The Ring

An interlude – how Ryou got his millennium ring back after Tristan threw it into the forest.

Dear child, I also by pleasant streams

Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams;

But though calm and warm the waters wide,

I could not get to the other side.

Ryou…

This is a dream, he said to no one at all. He was standing, somehow standing, on a wide expanse of rock, looking into an even wider sea of trees. A forest that seemed to go on and on forever, straddling the border of the world and that place dreams take us. As he surveyed the forest below, his eyes caught sight of the tiniest glimmer of silvery light.

Ryou…

That voice. He wasn't surprised for he often heard that voice in his dreams. It was the kind of voice mothers warn their children about. It said simply, trust me.

Ryou…

"I'm coming," he told the voice blithely. If this was a dream, as it surely was, there was no reason for him to be scared. He proceeded down the grungy dirt slope with little of his usual caution. As a result, he soon tripped.

Several terrifying moments later he lurched into a tree and came to a dead halt. He wasn't much hurt, except a few bruises and a cold sting in his left arm. It was becoming darker by the minute, so he got up and dusted himself off. Not that it really matters he assured himself, nothing matters in a dream. He swiped the trickle of blood from his forearm impatiently.

You're almost there, Ryou. Can you feel it?

Ryou scoffed at the voice. He felt arrogant, a master of his circumstances. You can't feel in a dream. Yet, there was something to what the voice was saying. He seemed to be standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fling himself into the abyss. He wondered vaguely why his arm still stung, why every bit of him ached with tiredness.

He continued down the slope, grabbing trees awkwardly for support and taking full advantage of his downward momentum to move as quickly as possible now.

It won't be long now, Ryou.

"I know," whispered Ryou, grabbing the next tree by its branches and pulling himself desperately toward it. Not even ten feet away was the source of the tiny light he had seen from above.

Ryou had to exercise tremendous restraint to stop himself from simply jumping toward the light. As quickly as he could, he made his way through the trees to the silvery glow. My ring. His mind garbled and for a few seconds he wasn't sure what he had been expecting to find. "I don't understand," he said looking around. For the first time since he had arrived, if you could call it that, Ryou felt anxious, "Is someone there?"

I am here.

Ryou whipped around and saw the faint shadow of a person sitting on the forest floor, which was mercifully flat, though it couldn't have been comfortable. Upon closer inspection, the figure was a boy who looked very similar to him. Scary similar…and translucent.

"If only you were this brave all the time," said the figure wistfully as Ryou walked boldly toward him, "Seeing you like this, it's like watching a younger, less experienced version of myself."

"You can talk," said Ryou, without any inflection, sitting on the floor in front of the figure.

"Of course I can talk," replied the figure peevishly, "I can do a lot more than that." Ryou reached out swiftly and flicked the figure's arm. Seems solid enough he thought to himself as his fingers hit home with a resounding snap.

"Ow!" said the shadow-boy, raising his arms to prevent future attacks on his person, "On second thought, I like you better when you're…"

"Awake?" interrupted Ryou, "I'm asleep now, but I won't be able to see you when I wake up."

"You seem very sure of that," replied the figure, rubbing his arm absentmindedly, "Has it occurred to you that you can't bleed in dreams?"

Ryou looked down at his forearm, which was still red from where it had been grazed, still bleeding ever so slightly. That's not important. The figure hmm-ed at his non-reaction.

"Why are you here?" asked Ryou, "Did you bring me here in my dream?"

"I thought it was time we met face to face," said the figure, ignoring Ryou's continuing insistence that this was all a dream.

"What do you mean?" asked Ryou, his voice barely audible, "We've never met."

"Not officially," said the figure, smirking in a way that seemed sinister, as though he were laughing at some secretly malicious joke.

"Who are you?" breathed Ryou, staring intently at the shadowy face before him.

"I am Bakura," replied the boy nonchalantly, offering no further explanation.

"Yeah, right." repeated Ryou disdainfully, "This is the strangest dream I've ever had." The figure started to laugh in a manner that was both mocking and eerie. Ryou's arms broke out in gooseflesh at the very sound.

"I'm leaving," he said defiantly, standing abruptly and turning his back on that laughter.

"So soon?"

Before Ryou could react act all the figure was in front of him, blocking his path.

"Y-yes," said Ryou as defiantly as he could, given the circumstances.

"Don't go," said the figure, "Please. I need your help."

"If I help you, will you let me go?" Ryou asked, mentally cursing himself for being so weak, for pleading like a child. The figure had stopped laughing and looked at him with deadly seriousness.

"If you still want to," was all he said. For several seconds they stood, staring eye to eye, neither wanting to yield to the other. "There are a few things you should know," continued the figure, his eyes dropping. He took Ryou's hands and entwined them with his own.

"Tell me," said Ryou brashly, eyeing their entangled hands. This is a dream.

"I have been with you for some time," said the figure, lifting and placing Ryou's wounded arm on his shoulder, "though you may not have realized it."

"I always thought…oh, that tickles," Ryou made to pull away, but the figure's grasp on him was firm. He watched as the figure examined the shallow cut, rubbing the abused flesh gently with the pad of his thumb. He relented. "I could sense…someone else. Besides me."

"Let me show you something?" asked the figure, allowing Ryou to take control of all but one hand, which he kept in his own. Ryou nodded, his mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

The boy led him over to the millennium ring, which was still glowing, but more strongly now. They stood over it in total silence, both of their bodies, unbeknownst to them, imitating the same rigid posture. After a few seconds the figure sighed, as though he had been expecting Ryou to speak.

"I am the spirit of the millennium ring," said the boy, glancing at Ryou with a challenging grin that spoke volumes. Tell me it's not real. Go on.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Ryou flatly. Things aren't supposed to make sense in dreams he reminded himself. Wake up. I'll just go along until I wake up.

"Whatever comes naturally," said the figure, finally relinquishing Ryou's hand and kneeling beside the ring. He looked for a second like he might touch the ring, but couldn't quite bring himself to do so. Ryou sank to his knees beside the spirit and reached out a hand to grab the heavy chain that held the ring. The ring he had worn around his neck for years. The boy seemed to be watching Ryou with baited breath.

Ryou tugged the chain toward himself. It slid along the earth, pulling stray leaves and twigs with it, scraping shallow patterns in the ground. They were so intricate, so perfectly symmetrical. I can't just leave it here. He placed the ring around his neck and adjusted his collar so the cold chain wasn't touching his skin directly.

"Now what?" he asked, turning back to the figure. He was gone. For some reason this scared Ryou more than anything he had seen in the forest that night. The idea of someone, even a ghostly dream figure, melting into nothing was too much for Ryou. He stood up, trembling slightly and looking around as if the boy might be hiding. This is a dream.

Ryou turned to go. This wasn't somewhere he wanted to spend any more time, even if it was just a dream. Or a nightmare. He had the ring, the boy was gone. There was nothing else for him to do here. Suddenly, the trees blurred before him.

I'm going to disappear he thought frantically, hugging his arms as if that could stop his body from vanishing, like the other boy. As he was doing this, his sleeve brushed against the scrape on his other arm and he felt a twinge of pain. Has it occurred to you that you can't bleed in dreams the voice of the figure filled his mind, Has it occurred to you that…

"I'm dreaming," Ryou told himself slowly, as though testing this idea. He pinched his own arm. It hurt. He picked a nearby tree and tore off a random leaf. It felt pliant and damp as it tore between his figers. This is a dream. A dark, mirthless laugh encircled Ryou, trailing down his spine and making him shiver and look for the source. THIS IS A DREAM.

No it isn't.

*The quote above is from a poem A Dream, by the wonderful William Blake

**I hope you like my story I'm not really a professional (could u tell?) but I try!

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