Summary: With the Ring destroyed, its true nature is finally revealed. Ryou is left to deal with the painful consequences. Post-series one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh. If I did, Bakura would have had much, much more screentime.

A/N: Here is yet another theory of mine put into one-shot form.

Darkness in the Mirror

When he looks in the mirror, he is no longer sure that the reflection belongs to him. It seems as though a foreigner is looking back at him—sometimes judging silently, other times mocking him with its eyes.

You know the truth, say the eyes of the stranger who is himself. You know the truth, Landlord.

When he dreams, he remembers. Or perhaps, he thinks, all of his memories have been constructed in dreams. He can never really tell, with the past so disjointed and disordered in his mind.

Sometimes, when he remembers, he is himself.

Sometimes, when he remembers, he is a stranger who is himself—like the reflection in the mirror.

Sometimes, he is both at the same time—in a maze, in a desert, in a dream, all at once, or looking up and down simultaneously, or loving and hating with a single heart.

As time goes by, the memories sharpen and solidify.

When he speaks to Yugi at school one day, a bitter resentment almost consumes him. Why, he asks himself, would I hate my friend in such a way? Why would I wish to harm him?

The image in the mirror shifts.

Don't you remember? Asks the dark-skinned, scar-faced apparition. It is himself. Don't you remember, Ba-khu-ra?

Ryou does not know what he is supposed to remember. All he knows, all he is really certain of, is that he does not want to remember it.

He sleeps again. He dreams again. Once more, he remembers. Only this time, it is as if he is living through the memory.

I need to lure out Yugi—get him to play the Shadow Game. The Prince will pay for all that he has done to Me. Soon…soon…

Ryou awakes in a sweat—hatred, so strong that it is almost tangible, broiling in his gut. It dissipates quickly, but the shock induced by the memory does not. He knows, though he is not quite sure how, that this is one of the things that he is supposed to remember.

You realize it, don't you? It is not really a question. The nature of the Ring—the nature of the Dark God.

Every night, he relives a small bit of what his Other, his Tainted reflection, had made him forget. And he does begin to realize, little by little, the nature of the Ring.

"It was Me the whole time," he says to his Ancient reflection. "There was no spirit sharing my body—not in the way that Yugi and the Prince shared a body. That is why I have many sets of memories." He touches the mirror, traces the scar on the reflection's face. "The Ring has the power to split a soul into as many pieces as its wielder desires. The Dark God was the wielder."

When Yugi and his Other had tried to make the Ring disappear, It had come back.

When Yugi and his Other had tried to banish Ryou's Other to the darkness, he had also come back.

They had never realized why.

"It is futile to banish a fragment of a soul. The remaining fragments serve as an anchor—a beacon to guide it back," says Ryou with a bitter smile. "They should have banished all of Me. But they couldn't; I am their friend." There is a sob, and hot tears running down Ryou's face. Is he crying? It is as if he is outside of himself, observing his own emotions from afar. "Zork was only taking advantage of what had always been there. He could only manipulate emotions that already existed."

The reflection nods. He is weeping as well.

The Ring had fragmented his soul, but it is gone now—destroyed. Without its presence to maintain the severed pieces, his soul is healing; it is knitting together like a wound. Scabbing over, uncomfortable and itchy, but mending itself.

And, as surely as a deep wound of the flesh, it is going to scar.

He can feel it already—the brand of what has been done to him. There is the guilt over what he has done, to friends and enemies alike (or friends who may be enemies, because he really isn't sure anymore). But there is also the disgust he feels when he realizes that a part of him does not feel remorse at all, but pride—a sense of accomplishment.

I won. It took two lifetimes, three thousand years—I even had to sell my soul to the Devil—but I won. I finally avenged them all.

A part of him still relishes the feeling power, that intoxicating control that he had wielded because of the Ring. Because even though it had never actually been his, even though it had, for three thousand years, belonged to Zork, it felt like it had belonged, if only for a short time, to Ryou.

He hates himself.

The Dark God could only manipulate emotions that already existed.

The reflection in the mirror shifts once more. There is no longer a stranger in the mirror— only him. Only Ryou Bakura. He is his Other; he is his Ancient Memory.

His is himself.

For the first time in years, he is completely, unquestionably whole.

So why does he feel so empty?