DEF: Well I only recently got back into the Yu-Gi-Oh! fandom and damn am I in deep! Thanks to Rave for getting me back here.
Ravyn: Yeah, she owes me for beta-ing her crap and today is Ryou's birthday. Happy Womb Liberation day Ryou! This will be a series of oneshots showcasing various Mental Disorders, Phobias, Songs occasionally and Shippings. Today's shipping: Tender!
Gabriel: -Le sigh- Neither DEF nor Rave nor Riel own Yu-Gi-Oh!, just the weird stories that emerge whenever they brainstorm about the characters. Also, that which is underlined is spoken between Ryou and the therapist, the italics are Ryou and Bakura talking to each other.
:Hello Ryou, my name is Rin St. Daniels and I am the school's new guidance counselor.
A pale skinned boy with warm chocolate brown eyes took a seat in the rather spacious office. Hands folded neatly in a navy blue clad lap, gaze fixed on his fingers, pure white bangs partially obscuring his face from the woman. This was the third time for the month he'd been here, this was the third counselor he'd been to see, the first was dead and the second had had a nervous breakdown.
:Hello, it's nice to meet you Ms. St. Daniels. If I'm not being rude in asking, why am I here?
Everything about this boy is angelic, his soft cherubic face, his warm brown eyes, so open and trusting, even his voice was quiet and respectful. How was it possible that this boy had scared more than half the school population into silence. What could he have possibly said or done to horrify his schoolmates so badly that they all refused to say anything negative against Ryou Bakura?
:There have been reports of strange behavior, on your part, from your teachers. Nothing bad, just a lack of attention in class, talking to yourself on a regular basis, all perfectly normal for a teenager but according to your teachers, this is unusual behavior for you.
He stiffens for a few seconds before slouching further into the armchair, white hair falling over either shoulder to completely hide that angelic face. They both know the rest, the unspoken end of her revelation, they both know the real reason he's here and it's not for something as petty as inattention in class.
No, Ryou Bakura is sitting in this chair with this therapist because of the dead cat he strung from the school flag pole, not caring who saw him as he slit open its stomach, letting its intestines wave forlornly in the breeze. He's there because he burst out cackling in class and pulled a switch blade on the teacher for daring to tell him to take his seat, for breaking a boy's arm and doing…things to his mind. Things that had made him into a senseless, blubbering mess, among others.
:I'm sorry about all of that, I really am, but I have no control over him.
Oh, that's gotten her attention and all he can do is try to hide himself from her too keen gaze, slump into his chair and let his hair hide his face from her, otherwise she'll see the smile on his face. The soft smile that says 'I know something you don't', like a child with a secret.
He's an interesting case, a specimen, that's all he is to her, to them, anyone. They don't really care about him, all they want to know is how can a straight A, perfectly behaved, 'angelic' student turn into something so demented, so sick, overnight? What could have possibly done this to him? And more importantly, how unique was this, how can we possibly use this to our advantage?
:Him? Who him, Ryou?
He wants to laugh, him, not the other one, the one who's done all the bad things he gets blamed for. This woman really thinks he would tell her anything so freely, someone he's only just met? And here he was thinking therapists were supposed to be smart, oh well, so much for that.
Tell her, Ryou. Tell her everything, break her like we broke the last two.
The whitet freezes in his chair, it's so very rare for the other one to speak to him when there are other people around. He says that he could get in trouble, that people might notice his attention fixed on something that no one else could see. A lopsided grin finds itself on his face and he's glad for his long hair falling across his face, obscuring his true intentions.
Well then, if you're sure.
He sits up straight in his chair, one rosebud lip caught between perfect white teeth, warm chocolate orbs darting from one corner to the next. He glances at the therapist's face and notes curious green eyes watching him intently, eyes like his father's, he hates his father.
:T-the other one. He lives in my head and tells me…things. He's my only friend, my only real friend at least. He gets angry rather easily especially when the others bully me, when they hurt me.
Oh, he's caught her attention now, she's scribbling in her notepad, trying to make it inconspicuous but he's been with enough therapists to know what they're doing. There's a large window behind her and he can make out the words 'DID' and 'Possible Self-Harm.'
His eyes go hard at the label of Self Harm. What the hell was wrong with her? He told her that the other students bullied him, why in God's name would he want any punishment more than that?
:This…'other one', as you put it, does he have a name?
:Of course he has a name, it's Bakura.
He grants himself a slight smirk as she underlines the label DID. Honestly woman, his best subject was Creative Writing, or didn't she know that? Assuming she had his school files, which she probably did. If he really did have a split personality, or a dissociative identity, then he would have at least come up with something a little more original.
Really, using his own last name was so tacky.
:Okay, so this Bakura, tell me about him, how does he treat you?
Ryou might have been the sweeter of the two, the innocent, the 'light' as it were, but even he wanted to strangle the woman sitting in front of him. Dear God woman, didn't he already tell her that Bakura was his only friend. And truly, despite his anger issues, Bakura treated him well, took care of him, protected him from those bullies.
How in the name of all that is holy has she gotten her certificate to become a practicing therapist? Someone out there must have one hell of a sense of humor.
:Bakura is…special. He doesn't talk much but he does a lot of things for me, like get rid of those bullies, he really is quite protective of me. I'm his Yadonushi, and no one else is allowed touch his Yadonushi, just look at what the other boys did to my arms, the ones he put in a coma.
Here he sticks out his arms and pulls up the sleeves so she can get a good look at his brands, hell, anyone who wanted could look at them. There's gauze wrapped around some of the deeper cuts, the ones that Anthony made with a bit of broken glass while Roger held him down. Bakura was so angry after that, didn't say a word before taking over to hunt down the boys.
:Oh my! Ryou, why would you do something like this?
He has to work to suppress the annoyed sigh that wants to escape his throat, well she's obviously new at her job if she can't even keep up the pretense like a professional. What? Hasn't she ever seen a cutter? Not that he is one, but at least have the decency to look it up online before coming to a school and trying to help people. None of his emotions show, however, he's much too good an actor at this point, so instead of contempt, all she sees is horror and disbelief.
:W-What do you mean? How could you even think something like that?
Ah dawning comprehension as she spots her mistake, but it's too late, much too late. For her, for him, for everyone. It was too late the day he first put on the millennium ring. The day his father finally decided he wanted something to do with his family, well thanks so much father dearest. At least you gave me one friend to make up for leaving me alone all this time.
He cringes violently as she reaches for him, fixing a 'deer in the headlights' expression to his face, forcing the tears to pool. He's gotten scarily good at crying over the months, ever since the other had started taking control.
:Sorry, I meant Bakura, why do you let him do this to you?
And now there was a feeling of intense disgust, he was disgusted with this woman who was pretending to she knew best, pretending what he told her didn't sound completely insane. He hated liars, one of the few things Ryou and Bakura had in common.
:You think Bakura did this to me?! Bakura would never lay a finger on me! Sure he sometimes plays a bit rough but he's never hurt me, this was done by Anthony Donavan and Roger Thiery.
He doesn't know where the intense self loathing comes from but it covers him like a tidal wave, sucking him down into its depths, suffocating him. His chest feels so constricted that he can hardly get a decent breath of air.
His mother and sister had died in a car crash while on their way to the airport. His parents had separated and mother and Amane were going to live in America, far away from him. Father, father hated him for his effeminate appearance, so much so that he left him alone, only sending cards for Christmas. The hate, however, was mutual, they blamed both themselves and each other for mother and Amane's death.
If only they could've been better for them. If father had actually given a damn for his family instead of travelling all around the God forsaken world all the time. If he had behaved more like a son, listened to his mother, played more with his sister, maybe mother would've taken him with her as well and he would've died in the car crash with them.
Calm down Yadonushi, did you forget you still have me? Don't let this woman break you, you are far stronger than she could ever be.
A barely there pressure on his shoulder is all the comfort Bakura can give him while someone else is there and it will have to do. He breaths deeply, slowly, starring the therapist dead in the eye as she continues to speak.
:Ryou, listen to me, you're a wonderful, intelligent individual. Never believe anyone who says you aren't, not even yourself. I'm only trying to help you Ryou, you don't have to lie to me because you feel ashamed, I promise this will be kept between you and I.
So she was taking that approach, the 'You are worth it! You're a credit to society and all who disagree can go suck it!' Gods he hated that approach, the first therapist had tried it on him, he hadn't made it home in one piece. Besides, where did the bullies fit into this? Why was did she keep on insisting that he did all of this to himself?
:What about the bullies? What am I supposed to do when they try to hurt me again?
Because it was simple common sense to know they would. Ryou would never be able to measure up to their standards, no matter how hard he tried. The sad part was, he didn't hate them, the bullies, no that was for Bakura to do, he couldn't hate. As Bakura had a fun time reminding him, if he could forgive his father for pushing away his mother and sister, if he could forgive those ignorant children for harming him, then he couldn't hate, it wasn't a part of his personality.
:Ryou, there aren't any bullies.
He nearly topples backwards out of his chair in his haste to get away from the green eyed woman as she reached out to him. He did not like anyone touching him, no one but Bakura could touch him. Cold hands, rough hands, tugging at him, pulling him down, down, down.
In his dreams, thousands of hands would be dragging him down into pits of molten gold, the creation of the millennium items. Their pained screams and hysterical crys would echo in his head long after he'd woken, and sometimes they would be coupled with a sick laughter, laughter that could almost be mistaken for sobs.
Whenever he wakes up from those dreams, Bakura will be there, rusty brown orbs fixed on something he can't see but he lets Ryou hug him from behind. He sometimes even lets him rock him like his mother used to rock him.
:Yes there are! Do you really think I could be that sick?!
He knows he sounds hysterical, and he hopes that it will be enough for her to overlook the slight emphasis he put on the word that. He's sick, he knows he's sick, but how sick has yet to be answered.
:No! I mean, Ryou, from what you've told me about Bakura and these bullies, I think you've developed something known as Dissociative Identity Disorder, DID for short. You have multiple personalities, this Bakura is simply your mind's way of coping with negative emotions.
You lost your mother and sister when you were seven years old and your father is always away on business, you're lonely but also self destructive. However, your mind can't justify harming yourself so you create a situation that makes sense to you. Anthony Donavan and Roger Thiery transferred last week, those cuts are recent, your mind justifying your self-mutilation.
Bakura has a short temper because you have one, Bakura is the you that you suppress. You can't hate your father for leaving you alone and you can't hate your mother and sister for dying so instead you hate yourself. Your mind doesn't understand hating yourself, so Bakura does it for you. Your mind's self defense if you will.
Wow, and his faith in her intelligence is slightly restored, such a concise diagnosis, too bad she was wrong from the get go, especially the part about Bakura hating him. Oh well, he'd had his fun putting on this little act for as long as he'd cared to, he might as well end it here and be done with her. End it before Bakura got mad at him for not following instructions that is, and decided to be particularly messy.
:I'm sorry Ms St. Daniels, I don't think I've been completely honest with you. Can I start over?
And how can she possibly say no? Confused though she be, the transformation from a scared boy, claiming this 'other one' talked to him, was his friend, and protected him from phantom bullies, to this cherry, bright eyed cherub. If this weren't an indication of DID, then nothing else was, at least in her book. Ha, what would she say when she met Bakura?
:If you'd like.
He flashes her a dazzling smile and carefully removes his school jacket, mindful of the various cuts that mar his once flawless arms.
:Hello, my name is Ryou Bakura, a pleasure to meet you. Now I know why I'm here, the cat from the flagpole, breaking all the mirrors in the boy's bathroom, killing a pigeon with a mirror shard, pulling a switchblade on Mr. Willson, breaking Kevin's arm. I would like to take this opportunity to say that I did none of those things, the credit goes entirely to Bakura.
That cat used to keep him up at night, running on the roof and meowing outside our window, he only thought it fitting it be strung from somewhere high up. The mirrors bothered him because whenever he sees my body it makes him miss his old body. The pigeon was annoying him and he had a left over piece of mirror from the washroom, the laughing in class was random, he was just imagining choking the life out of Mr. Willson. As for the bully, Kevin, Bakura is very protective of his Yadonushi.
Oh that's right, you still don't know who he is, well Bakura is a five thousand year old spirit who lives in something called the millennium ring. Although he hurts people which I would never do, I find this completely justified as 1) He's had no one but a bloodthirsty demon to speak with for all the time he's been in the ring, 2) He's trapped inside the thing his family was killed to create, and 3) He's been dumped into a strange time with me for a host.
He is my only friend, has been since Amane and mother died. He talks with me but more than not he just sits with me, holds me, hides me from the rest of the world. Everyone is so mean to me, they don't like me because of my white hair, they think I'm too pale, I'm too effeminate. He understands because when he was alive, he was an outcast as well, he had white hair as well, sometimes he even tells me about his life as the Thief King.
Hmm, I guess you could call it therapy, our own little form of therapy to cope with our messed up lives. Huh, this session has actually been helpful, third time really is the charm I suppose."
He smiles shyly at her, the picture of innocence, but for his eyes, his eyes which had gone cold, darkened until they were nearly black with barely there hints of red. He could see the disbelief in her eyes but he didn't really care whether or not she believed him, it wasn't as though she were going to live long enough to tell anyone.
:Oh Ryou, I'm so sorry, but don't worry. We'll schedule regular visits, we'll work through this, I promise you that I will help you get better.
And then, he wasn't Ryou, she could see the subtle changes, his eyes for one, Gods, no one could miss the eyes. Scenes of bloodshed and widespread war seemed to reflect in those nearly black eyes, as deep and destructive as a black hole, nothing could escape. He smiles evilly at her, his canines pointed to the degree where they almost appeared to be fangs and his hair is so much wilder, as though this person had been living in the jungle all his life.
:Hello Ms. St. Daniels, my name is Bakura.
She was smarter than the rest of them, don't you think Yadonushi, still she was rather stupid.
He smiles shyly, mystified with the way their fingers fit together, all the similarities, well they do share a body after all.
Hey, I'm talking to you.
"I know, but maybe I don't want to talk."
He giggles impishly and throws one leg over the other's hip, straddling him, rubbing their needs together. The sweat has just about dried from their last round but Bakura's ready for round three was it, four, five? Oh what did it matter anyway?
They were inside Bakura's soul room, such a lovely place really, so many glinting surfaces. From the golden floor to the gems scattered on the floor, or the velvet pillows that lay everywhere. The only piece of furniture in the place was a palatial bed, or maybe mattress was a better description, there was no bed frame, just a large, soft mattress. Reams of silk hung down from the ceiling, hiding them from the rest of the room.
He gasps then moans as Bakura pierces him and all coherent thought flies out the window. He's where he belongs, with his darkness, the rest of the world can burn to the ground for all he cares anymore, so long as he's left with Bakura.
There are at least two police cars when he gets to school, it's been two weeks since his meeting with the therapist. Two weeks since Rin St. Daniels had a nervous breakdown where she raved about some white haired demon with black holes for eyes trying to steal her soul, or some such nonsense. She'd been committed in less time than it took to say 'Dark Necrofear'.
He pauses in the courtyard where some of the girls are crying and some of the teachers are trying to get the children to move on but there's no possible way they can hide her. The green eyed therapist, Rin St. Daniels, who's been stuck onto the flag pole, in four different pieces.
It's like a human shish kabob, she's been cut vertically and diagonally, two legs from the mid stomach down and two halves of the torso, one containing her head. He puts his hand to his face to block out the sun and notes that the heart is missing, he'd been wondering about the blood in the bathroom. Her eyes and mouth are sewn shut and there's a black substance leaking out of her chest cavity.
"W-what happened to Ms. St. Daniels?" he whispers, grabbing a teacher's sleeve as he hurries past, it's a pointless question, after all, everyone can see what's happened to her.
"Something horrible, there's writing on the wall of her office, the police are still in there," Mr. Gabriel replied before continuing on to wherever he had to be.
"Poor, poor Ms. St. Daniels, she really had no idea what she was fucking with. Oh well, all we can do is wait for the next one." The whitet sighed to himself and blew a kiss to the dismembered figure on the flagpole, warm chocolate eyes darkening for a split second before returning to their normal shade. The golden ring grew cold against his skin and seemed to want to drag him down but he didn't stop, didn't falter, just continued walking.
DEF: Before anyone asks, Rin St. Daniels is one of my other names, so yeah, I killed myself, messed up. Anyway, I agree with Rave in the sense that Ryou isn't a typical victim, or that he even was a victim. Bakura might not have loved him, he might have been using Ryou for his own means but in the end, he was still Ryou's Yami.
Ravyn: Well, this was supposed to be a showcase of Stockholm Syndrome but turned out to be different. We will get around to doing Stockholm and maybe its reverse of Lima, it all depends if you, the readers, want that.
Gabriel: You're sick, you know that? As stated previously, none of us here under the rock, in the hole, in the cave next to Atlantis own any of the stuff mentioned. If you liked this, and I'll be shocked if anyone does, please review.