If there was one thing Ryou Bakura knew well, it was the feeling of being alone. He almost preferred it that way. Being alone meant no one he knew would be in danger, he'd suffer no memory lapses, and at the very least, with no outside contact, the Spirit of the Ring would feel less inclined to inhabit his host.
But he wasn't alone anymore, and never would be again. He had Yugi and his friends now, and that terrified him. No matter how safe he felt among their company, Ryou knew that just being there was a risk to everyone around him. And he knew that the Spirit of the Ring wouldn't let him just walk away. He was a prisoner in his own body from the moment he laid eyes on Yugi's Puzzle, and would remain that way until the Spirit got what he wanted, or was stopped forever. It didn't seem likely that either option would happen soon.
He wanted his life back, but by this point he could barely remember what having a life to himself was. Always, there was that voice in his head that overtook him so easily, leaving behind just enough of Ryou to mimic him perfectly. Sometimes he felt himself smiling as he normally would, saying the things he normally would, but no matter how he struggled he could tell no one that it was only a hollow copy of his own voice.
He knew he couldn't stop the spirit from taking over—he had tried, many times, and each time he was less and less successful. His will was too weak; his soul too acclimated to being shunted from his physical form any moment. He had gotten used to the interruptions so long ago that by now it was easier to pretend they never happened in the first place.
He did feel guilty about it, but it wasn't like it was a secret by now. They knew the risks just as well as he did, and still they stood by him. A darker part of Ryou even blamed them for continuing to hang around even after his other self had tried to murder them several times.
So it was easier to plaster a stupid grin on his face, nod slowly, and pretend he had no idea what happened. Ryou Bakura, the great pretender, self-deceiver extraordinaire. He almost laughed then, a choked, hollow cry for help that was too dangerous to let out. For a moment he considered it, but the voice in his head that sounded too much like his own stilled his tongue in an instant. It would only bring pain if they knew, it said, and he found himself agreeing without so much as a word of protest.
Ryou Bakura had grown so used to being silent he'd forgotten he had a voice of his own.
"Bakura," Yugi cried, shaking him into blissful awareness. "Are you alright? Do you remember what happened?"
Blink once. Tilt head. Widen eyes. Keep tone even.
"No, I… I don't remember anything, Yugi. I hope I didn't cause any trouble."
Ryou Bakura felt the spirit tugging his mouth into a smirk as soon as he turned away. He knew it wouldn't be long before it all started again.
He just wondered if it would ever stop.