Word Count: 1,260
Archive: DarkMagick.net, Apollymi’s Grimoire, and Archive of Our Own. Anyone else wanting it, please ask first. I’ll probably say yes, but ask first…[endsection]
Five years, seven months, two weeks, and six days…
That was how long it had been since he had last seen his other half. It felt like it had been so much longer, maybe even decades, but no, it had been just over five and a half years. Since then, he had tried everything he could think of to bring his other half back, no matter how evil or dark it might be, no matter how outlandish it may have seemed.
Of course none of it had worked yet. Over five years of trying everything he could think of, easily over a thousand different attempts… There was nothing to show for any of it. Just a few new scars, a growing sense of frustration, and a shrinking stack of ideas. Even if he ran out of ideas, of course, he wasn’t going to give up trying, but he was almost out of things to try… and he was running awfully low on hope.
Well, he did have one more idea that he had to try. Compared to everything else he had tried over the years, since that fateful day long ago in Egypt, this was perhaps a bit mundane. But as with everything else, he was going to give it a try.
A thick hank of white hair already lay in the golden bowl in front of him. That had been the easiest ingredient. Breaking his arm badly enough to acquire a sliver of his own bone had been considerably more difficult, and it was currently throbbing in pain, enough so that he honestly felt like vomiting. So far, he had managed to avoid that, thought it had been close a few times. Admittedly, it had made collecting the next ingredient — tears — a lot easier.
That left one more thing to acquire. Compared to the bone shard, it was a lot easier. It was just a lot more… deliberate. He couldn’t use the same injury he had dealt himself to get the bone, especially since he had to use a specific knife for this task.
Well, it was still easier than breaking his own arm, he thought wearily to himself before making the cut, slow and deep. But no, doing this was definitely just as bad as the break; it only happened to be more measured and more sustained. Blood welled up, bright and red. Thankfully, the sight of his own blood had never bothered him, to say the least.
It was going to be a careful balance, though: enough blood to complete the ritual but not so much that he got too dizzy or lightheaded to go on with it either. It was never a good thing when that happened… and it had, more than once over the past five and a half years.
With a resigned expression on his face, he watched the brightly colored liquid as it slowly fell into the bowl. Just a little bit more… And that should be enough. He’d been sure to cut the same arm that he’d broken, so at least he didn’t have to figure out how to stop the bleed while also dealing with that.
Once he had the bandage wrapped tightly in place, the only thing left to do was light a match and drop it into the bowl, whispering his other half’s name at the same time. If the concoction turned golden, then it would have worked. Otherwise, it was yet another bust to add to his long, long list.
Gold…
It turned gold.
That meant…
That meant…
The lights went out, plunging the room into darkness, darker than it should have been. A quick glance out the window showed lights blinking out all over the city, moving in a wave away from his apartment building.
Lightning flashed, starkly illuminating the room in a brilliant light for a split second. If this were a horror movie, he thought to himself with some level of dark amusement, a monster would appear any second now. Of course, a sudden and out of nowhere appearance was sort of what he was waiting for, and he would accept his other half back just about any way possible, as long as he came back: monster, spirit, human, or something else entirely.
The room lit up once, twice, three times more as lightning continued to strike outside. At this point, he was honestly expecting to see his other half materialize out of thin air into the far corner of the room or something. With each flash of light, he felt a brief pang of disappointment as nothing continued to happen.
Maybe this was going to be a failure after all. Yeah, the potion was still bright gold in color where it wasn’t actively burning, but maybe he had messed up the translation of the ritual itself. Maybe gold was the color he hadn’t wanted it to turn.
One by one, the lights back back on, slowly illuminating the room once more. As he saw how empty it was, he released a tired sigh. Another failure to add to the list then. How disappointing. He had been developing such hopes for this one, and now he was going to have to just clean up the apartment… not to mention getting to the hospital and have someone patch him up yet again.
Given how badly his arm was still throbbing, maybe that hospital visit should come before the cleanup. Yes, it was getting colder outside, but maybe it wasn’t cold enough yet for a coat; he didn’t want to have to think about trying to shrug one on over this damn arm. Even if it was cold, he would just deal, since there was no way he was going to try anything else ambitious tonight.
He slipped on his shoes on and grabbed his keys, before stepping out of his apartment. When he turned his back to lock the door, that was when he heard the voice behind… and it was that voice, that voice he had been waiting years and years to hear.
“What have you done to yourself this time?”
After the earlier disappointment, he wasn’t sure he wanted to turn around, not when there was still the off chance that he might have actually just lost his mind and was hearing things that were not actually there. His grasp of sanity had never been particularly strong, after all.
“After all this, are you seriously ignoring me? Seriously?”
“I’m not.” If his voice was a little shaky… Well, who could really blame him? “I’m not sure you’re real.”
“Since when do you worry about stuff like that?”
And that was a good point. Maybe he was holding his breath, but he slowly turned around.
If he was seeing things, then this was a rather vivid and detailed hallucination. It definitely looked like his other half, just as he had been the last time he’d seen him, back in Egypt during that disastrous final duel against the other Yuugi, against the Pharaoh. He hadn’t changed a bit. He still looked sixteen.
In a way, he still was sixteen, despite the five years, seven months, two weeks, and six days that had passed since his death.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself as much as he could. It took every ounce of… well, everything in him… to look up and meet the dark brown eyes of his other half.
“Welcome home, yadonushi,” he finally stated, and it was like sweet succor and a blissful release all at once.
It was all over. Ryou was back.
[section=Footer Notes]25 March 2016It’s been nearly a year since the last time I finished anything I could post. I can’t even begin to describe how happy this makes me.
Also, as you might be able to tell, I have changed my fanfiction pseudonym, from Apollymi to Adora Addams. I don’t know, but it seems to have helped.
Adora Addams[endsection]