Ryou's Story

Summary: This story is mine to tell. No, not the one whom most refer to as Bakura, the spirit of the millennium ring, just me. He already stole my name but I cannot- will not- let him take away the one thing that I have left…my words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!

Author's Note: To those of you who know every little detail about Ryou's biography, keep in mind that I am not an expert. I just make things up as I go, in addition to recalling as many facts as possible. I'm just trying to fill in the gaps. But clearly, there may be some inconsistencies. Just bear with me, all right? This isn't a fact book, it's a story.
This story takes place from the moment Ryou meets his darker half up to the Egypt Arc…I'm assuming this is about a one-year time span. It does not happen in our present time, 2009! I don't remember when YGO officially ended in Japan, but it was certainly a while ago…

Chapter One- What's Mine is Yours…Apparently

It was on September 1, 2002 when my identity had been robbed from me. My father, in the spirit of good will, had given me a souvenir from his summer-long trip to Egypt, and also as an early birthday present. He informed me that he had discovered this souvenir, in the shape of a large golden ring, in an open market, by a vendor selling "exotic treasures." Knowing my taste, my father opted to give me the rarest looking artifact he could find.

I believe, if my father hadn't felt so guilty about his constant absence away from me, that he would not have bothered to purchase such an unusual treasure, at such a high cost.

What a mistake he had made that fateful day.

But can I really blame him? Who would ever fathom, for even a moment, that an evil, malicious, fiend of a spirit possessed the souvenir my father had presented to me?

So when my father had given me this gift, I had (rather elated, I will admit), accepted the present with open arms.

Upon my first viewing of this present, which is what we now know as the millennium ring, I thought it was absolutely beautiful. I had never seen anything so striking, so astounding, in my entire life.

A large golden ring that measured to be about the size of my fists balled together, it seemed to capture even the smallest fragments of light that came within its vicinity; it would reflect the light into pigmented rays, casting it into hundreds of different directions. Along the bottom half of the halo-shaped ring, small golden wires encircled it, five in total, which were about an inch apart. Attached to these wires were elongated spikes, pointing ever downward. They were clearly welded to perfection, tapered with exact precision. They looked so sharp, almost like they could be a weapon.

My favorite part of this artifact was the Egyptian relic that resided in the center, or what I referred to as the heart of the ring. Resting perfectly balanced laid a triangle-shaped sheet of gold, the primary point meeting with the upper half of the ring. In the midst of the triangle resided an emblem, one which I always felt looked like the eye of Horus, only somehow more enigmatic.

Even when I first set eyes on the millennium ring, I could tell there was something ethereal about it. I couldn't quite place my finger on it, but it was as if an inexplicable power was emanating from the ring's very core, especially from its eye. Perhaps it was because of this mysterious spiritual presence that I was sensing that made it all the more beautiful to me. It was very much like how an insect is drawn to a strong source of light.

But didn't anyone ever tell me? The most beautiful things in life also tend to be the deadliest.

I was first introduced to the spirit that resided inside the ring the night that led up to my birthday, literally at the stroke of midnight. I had school in the morning, but I was restless.

The entire day that I had the millennium ring in my possession, I simply couldn't take my eyes off of it. I was so mesmerized by the ring's breathtaking appearance that I wanted it to be my newest accessory, something to wear that was different. (You can imagine that as a teenager who was forced to wear a uniform, breaking from conformity, even in the smallest way, was something to be desired). Noticing that there was a convenient spot to put a cord through the ring, I decided to take a thin piece of rope and loop it into a sort of necklace. True, it was a quite gaudy fashion statement, especially for myself, but this ring was too special to me to simply let it collect dust on my bedroom shelf.

Thus started the first day I wore the millennium ring and, unbeknownst to me at the time, the beginning of an endless cycle of anguish.

As I was getting ready to go to bed that night, I had much on my mind. My birthday was the next day after all. Another year older…I would be soon be sixteen. According to my father, I was born very close to, if not exactly, midnight.

It was always a little tradition of mine to stay up until the time of my birth on this day. I'm not sure what was so special about looking at the clock and saying, "Oh, will you look at that. I was born just now," but I was determined to stay awake. Pretty lame, right? But truly, I have an unnatural tendency to go to bed no later than eleven. I just get so tired! My father had once jokingly asked me, "What kind of teen insists on going to bed this darn early?"

I know my father's right- I make a lousy teenager. I'm not rebellious, I don't talk back, I don't partake in illegal activities (what a laugh!), and I most certainly am not a night-owl. I just wasn't brought up that way, I suppose. But I'll get to that topic later.

…Anyway. That night, as I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom connected to my bedroom, I readily awaited the alarm I had on my cell phone to go off. It was set to go off exactly at midnight, fittingly set to blaring the tune "Happy Birthday" which was a quite annoying, but necessary, part to the ritual. Happy birthday to me.

I finally spat out the toothpaste into the sink, rinsing out my mouth. I waited. My alarm should have gone off by now. It was about two minutes till midnight when I had headed to the bathroom. And it had definitely been two minutes. But all I could hear was the running of water from the faucet. I carefully twisted the faucet off, greeted with silence in its place.

I sighed. Bloody phone. Probably broke, conveniently of course, when I expected it work. How typical.

I stared up at my reflection in the colossal mirror in front of me. Large, chocolate brown eyes stared back.

"Happy birthday," I mouthed to my reflection. I felt silly, even as I said it, but I felt someone had to tell myself "happy birthday," because it certainly wasn't going to be anybody at school. Even if I was just saying it to myself.

And then something not-so-ordinary occurred.

Slowly but quite unexpectedly, I watched in horror as my lips curved up into a humorless smile in my reflection. It was actually more like a smirk. In the mirror, I observed eyes that bore into me, as if probing through my very soul. These eyes were wild, very much unlike my passive ones. The eyes looked maniacal and…hungry.

Clearly, the face that stole my reflection was somehow not mine. I mean, it was still my body, but I am not possible of such a malevolent facial expression. If looks could kill, I would be dead. By my own reflection, nonetheless!

I felt my heart rise up to my throat, blinking rapidly in hopes of diminishing the image in front of me. Perhaps it was a hallucination of some sort. Can you hallucinate if you're tired enough?

As if to confirm that no, there was not a mirage before me, that it was a reality, I felt my lips part, as if to say something.

No, no, no. This wasn't happening. How?! I was not doing this! Despite my effort to close my mouth, it still remained slightly agape, ignoring my will.

I watched as my head tilted to the side, deliberately. A noise that I could hardly recognize as mine emitted from my throat, sounding like the faint rumble of a car engine and then quickly revving up to a deep-throated laughter. How was such a blood-freezing sound capable of coming from me?

What was going on?!

"Ryou, is it?" my unnaturally arrogant voice drawled. I wouldn't have believed that someone was talking through me if I hadn't seen my own reflection betray me.

The strange phenomenon that was taking place in my body continued to proceed as another half-crazed laughter shook throughout my entire body.

Always a believer in the supernatural, I promptly concluded that there must be some kind of evil spirit that decided to plant itself in my body. But why me? Where did it come from?

And then I remembered the present my father had given me. The ring. I glanced down at my chest in awe, noticing that the necklace that hung around my neck was glowing as brightly as the sun, nearly blinding me, even though it remained hidden beneath my button-up shirt. How had I not seen that before? Oh, yeah. Maybe if I had not been so freaked out by my involuntary body movements I would have taken that detail into account!

The spirit inhabiting me decided to say something very strange at that moment. I didn't understand it then, but believe me, it's all too clear now:

"I choose you."

I stared at the sneering lips that were not mine. I wanted to say, "Who are you? What do you mean?" but my lips would not obey me. They would from that point on submit to its new owner.

Without another moment's notice, bolts of pain shot through me, setting my nervous system into panic mode. All I could feel at that point were the waves of pain that crashed over my body, refusing to be put to rest. Like electrical shocks, flashes of agony zipped up and down my arms, legs, and everything else in between. It all happened so fast, I barely had the chance to react.

Why did I not have control of my body, and yet, I could still feel the pain? It was unbearable. What was happening to me?

Despite the crazed facial expression that was unwillingly plastered on my face, I managed to force my eyes to look down. Greeting them was a sea of red. Pouring into the sink, spilling onto the tile floor, somehow splashing onto the mirror, was blood.

The smell of it made me so nauseous. It smelled like rusty metal. It smelled like wetness. It smelled like fear.

Where was it all coming from? I couldn't possibly be the source of it all….right?

Observing that the majority of burgundy fluid was flowing down my chest, trailing down my abdomen and staining my denim jeans, I realized that my previous thoughts were wrong. It was coming from me.

I wore a white shirt that day. Like a virus, the blood intermingled with the pure white fibers, forever corrupting its clean color.

I realized that I was finally able to gain control of my body when I felt my entire being shaking like a leaf blowing in a hurricane. With trembling hands, I unbuttoned my shirt and checked the damage.

Understand that I had never seen something so vile, so disturbing, in my life. Understand also, that I had never been so terrified. And of course, understand that ignorance, unfortunately, is the greatest tool to fuel fear into a heart. And, as an ignorant person with not the slightest idea as to what was going on, I could not have been more horrified.

So when I tell you that, upon viewing the millennium ring which was literally merged into my chest, with its golden spikes plummeting through my torn skin like prying fingers, I passed out, please do not think anything less of me.

Ask yourself, "if I had a possessed Egyptian relic taking possession of my body, and it permanently took root in my chest, mangling it the process, what would I do?" I would like to know one person who can honestly attest to the fact that he or she would be perfectly all right with it. I would like to know one person who wouldn't pass out.

Goodbye, dreams. Goodbye, world. Goodbye, grip on reality. That day was the first of many consecutive days when I didn't have complete control of my body. Soon enough, I would even lose my grip on time, knowing where I was, or what I was doing. My life became the sacrifice, and some vindictive demonic spirit was reliving his.

There was one thing I am quite proud of, though.

At least I didn't scream.