over Malik, who was wheezing and staring into space. The former spirit frowned deeply; it seemed like every time he turned around, someone was falling apart, weak and preposterously. Ryou was stumbling away, still mumbling, and the other followed him, as quietly as he could.

I think he's in shock. I don't quite understand why... and I want to know what the hell that force was.

"Who's Seto?" Ryou whirled, eyeing Bakura with brown eyes dotted with sharp, deep-colored pupils, "Do we know a Seto?" Ryou bit his thumb, running the other shaking hand through his mussed and dusty hair. "Who's 'we'? Ha, okay..."

Yami watched the hysteric oracle weave across the sand a ways away and clung to Yugi so hard that the boy gasped, breathless. "Yami, are you all right?"

"I'm worried."

"You're always worried," Yugi said pointedly and relaxed against the chest that had been pressed against him enough for him to fairly well forget where he ended and Yami began.

The other was staring at Malik, who currently was making his way into Rashid's lap, clinging to his neck and crying. "Shouldn't I be?"

"I hope Ryou can fix him. Or... heal him. Or something," Yugi stuttered out, flinching from the image, somewhat ashamed.

The arms went tighter, "I hope so, as well."

It had taken a few minutes, but Rashid had gotten Malik to talking, however difficult it was to understand. Isis was patting the boy's back, alternately rubbing and reaching up to pet his hair. Her eyes welled, but the tears did not fall.

"Are you all right, sweetie?" her hands trailed through locks that had never been soft.

"I h-hurt," Malik whispered, clutching the end of Rashid's hair in one shaking hand, "Everything is- it's cold. I feel empty, clean..."

Rashid was staring at Isis, who was staring at Malik until she caught the older man's eyes. "Is he?"

"I don't know," Rashid closed his eyes, trying to feel, trying to know. It didn't always work; now was one of those times. Malik only shuddered a few more times and went limp in his arms, head tucked against him.

"Rashid-vah..."

Isis winced.

Ryou was tottering over, eyes bloodshot, but a warm brown color that didn't make Isis' heart skip beats. In tow, was Bakura, whose eyes were narrow, and whose mouth was set in frustration. "It means Beloved, doesn't it? Malik?"

The pale-haired boy dropped to his knees, and as he did, one knee of his jeans split in one frayed smile. He didn't seem to notice, nor did his eyes flicker to Bakura, was was wearily settling beside him, occasionally watching Yami and Yugi with unrestrained jealousy. They had gathered the camels together, and were now talking quietly, absentmindedly holding hands.

Malik was nodding, and Bakura let his attention wander back. "That's what it means, right? Beloved, my beloved. I can remember- no, it hasn't happened yet."

Ryou let out a strangled giggle, grabbing Malik's hand, "I feel so lightheaded, you know? Remembering something that hasn't happened yet. Maybe it's not me who's remembering."

Malik nodded numbly, idly toying with Rashid's loose sleeve. "I see."

"Yes, you ..." Ryou blinked several times before whispering, "You were there."

Bakura stiffened at the look Malik shot his Hikari, but leaned in to listen, resisting the urge to reach over and touch the smaller boy. Anywhere- the shoulder, knee, hip... I miss you.

Ryou's eyes were shut tightly, "Because... Ishtar was a fragment of you. But before he hid in you, he was a priest... and that priest... what happened to him? Something... a soul split apart? Ow!"

Bakura grabbed out before thinking of his hand, or its shooting out to grasp Ryou's shoulder. From that shoulder, Ryou's hand was clasped to his forehead, where his brow furrowed beneath a colossal pain and worry. "Yadonushi? What's wrong?"

"Gods- I'm surrounded by gods, and- and we're heading for them," Ryou hissed, leaning into the touch despite his the misgiving he held firmly in his mind. "I was wrong about everything. The books, the robes... we never needed them."

Bakura peered at him, frowning and wondering if Ryou had, in some fashion, meandered off the deep end. "Hikari?"

"I'm so tired," he moaned, and Malik tugged his hand.

"There's one more," the violet eyes that stared at him were consumed by a tiny fire, almost lost in the shallow pale of lavender.

Rashid sighed deeply, "Ishtar-nah."

"Ishtar-nah," Malik repeated softly.

"One more we never needed?" Bakura asked, rather lost.

"One more we were wrong about," Ryou said, his hand slipping down to fall in his lap.