Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or any of its characters. I do, however, own my OC, Myra.


Myra sat upon Ryou's soft bed, her legs crossed beneath her and her arms wrapped around herself, trying to keep warm. She watched as the thin boy before her paced restlessly around the room, his dark eyes narrowed in thought. She shivered as a cool breeze caressed her, and she figured it was the result of a drafty window. She shivered again, this time a bit harder, and she hugged herself tighter, trying to fight off the cold. Suddenly a blanket was draped over her shoulders, and she looked up to see Ryou hovering over her, his features worried as he forced a nervous smile onto his face. She returned his smile, nodding her head in thanks.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he plopped down beside her, causing the bed to dip slightly beneath his weight. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. "I'm not sure where to start," he whispered.

"With the beginning," she whispered back, wrapping the blanket a bit tighter around her. She watched him carefully as he lifted his head from his hands. He observed her silently, wondering what would happen when she learned the truth. Would she be horrified? Would she shun him because of his darker half like the others had? Or would she be the friend he had always secretly wished for? To be the one person to accept him for who he was, to accept every part of him, including his Yami. He let out a breath that he wasn't aware he had been holding, and nodded, finally gathering his resolve.

"My mother and sister are both dead," he started, and when he saw that she went to say something, probably to offer comfort, he lifted his hand to stop her, wanting to get the beginning of his tale out before he chickened out. "My father is all that I have left, though he is not around often. The locked door across from mine leads into his room, though it hasn't been used for quite some time," he explained.

So that's what is behind the locked door, she thought to herself, her curiosity about the room now fading. When she saw his hesitant look, she reached out tentatively and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. "Go on," she encouraged.

He nodded, closing his eyes. "During one of my father's trips to Egypt, he purchased something he intended to give to me as a gift, though it's turned out to be more of a curse," he muttered, reaching inside his shirt and pulling out something shiny that glinted in the pale moonlight. "The Millennium Ring," he explained, passing it to her for closer examination, though still keeping it on.

She held the object gingerly, as if the slightest bit of pressure would cause the item to crumble into dust. She turned the item around in the light, taking in the feel of it in her hands and its ominous appearance. She stroked her fingers against the dangling pendants, letting them clink together, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. She let the ring go, placing it gently against his chest, running her hand over it one last time.

As she did this, he watched her intently, and when she allowed the ring to rest against his chest he felt her soft fingers through his thin shirt, and he shivered involuntarily. Before he allowed himself to dwell on any more thoughts of her, he continued to tell his story.

"It's an ancient Egyptian artifact, part of a set of seven. Though my father didn't know it at the time, it's actually…possessed," he muttered. He was expecting her to laugh, to call him crazy or to mock him, so he was shocked when she didn't do any of those. When he met her eyes, he saw sincere interest shining in her green orbs, and he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his pink lips.

"By what?" she asked, removing her hand from his shoulder and using it to wrap the blanket back around her. She found herself leaning slightly towards him, half in fascination at his story, and half in an unconscious attempt to seek out heat, as the chill air had now started to penetrate through the thin blanket.

He leaned closer in return, bringing his voice down to a whisper, "And evil spirit. To be more specific, the spirit of a thief from ancient Egypt." She leaned forward a bit more, having to scoot the rest of herself closer to keep from throwing herself off balance and toppling over onto his lap. "Unfortunately, this spirit, who chooses to go by my last name, Bakura, can take control of my body whenever he pleases," he finished, looking deeply into her eyes for any signs of disbelief or fear. He found none, though what worried him was that she wasn't saying anything. "Myra?" he asked shyly.

"Mhmm," she answered, and he could tell from the sound of her voice and the fact that she was now resting her head on this shoulder that she was tired.

"You're not…scared? Or think I'm crazy?" he asked, hanging his head in anticipation of her answer, thinking himself foolish to expect anything else.

She shifted against him a bit, trying to get more comfortable. "No, why would I?" she murmured. "Besides, I've seen proof of it, so I would be a fool to try and deny it." At hearing her words, he allowed himself to relax slightly, though there was still one more question he had to ask.

"Myra…will you…I mean," he struggled for words, not quite sure he wanted to hear her answer. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he finally spat the words out. "Myra, will you still be friends with me, despite the existence of Bakura?" He prepared himself for the worst.

She laughed a bit then. He reminded her of a child that was afraid to lose his friend because he stole their cookies. "Silly Ryou," she laughed, leaning against him more heavily, "of course I will." Ryou completely relaxed then, letting out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.

"Myra, don't you think you should be getting home now?" he asked, yawning widely. When he received no answer, he realized that she had fallen asleep on him! He smiled fondly, moving her so that she was lying down on his bed, her head on his pillow and her body covered by a thicker blanket than the one he had given her before. As he was leaving the room, he threw her one last glance over his shoulder admiring the way she looked in the moonlight streaming through his window.

He headed towards the living room, stopping to grab an extra pillow and blanket out of the hall closet. He made his bed for that night on his small loveseat after locating the destroyed cushions and putting them back where they belonged. He sighed, knowing that he had a lot of cleaning to do; in fact he would probably have to skip school tomorrow in order to finish it all before nightfall the next day.

As he allowed his thoughts to revolve around all the housework he would have to do tomorrow, his eyes began to feel heavy, and as he drifted off to sleep, his last waking thoughts were of the girl sleeping soundly in his bed in the next room.


Author's Note: Revised version of chapter eight. Please let me know if you catch any mistakes that I missed so that I can fix them! Thank you!