Note: I distinguish between the boy and the spirit by using the names Ryou and Bakura, respectively. I know that they are both commonly called Bakura, but I used Ryou's first name to make it more obvious who I was referring to, since I don't use the term "Yami Bakura". When Bakura speaks to Ryou, his speech is italicized and within slash marks (e.g. /Bakura/). In addition, the story mentions Amane, who was Ryou's sister in the manga, I believe. No, I don't really think Ryou is crazy, but it was still fun to write.


To everyone around him, Ryou appeared to be alone. He walked to school alone, sat by himself, walked home alone, and rarely strayed from his house once he reached it. He had few friends, and he didn't often talk to the ones he did have. Many people pitied him, feeling sorry for that poor lonely boy.

Ryou knew that his teachers eyed him with concern and sympathy. He had heard them whispering about "unhealthy states", "withdrawn natures", "antisocial tendencies", and the "possible need for psychological evaluation". He knew that this was just another way of saying that there was something wrong with him.

He glanced back at his history teacher as he walked out of the school, but quickly averted his gaze, shying away from the condescending pity and thoughtful worry in her eyes. He had no desire to be sent to the school counselor, so he plastered a smile on his face and walked away hurriedly. Simply being friendless shouldn't be reason enough to warrant a trip to the counselor, but when coupled with Ryou's tendency to sometimes talk to himself out loud as if to an imaginary friend, the threat became all too real.

Ryou doubted that telling his teachers that he was actually talking to the spirit of a long dead Egyptian thief would save him from the counselor's office. Well, sometimes he was talking to Bakura. The Thief King wasn't a big conversationalist, so Ryou's conversations with him were often rather one-sided. In fact, Ryou sometimes talked even when Bakura wasn't paying attention or conversing at all. It was less out of a desire for conversation than a sort of half-baked idea that if he kept up his nervous chatter, Bakura would be less likely to do something Ryou wouldn't appreciate. Like taking over his body, possibly murdering his friends, and potentially taking over the world. If that anxious babbling sometimes spilled out of his mouth into the silence of a classroom in the midst of taking a history test, then so be it.

His teacher ought to be thankful, really. His meandering monologues were vaguely humanitarian in nature, after all. She wouldn't be too pleased if a psychopathic spirit destroyed the world either. Or whatever it was Bakura was planning to do. To be honest, Ryou wasn't too sure what he wanted with the Millennium Puzzle. And at that particular moment, it didn't really matter.

Another glance backward as he rounded the corner revealed that his history teacher had been joined by two of his other teachers, and they were all watching him and whispering. He breathed a sigh of relief as they disappeared around the corner. He couldn't afford to go to the counselor now. He wasn't sure that he could act normal enough for her to deem him alright, much less sane.

/Then stop acting like a crazy fool. If they decide that you are crazy, they will lock you up. And if you are locked up, that gets in the way of my plans to destroy the Pharaoh. And if you get in the way of my plans, I will make your pathetic life even more miserable./

Ryou stepped backwards involuntarily as Bakura appeared, his translucent form glowering at the boy. Ryou wet his lips nervously, not wanting to anger the spirit farther.

"Umm, yeah. I'll be careful," he stuttered.

A few passersby shot him odd looks, and the Thief King snarled and rolled his eyes.

/A hopeless case./

Ryou bowed his head and started walking again, already regretting that he had spoken out loud once more. He needed to get this under control. Bakura could hear his thoughts; he didn't have to speak them.

/I am glad that you have finally learned that much./

The spirit's tone was unmistakably disgusted as he shook his head and vanished. Ryou studied the spot where Bakura had stood for a moment,before turning back to look at the road in front of him again. He couldn't afford to attract the Thief King's wrath. Keeping his mouth firmly closed, he managed to make it home without talking to air again.

He maintained this studied silence as he prepared his meal and did a bit of homework. It was practice for the next day. Bakura didn't appear again, but every time Ryou caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, he instinctively flinched and looked around. And his first response was always to open his mouth and squeak out something to save him from the spirit's rage. He nervously closed the window, not wanting to be frightened half to death by fluttering curtains again. If any little movement set him off, how was he supposed to pretend that he was alright?

With a sigh, Ryou leaned against the windowsill and watched the sun set, its glaring white rays morphing into more subdued shades of purple and pink. It was beautiful, but he couldn't suppress a chuckle. If his teachers knew what happened after the sun went down each night, he wouldn't be able to avoid the counselor no matter how put together he was during the day.

The sun's last rays glimmered for a moment and disappeared, leaving darkness to settle in their wake. Ryou continued to gaze out the window for a few minutes, admiring the small pinpricks of light that popped into existence to counter the blackness. Sometimes Ryou felt like one of those stars. He was like a tiny flickering light trying to stand against the darkness inside himself. Maybe he couldn't win against Bakura, but at least he could try to hold his own. He snorted at the thought. Now wasn't the time to suddenly become philosophical.

He stepped away from the window and flopped onto his bed, staring up at his ceiling sightlessly as he waited. He hadn't been scared of the dark in a long time, but it was different once he closed his eyes. When his eyes were closed, anything could be sneaking up on him. Bakura could be plotting another bodysnatching episode, or maybe one of the spirit's enemies would come barreling into Ryou's room to get revenge. The problem was that any revenge against Bakura inevitably meant damage to Ryou's body.

These weren't completely unfounded fears, to be sure. Bakura often waited for Ryou to settle down before taking over his body. It meant that the boy would be taken by surprise and resist less. And when the spirit was in a particularly nasty mood, he liked to start whispering vicious words into Ryou's ear just as he closed his eyes and started to relax. It nearly gave Ryou a heart attack every time. Although thoroughly unpleasant, such incidents were not fatal. However, Bakura had made many enemies while inhabiting Ryou's body, and some of the more unsavory ones had broken into his room before.

Despite all those reasons, Ryou supposed the main one was that when he closed his eyes, he felt out of control. At least when he was awake and aware, he could see what was coming and try to stop it. He had some modicum of control, if not much. Anything could be happening when his eyes were closed.

Unsurprisingly, these fears had turned Ryou into both a nervous wreck and an insomniac. However, a few months ago something had happened to change that. He had been trying unsuccessfully to sleep one night, when his sister had shown up. His dead sister. Not that he had seen her, but he had known she was there. As soon as his eyes had closed, he heard the sound of her almost-forgotten voice softly singing a lullaby. When his eyes had opened, Amane wasn't there. But each night after that, every time he closed his eyes, Amane sang to him.

Ryou could imagine how his teachers would react if they found out about that. Amane was his little secret, and he had no intention of letting anybody find out about her.

Finally convincing himself to close his eyes, Ryou settled back in his bed and waited. After a few moments, his sister's voice began singing in his ear. He relaxed and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he listened to her. It was nice to know that she was still here, even if she was dead. It helped him let go of how much he missed her presence. No need to mourn something that wasn't truly gone.

He cracked open an eye, and the voice immediately disappeared. Surveying the room, he saw exactly what he expected to: nothing. Sighing, he closed his eyes again, and Amane resumed her lullaby. He wished that he could see her wide brown eyes one more time, but she was never there when he looked up. Sometimes that made him wonder.

He was often tempted to ask Bakura if he could hear Amane too, but fear always stopped him. If Bakura didn't hear her, did that mean she wasn't real? That she was just a figment of his imagination? No, she was real, and Ryou didn't need the spirit's confirmation. She had to be real.

But as he drifted off to sleep, he had to wonder.

Sometimes he was convinced that Amane was real, a ghost that stayed behind to haunt and comfort him. Other times he thought he was going crazy. Ghosts didn't exist, and he was hallucinating.

Sometimes he absolutely knew that a cruel white-haired spirit dwelled within him and inside of the Millennium Ring. A spirit that could take control of his body and hurt people. Other times he was convinced that he was imagining the whole thing. Maybe he was the one hurting his friends.

Sometimes he knew that he had friends like Yugi and the others. He knew that a spirit they called Yami resided in Yugi and the Millennium Puzzle. A spirit who had once been a pharaoh, and a spirit Bakura desperately wanted to defeat and destroy. Other times, the whole idea seemed laughable. A long-dead pharaoh taking over a boy's body to save the world by winning card games? Really?

Once he had started doubting the more mysterious and uncertain things in his life, it had become easier to doubt the more concrete ones. In fact, sometimes he doubted that he had friends at all. He wasn't always sure if Yugi and the others even existed, or if he had just made them up. Actually, he didn't always know if the rest of the world existed at all. Maybe he was the only real thing, and the world as he thought he knew it only existed in his head.

To be honest, he couldn't really tell the difference anymore.