Orientations were never very interesting, Bakura decided.

It was the day after he had woken up. He had been given a tour of the place after dinner [his first meal in a month], but hadn't been told much about the purpose of the institution. They had shown him his room, which was nothing spectacular, and left him alone for the night. Now, the next day, they were attempting to fill in his gaps in knowledge. Except they were taking their sweet time to get to anything of actual relevance.

As he was waiting, he glanced over at the only other patient in the room. They hadn't been introduced, and didn't bother doing so themselves. He looked like a snob. He had dark hair, was wearing an expensive-looking jacket, and just had a sort of 'holier-than-thou' expression. Which didn't make sense if he was there for the same reason as Bakura. Wouldn't that be an emotion? Maybe personalities didn't count. He didn't know what his own personality was yet, as he hadn't had anyone to test it out on.

"There are many different sorts of patients in the institution," the woman at the front said, and Bakura went back to listening. This sounded like it would be more useful information. "Some are the same as you, learning to live without a Heart. Some have more...unique problems. For instance, we also study Souls at this facility, so some patients have problems of that variety that we're trying to fix and learn from." That answered quite a few of his questions, actually.

"So, while you are allowed to ignore the other patients while you have free time, we encourage you to try to talk to them. Maybe even try to make friends." That didn't seem very likely. "The number one thing I want you to remember, though, is this: you're still a person, just like everyone else. You could let this disability rule your life, or you could take charge and make your own way. After all, this is a very new field of research and study. We could very well be wrong about some things. So, do the best you can! Don't let anything hold you back."

The woman giving the orientation stepped aside, and another one, wearing a big smile [not unlike the woman from the day before] stepped up. "Alright," she said cheerfully. "Now that that's over, it's time for the two of you to go to your first class! Don't worry; these classes are much different than the ones you took in school. You'll be allowed to go at your own pace and learn whatever you think will be the most beneficial to you at the time. I think you'll enjoy it."

Bakura almost pointed out that enjoyment was an emotion, but didn't.

Bakura's first class was less of a class and more of a "get a book, sit down and shut up" period. There was a wide selection of books on the bookshelf, and the teacher had told them that the sooner they acquired the skills to live normally among people, the sooner they would be able to leave, so to pick their topics wisely. Bakura eventually decided on a book about facial expressions with pictures that looked like they belonged in an autistic child's book. It looked informing enough, though.

After reading the first two chapters he decided that he'd had enough for one day, and studied the pictures instead. He thought that memorizing the expressions and the emotions they were associated with would probably be considered a worthy endeavor by the staff, even if they were probably over-exaggerated to get the point across.

While he was reading, a couple of teachers were calling out names every once in a while, and the patient who's name was called would to the back of the room and speak with the teacher for a while. Then they would go back to their books and the teacher would call someone else. When Bakura's name was called, he followed the other patients' example and went to the back.

"Hello, Bakura," the teacher said with a grin. He wondered why all the staff felt the need to be so cheerful. "How are you enjoying your first day at the institution?"

"It's okay," he answered, once again neglecting to point out that enjoyment was an emotion.

"Are you comfortable here?" she asked. He merely nodded. "That's good." She smiled. "What did you choose to read?"

He held up the book he had chosen, and the teacher seemed pleased. "Very good! That's a very informative book, and understanding facial expressions is crucial when dealing with emotional people. You might even learn to use them yourself in some situations."

"...I suppose that's possible," he replied, but didn't think it was very likely. Nevertheless, his response seemed to please the teacher.

"When you're done with that book, maybe you should look into philosophy," she suggested. "We've got plenty of books on the subject."

"I'll look," he said, and she nodded.

"Now...do you have any questions? I'll answer anything to the best of my ability," she assured him. He thought for a moment. She had said 'anything'... "When I came in yesterday there was someone sitting at a table. He was writing something."

The woman smiled. She probably thought he was making some sort of progress by noticing another human being or something. "What did he look like?"

"He was blond, and had dark skin. I couldn't see his face," he told her. He could still see the image perfectly in his mind.

"Oh, that's Marik! Marik Ishtar."

"Why is he here?"

"He has the opposite problem as you, actually," she said, still smiling. "He has a Heart, but lost his Soul."

Bakura blinked. "That's possible?"

She nodded. "It's very rare at this point, but it does happen. Is that all you wanted to know?"

"...Why doesn't he have a soul?" he asked.

Bakura saw something in her eye that might have been described as a twinkle. "You can ask him, if you'd like."