Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Ryou's Piano ❯ the piano ( One-Shot )

Bakura's Piano

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Ryou Bakura could hardly imagine a day without his piano. It was one of those old and beautiful instruments, with large chestnut legs and a shiny finish that made all light cast away from it, illuminating the grandeur of its wooden delicate nature.

He had played the piano for years, ever since his second birthday when his mother had insisted that they buy a piano, and he loved it with all his heart.

It was a magnificent piano. The keys of gleaming ivory, (not real of course) and ebony, deviously polished to a shine that rivaled all other surfaces in the house. His mother used to polish it nightly, so entranced by its unique characteristics, and his father used to joke that she loved the piano more then she did him.

Of course, Ryou's favorite moments were all based around playing the piano, his first few times being slow and stumbling all the notes, the later times being skilled and merciful, lightly tapping out the beat to the crescendo of the everyday noises. The piano seemed to keep itself in perfect time, and he never ran a head or behind when he played. When he played the piano, it was as if the world stopped and the music became another level of distinguished lavish realm, where nothing bad happened, and all that was there was his doing.

He became more confident, able to play for his parents, any song that they requested, and then one day, the confidence left him.

You see, this was when Yami Bakura came about, from the depths of the millennium ring, bearing such hatred and ill will, that all the spirit of Bakura's confidence and his will to survive slowly melted into a congealed mass of nothingness.

It had been years now, since Ryou had played the piano. It sat in a corner, no longer polished nightly by his mother, who had died along with his father in a car accident years before. The dust was beginning to pile up on those beautiful keys, and it was uncared for, tired, worn and scared.

Ryou sat quietly on the polished wood floor feeling the very life of him sink out onto the wooden mass, his energy sapped. He had been forced to polish the floor by Yami Bakura, who had beaten him into submission just before, to teach him a lesson, he had said scowling bitterly down at the cowering boy at his feet.

Ryou slumped to the floor and rested his face against the wood, dreaming of the old days, when he and the piano shared hours of time, trapped in a unreal pull of solidarity and quiet. He imagined plunking a quiet tune on those neglected keys and felt a slow sigh escape his lips.

Why had it happened the way it did? Why had his parents had to die and leave him here with a lunatic who had beaten him for every day since his could remember Yami Bakura's presence? It was all that blasted rings fault. If it hadn't come, things would have been fine, and he would have been sitting at the piano bench playing to his hearts content. He couldn't feel his heart any more. It seemed lost in a haze of depression, and then he felt the sharp boot of Yami Bakura's foot hitting him in the ribs.

" what are you doing down here! You should be finishing polishing everything in the room!" he snarled, lashing out, but this time not causing Ryou to flinch. Ryou stared softly up at his attacker and then looked away, eyes half closed in defeat, a broken soul.

Yami Bakura knelt beside him, ready to yank him up from the ground with one hand, when he noticed the newly formed dead look in Ryou's eyes, and frowned.

" What's the matter with you? You used to at least move when I told you to. You're being worse then you were when I first met you. Your lazy." He snapped peevishly.

" I'm sick." Ryou mumbled softly into the floor, tears threatening to fill his eyes at a moments notice.

" your sick? How can you be sick?" Yami Bakura reached down and gingerly touched his forehead, finger grazing the soft skin like a velvet glove.

He frowned. " your not sick. You don't have a fever. Your don't' seem to be throwing up explosively, your fine. Now get up off your ass and start polishing the rest of the room.

Ryou didn't respond; stuck in his memories of the times he'd loved. The times he would never see again, not with Yami Bakura around. He curled up his limbs and lay there, on the cold floor, trapped in his mind.

Yami Bakura sighed and sat down on the floor beside him, shoulders slumping.

" You just don't understand. If you want to make it in the real world, you'll have to become stronger, and stop being such a coward. Now get up. I want you to polish that floor again. I'm not going to have those damned fool mortals take you away from me. Blasted social services. I'll fix them after you've finished polishing the floor."

Ryou cast him a soft glance again and then returned to staring at the floor silently, eyes half opened, mind shut off to the world.

Yami Bakura stood up, stiffened and then turned to face the piano, as if just having noticed it. Puzzled, he stalked past Ryou's limp form and reached out, fingers grazing the smooth, dusty surface like it was an old friend. He brushed some of the dust off the keys and then sat down on the bench, reaching out with his foot to touch the silver pedals on the bottom. He depressed it, and then took his foot off the pedal, fingers finding all the right keys as if by instinct. Then, slowly, he began to play, eyes half closed, entranced by the music that seemed to flow from his fingertips.

Ryou sat up and stared catiously at him, lower lip trembling at the sound of the instrument, it's beautiful peals of notes like a cascading waterfall, and he knew then that Yami Bakura had always known about his passion for the piano.

Yami Bakura cast a glance at Ryou, seeing his terrified eyes and then looked back at the piano.

" You know, we're a lot alike, you and me. I learned to play lute when I was little. My father made me learn so that I could make something for myself in the pharaoh's castle. A royal musician, he wanted me to be." He said softly, fingers still moving on the keys, the notes now becoming more legato, smooth, and then he began to play with even more ease then before, taking one hand off the keys all together.

He leaned back and smirked at Ryou, fingers still moving, the melody not dying, never stopping even when Ryou rose from the ground and stood beside him, staring in awe at the piano, and half at him.

" You never told me you could play the piano." Ryou murmured softly.

Yami Bakura shrugged.

" I didn't want anyone to know. I learned through you of course. Watched you during your lessons, when you thought I wasn't around. How could I not want to at least try to achieve some sort of musical bliss, even if I ended up being a tomb robber? Besides, I didn't want the pharaoh to know. He'd think I was a pansy or something."

Ryou reached out and carefully touched the keys on the piano, not daring to press down for fear of reprisal. When none came, he trembled, and pressed one key, hearing the heavenly sound ring out like a call to the world. Yami Bakura slid over to the side of the bench and made room for Ryou, who immediately began to play, as he had once done before Yami Bakura's existence in his life.

The music was the most beautiful that Bakura had ever played in his life. It was filled with all of his soul, his want to be better, his want to be something that didn't' cower at the smallest sound. It was his entire life, his love, his depression, and then, Yami Bakura stopped playing and simply stared quietly, with admiration, at him.

He smiled softly, for the first time in Ryou's presence, crossing his arms, feeling the sound reverberate through the inside of his head, the sounds making him wish that he could cry for what he had done.

He shook his head softly, closing his eyes, not wanting to ruin the look of pure ecstasy on Ryou's face. The first time he'd seen Ryou smile in months.

And then the music stopped.

Yami Bakura carefully opened his eyes and beheld the astonished face of Ryou, who was shaking horribly, hands held out in front of him as if he had done something terrible. His fingers shook, his whole body seemed to quake and then, he reached out and buried his face in Yami Bakura's chest, sobbing bitterly, sobbing with his heart on his sleeve.

Yami Bakura was startled, needless to say, but for once, his heart had come to life. He wrapped his arms around Ryou's shaking frame and held him to his heart, wishing that he could have undone everything he had ever done, wanting nothing more then to return to the ring and to remain there forever, to save the boy in his arms from himself.

The doorbell rang loudly, and they both jumped, Yami Bakura pulling free, but still holding one of Ryou's hands in one hand, he went forward, tugging Ryou along with him and threw open the door.

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Ryou sat quietly at the piano bench, pride resonating from his eyes.

Yami Bakura had smiled and thrown the best of his actions into the performance of a lifetime. The social worker hadn't even suspected that anything had happened to Ryou. He'd been bamboozled, just like everyone else. But Ryou knew that Yami Bakura had changed a little.

For the moment that interview was over, he had grabbed Ryou, hugged him so tightly that he thought he would die from the strength, and had held him for twenty minutes straight, crying.

Something had broken him both of them.

It was not the courage, not hatred that had broken them both. It was the understanding that both cared about each other much more then they had ever known.

They had wronged each other, though Yami Bakura had more of the wronging then Ryou.

Now, Ryou knew why Yami Bakura had been so hateful, so vengeful, so spiteful, so empty.

It was because he had been scared that Ryou would end up like him, and now that he knew that Ryou was safe from his influence, there was a whole new door and a new life for them both.

And to think,

It was the piano's way of returning all those years of loving affection to its owner. To bring two people together the way nothing else could.

Such is the way of one who loves another.