Once upon a time, there was a boy called Ryou Bakura.
When Ryou was very little, he used to imagine something terrible would happen and his parents would die. Then he'd be adopted by a magical, new family.
Later, he would try to imagine what his life would be like if he wasn't himself. What if he was born to a different family, in a different country, in a different body?
It was difficult. After all, he didn't know this person, this other version of him. Eventually, he gave up on it.
When Ryou was eight, something terrible happened. And there was no magical adoptive family. The house was huge and empty. His mother and sister were gone, and his father quietly vanished from his life to work far away, leaving him in the care of a forgetful grandmother who'd brush his hair and tell him he looked just like his mother.
She read to him, and told him stories, fairytales about little boys and girls and the benevolent spirits that took care of them when no one else did.
He often dreamt that one of them came to take care of him.
When Ryou was nine, his father sent him a package. Inside was a huge golden pendant on a leather band. And inside that, there was a spirit. And it took care of him.
The outside world was cold and harsh, all sharp edges and hard ground. Empty of warmth it was, full of despair and devoid of people.
Ryou didn't stay there often. Inside, there was a magical world full of fairies and colorful lights. There where friends to play with, and models to built.
He didn't have to listen to his grandmother's stories anymore, and he didn't need to hear his father's sobs at night.
The spirit took care of the outside world for him.
It was exactly like in his stories. He could be where he wanted to be and no one would realize he was gone.
He still missed his mother and sister, but he could write them letters, and the spirit would take them over, and bring their letters back.
They wrote that they were well, and that they wouldn't be separated for long. If he stayed right where he was and behaved, he'd be with them before he knew it. The spirit would make sure of that.
And Ryou behaved. He created worlds, and he played. He slept a lot. Sometimes he would dream.
(He was on an island, with people he'd never seen before, but it seemed like they knew him. There was a castle with an evil king. He wasn't himself, though. He was someone else. He watched it all happen. His dream self said things he'd never heard about, didn't even knew existed.)
And he'd forget. It was just a dream after all. He didn't know that person.
Sometimes he'd have nightmares.
(There was blood. Cold and pain. A dragon. People screaming his name. Darkness.)
But mostly, he played. He built worlds, and he tore them down.
His life was like a fairytale.
Until it stopped.
He awoke on cold stone steps, not knowing where he was, or who those people were (were they from his dreams?).
They asked a lot of questions. He answered as good as he could.
His name was Ryou Bakura. He was nine years old.