I have nothing at all to say to this. Seriously. As stated by a few other contestants, this pairing is so frigging vanilla. XD In any case, this is my contest entry for Round One of the YGO Fanfiction Contest, Season Eight. Our splendiferous hostess Ryou VeRua decided to give us a threesome for the first round, so it's Spiritshipping, Yami no Yuugi / Yuugi Mutou / Anzu Mazaki. So fantastically canon, isn't it? -w- Keep in mind, guys. This fic is pretty weird and is labeled as 'Tragedy' for a reason; character death galore. Oddly enough; the base concept? It was inspired by a flower.

Constructive criticism would be loved, especially from my fellow contestants, considering the competition is so rough…/dies/

This fic handed my ass to me, and I'm really not happy with how it turned out. ._.

Cold light was all I could see for a long, long time.

Actually, that's inaccurate. All I could see was cold blankness. It was like I'd stared into a too-bright hospital light, and could only see the vaguest outline of anything. My vision was dominated by whiteness every second for what felt like months, maybe even years.

And then I went back.

Funnily, when I returned, I had not the faintest idea of where I was. I remember brushing my bangs away from my face, blinking blue eyes a few times, and whispering "Uhhh…" once or twice before I realized I was in my house. I couldn't feel anything after that. It scared me a little, in all honesty, so I went to sleep, under the deluded impression that things would be fine when I woke up the next day.

For the record, you shouldn't ever trick yourself into thinking that, because it hurts ten times worse when you realize the cold reality.

The next morning – now, I bitterly call it 'The After' – I woke up to bright light filtering through my window, and screamed because I was reminded of the harsh white environment. Immediately after, I shut up, clapping my hand over my mouth when I realized that it was just the afternoon light. 'Why didn't mom wake me up?', I remember wondering, because I was certainly late for school.

I went through the typical motions of getting ready for school, not rushing because I was late as it was, and I didn't even think it was odd that my mom hadn't rushed in when I screamed; she would have been at work by then. I grabbed my school uniform and went into the bathroom to take my shower, pushing open the door gently with my left hip and setting my clothes on the sink while I picked up my toothbrush. After I peered into the mirror, though, the brush clattered from my hand with a horrifically final-sounding 'clank' as it hit the porcelain of the sink.

My eyes were empty. That was the first thing I noticed. The normally sparkling, lively blue eyes were completely blank, dead-looking, almost. My mouth fell open in horror as I took in the rest of my appearance; my hair, usually so sleek and smooth, was hanging limply in my face, and that face had a hollow, zombie-like look, my skin sallow and sickly pale under the harsh bathroom lighting.

I screamed again, my hands covering my mouth as tears welled up in my empty eyes. Forcing myself to look away, I stripped down and scrambled hastily into the shower, squeezing my eyes shut against the tears and frantically trying to convince myself that it was just because I hadn't slept or showered in who knew how long. That had distracted me enough for me to wrinkle my nose in disgust; I was filthy.

So I grabbed the shampoo and turned the water on, forcing the handle all the way over on the 'hot' side of the dial. I didn't even wince when scalding water streamed out, focusing on scrubbing the grime out of my hair and sighing as I watched the water drip in little streaks from the brown strands, leaning against the wall of the shower tiredly.

Minutes later - I can never remember how many by this point - I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel securely around myself and cautiously glancing up into the mirror. My hair, though wet, looked ten times better, and my skin had lost some of its sickly pallor, but my eyes were still scarily blank. No emotion shined through at all.

I shook my head quickly, pulling out another towel and hastily drying my hair before I got dressed, leaving the bathroom immediately after. I was still deluding myself, convinced that everything was fine, that nothing was wrong at all and my mind was just playing tricks on me. Of course, I now realize how stupid that was, considering I'd been in a place filled with nothingness for a while and that doesn't just happen without something going wrong. Nevertheless, my delusions kept me going, and if they hadn't I'd never have known what was going on, so I guess in a way I'm grateful.

After I'd gathered up my schoolbag and quickly eaten a granola bar, I set off towards the school, locking the door behind me as I went. I breathed in deeply, loving the fresh air that I hadn't been able to breathe for awhile, smiling slightly and reaching out to gently feel the petals of a soft purple anemone. I couldn't quite remember what the meaning behind the flower was, but it was very pretty, and at the time I was just glad to be seeing it at all. I'm sure, though, that if I remembered what the flower meant, I'd have left it alone.

I left the flower and continued my way to school, occasionally waving to the people I passed. Not a single one waved back, which in itself isn't an odd occurrence, but after I waved at one of my neighbors who I actually knew and talked to, and she didn't wave back, I frowned. It wasn't like her to just ignore anyone, really, but again, I shrugged it off, thinking that maybe she just wasn't feeling well. Yes, a stupid mistake, but if you're going to screw up, you may as well do it thoroughly.

"Poor girl doesn't even realize it." I squeaked in shock when a short little old man with a face like a skull walked by me, bumping me in the shoulder and knocking my bag to the ground. He smiled widely, revealing hideously yellowed teeth, and continued, "Ah, but she will soon!"

"Freak!" I yelled at his retreating back, shivering at the sound of a cackle. I glared at him until he vanished from sight, and then looked down at my feet, frowning pathetically at the mess my bag had made when it hit the ground, the contents having spilled across the sidewalk. "Great, this is exactly what I need right now," I mumbled furiously, sighing and bending down to gather my things.

"Here, Anzu-chan."

I gasped, my head shooting up far too quickly, and breathed a sigh of relief when my eyes met with calm purple ones, wide and shining with kindness. A hissing, angry voice slithered through my mind, reminding me that it was a far cry from my own emotionless appearance, and I forced a smile to repress my shudder, reaching out and gently taking the books from the other's hands. "Thanks, um…?"

The boy, who in a weird sense reminded me of a little kid, winked at me, brushing a stray blonde bang from his face. "Just call me Yuugi, Anzu-chan."

Suspicion crept through my mind and into my voice as I narrowed my eyes at him, standing up and pushing my things back into my schoolbag before taking a step back. "How do you know my name?" I asked accusingly, gripping the strap on my bag so tightly that my knuckles turned white. It struck me that I should have noticed earlier he'd called me by name, but I've been beating myself over the head for a long time, so I skipped over it and held my bag defensively to my chest.

Yuugi smiled softly, his eyes shining with an emotion far too close to sympathy for my liking. "It's my job," He told me soothingly, then gestured to something at my feet. "You forgot something."

Cautiously, I glanced down once, almost unwilling to take my eyes off of the strange boy for any period of time. My instincts were telling me he wasn't a threat at all, but my logic told me that if he knew my name, he was mostly likely more dangerous than his innocent look conveyed. I was surprised to see that he hadn't been lying; a handful of my pencils were scattered over the concrete of the sidewalk, where I must have missed them in my irritation.

Bending over to pick them up, I blinked when a quick, sudden wind whipped my hair in front of my face, looking up to see the faintest glimmer of purple. Awed, I held my hand open, a few soft flower petals landing in my palm. They fluttered around in the now-light breeze, most of them seeming to gravitate toward me in a way that should have been frightening; I was a bit more preoccupied with something else, however.

Yuugi was gone.

I looked around, my head going left and right in a way that must have been comical to any passers-by, thoroughly confused. No matter how many times you get mind-fucked, it usually doesn't make sense for someone to just disappear, under any circumstance. Still, it wasn't like I could've gotten up to find him, and besides that, I had no real reason to, so I peered down at the flower petals curiously, trying to discern which flower they came from.

I froze, remembering the meaning.

They were anemone petals.

Fading hope; you've been forsaken.

We always want what we can't have.

Isn't that right, Anzu?

You're gone, now, but I can't seem to stop talking to you. I know you can't hear me. But I like to pretend that you can, because it makes me feel less alone. What is it like, to be dead, Anzu? Would you be mad at me if I wanted to join you, wherever you are? Heh, you probably would.

It's so hard to be here alive without you. Sure, there's Jounouchi and Honda, but they aren't the same. I feel ostracized, unwanted, almost. If you were still here, I know you wouldn't let me feel that way. Ryou talks to me about it sometimes, and I feel like I have a better chance of relating with him than with others. But Bakura doesn't like me, so I stay away.

So it goes back to what I said before, Anzu. I want you, want you to be here and alive and healthy, smiling at me like you always did, but I can never ever have that again.

Shit. There are teardrops on the paper.

I guess I'd better go now.

Looking back, I really wish I had stayed ignorant. Not of what happened to me, no, but of what I had become. It took me a very long time to come to terms with, as I'm sure you might have guessed. Sometimes I still feel lost.

"Anzu-chan, do you believe in spirits?" Yuugi asked me, his voice light despite the serious gleam in his eye. He smiled reassuringly, so I honestly thought that it was just an offhand question.

Yuugi and I had met up a few more times, and every time he left mysteriously. I'm not sure how he did it, but I would look away for just a moment and he'd be gone when I looked back. Nonetheless, he was overall a very friendly person, if not eccentric. His hair never failed to make me smile with the odd way it stuck up, and his laugh reminded me of happy memories. We got along well, no matter what the circumstances may have been.

I still wish I could have met him in a more normal world.

"Hm," I mumbled thoughtfully, blinking a few times, before I shrugged confusedly. "I guess I do…But it really depends on what you mean by spirits."

Yuugi waved one of his hands in the air, shrugging in a more nonchalant way than I had. "Poltergeists, hauntings. Things like that," He elaborated, taking a drink of his hot chocolate. He had brought me to the same café on the corner of the street by my school for the past week or so since we'd started meeting up, and he always ordered the same thing; hot chocolate with fluffy whipped cream on top. I wondered, from time to time, if it had any significance, but soon enough I dropped it. It was probably just a favorite he didn't get very often.

"Mm, not really," I finally answered, shaking my head and sipping some sweet-smelling hazelnut coffee through my straw. I had a thing for adding honey to my coffee, but I'd never quite understood why. Maybe I just liked the way it made the coffee taste. "I don't doubt that ghosts exist," I specified, seeing his sudden sad look, "I just don't really think there's a very high likelihood that one would be able to interact with objects alone as a poltergeist. If they can interact with objects, why not people?"

"That's just not how it works, Anzu-chan," Yuugi murmured sadly, his hands gripping the hot chocolate cup more tightly as his expression became crestfallen. "There are poltergeists, you see. I've met a few." Something sparked in his eyes, something I couldn't quite place, after he told me that. Yuugi was a mystery to me, in a way. His eyes were wide and filled with emotion; he never wore a mask. But I could not for the life of me figure him out. "Anzu…have you ever heard of a Fumikiri?"

I blinked, thoroughly bewildered. "A level crossing?" I asked, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

"A Fumikiri is a title, Anzu. A title for someone like me," Yuugi continued solemnly, fiddling with his fingers and looking at the falsewood top of the table. "A level crossing. Fumikiri are supposed to help spirits pass on. I'm a Fumikiri, you see, and I really hate it…I always have to give bad news. This time, I have to give it to someone I love."

My eyes widened, tears welling up in them. "You..can't mean that…"

"I'm so, so sorry, Anzu-chan," Yuugi mourned, reaching out and grabbing my hands; tears fell from his eyes and trailed down his cheeks as he continued. "You're dead. You're a poltergeist, and I have to help you pass on, but I don't want to, because then I'll never see you again…and you're so wonderful and I don't know what to do…"

Mazaki Anzu was involved in a tragic event as of Friday, November Sixteenth. Mazaki was attending a friend's birthday party the day of, and left around eleven PM according to her friend's account, when she presumably took a shortcut through an alleyway. Her body was found by a bystander the next morning; the cause of death was ruled to be asphyxiation. Her boyfriend, Yami Atemu, was informed of her death following her parents; reports say he went 'ballistic' and he has recently been committed to a mental institution, where he has reportedly been writing letters to Mazaki and talking to 'Jounouchi, Honda, and Ryou', though there is no one in his room. The murderer of miss Mazaki has not been caught as of yet.

I can't stand living without you, Anzu.

We always want what we can't have.

Hopefully you'll forgive me. This is the last letter I'll write to you.

I loved you. I still do.

-Yami