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This was made to answer the unasked question: Where does Ryo go when not in control of his body? This is more of a description of Ryo's mind that a story but, still, enjoy!!

 

            Ryo was thrust out of control of his body and into a room. He had encountered this room several times before, but he had been so exhausted that sleeping where he sat seemed like a very enticing option instead of looking around. This time though, he kept his eyes open and took a look around.

            The walls were a light blue, soft and comforting. In one corner sat a bed which was covered in dust and looked like it had rarely been slept in. Ryo sensed a sad and lonely feeling when he looked at it, for it was his first bed, and he and Amane used to sit there, snuggle under the warm blanket of comfort, and read fantastic stories of grandeur into the young hours of the morning.

            Leaning against another wall was a wooden bookshelf that was full of room, as if showing how young he was and how little he had experienced (though I will say that it had more items that most younglings' bookshelves on it). On the bookshelf there were several things. One item was a deck of Tarot cards, some of which were strewn about as if to show how uncertain the future actually was at this point in his life. Sitting beside it was a Ouiji board that, upon investigation, was hollow, filled with all of his letters to Amane. Below that shelf was a shelf filled with all the fairy tales that Ryo had read and enjoyed with Amane. The books were covered in a thick layer of dust, as if to say that that time is long past and that looking back is pointless. Also on one more shelf were his dolls, toys for a toy as he called them. Ryo sometimes took them out and brushed their hair, whispering words of apology in their neverhearing ears.

            Also on this wall was a mirror. This mirror had small, delicate fingerprints on it and bore a crack in one corner. Sometimes Ryo stared into this mirror and saw a twisted reflection that he talked with sometimes. He knew that everything the image said was a lie, but he strove for any form of comfort in any way. This lie was all he had.

            On yet another of the four walls in his room was a set of picture frames showing all of his happy and treasured memories. It filled Ryo's heart with sadness that there were only three pictures on the wall, each of them showcasing long dead people and also being covered in a layer of thick dust, making his fond memories unreachable, blurring their significance.

            Scattered across the floor, as if without an errant thought, were forget-me-not petals, mixed in with aloe and amaranthus petals as well, showing that he could never forget his grief or his seemingly hopeless situation.

            Shining from the ceiling, a dim light illuminated the contents of his mind's perception of his soul. Shadows lingered in the corners, as if unwilling to go without taking him with them, encroaching on his mind. If Ryo concentrated, he could make the light brighter, feeding it with his hope and banishing the shadows away. As soon as he opened his eyes, however, the light dimmed and the shadows reclaimed their part of his mind.

            On the fourth and final wall, there was a door. The door had peeling paint, was made of wood, and was always locked. There was a peephole in the center of the door's upper half, which Ryo sometimes looked out of to see the horrifying atrocities that were being committed in his body. Looking out of the peephole brought despair to the forefront of his mind, making the light on the ceiling grow dimmer and letting the shadows encroach upon his territory. Ryo tried not to do it too often.

            Hanging from the metal doorknob of the white door was the Kareta Mero, preventing him from escaping the confines of even his own mind, for Ryo knew that that door was his way to control.

Sighing, Ryo went to sit on the bed and wait for the spirit inside him to relinquish control to him once again.

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