Disclaimer: Oh dear lord…I do not own Yugioh! or any other anime/manga that may arise in this fanfic. I will continue the list as we go along, but I own none of these characters, they are all owned by the awesome authors that created them as well as the big name companies that distribute them. I am just a simple interweb being that owns…her life?

ALSO I believe anime/manga/book characters, unless specifically stated, do not have birthday years.

If I see no birthday year, I will go by the age and the year that story begins, that does not belittle your opinion or mine, as even I am not concrete on this. Math was done. .

I want to thank Defective Ice Cube for being my Beta Reader, and my Lil Airhead for giving me the idea to show that everyone must grow to be interesting.

Introduction: The Gray Room

September 3, 1999

11:30 am

Dear Amane,

It's cold here.

Then again, maybe that is not the best place to start. I'm just confused, as I'm sure anyone in this sort of situation would be. It is a very odd predicament I am in, and I can't for the life of me remember what happened. The only reason I know the date is because of the clock that is on the end table beside the bed a couple feet away. That means something must have happened between now and yesterday, which is stating the obvious I know, but thinking this out is helping me stay calm.

Yugi-kun threw a party for me yesterday. It was nice, everyone was there. Pretty much all we went was to the arcade and then eat at Burger World. Everyone got me a little something. By the way, I left my present for you in the usual spot, I thought it was pretty and I know how much you like detailed wooden boxes. I even filled it with those candy necklaces you always ate. Anyway, that's around the time that everything else blanks out on me. I remember hanging out with Yugi-kun again afterward, he came over, and we went down to the park and walked, talking about the past, and how different life was for us now. Life has been pretty normal for us, ever since we…Again, that's not the point, and I'm sure you don't want your big brother to go on writing unimportant things.

I remember hearing a plane, it was rather far away. I also remember talking to Yugi about the news that day. It seems that no one is getting along politically. He and I both agreed that it was a shame. Life is wasted when people don't appreciate each other or their company. Then again I can't really talk; I've been feeling a bit wary of people ever since that incident with, well, you know. Anyhow, after that, I remember something really warm, I think it was windy, and then…I remember a wall. But that is where everything else is a bit fuzzy. After all of that, I remember waking up here, tightly tucked into the bed, my head aching. It still aches, but it isn't that bad.

At first I thought I might be at home, that I dreamt it all. Then I thought I might be in a hospital. It may have been three years ago, but I got pretty used to waking up in odd places, most of all hospitals for apparently passing out at random times. We all know the culprit of that too, and I was worried for a moment, somewhat worried anyway that he was back. But again I was wrong, as I think I would need the Millennium Ring for that to have happened, which I don't. It's at the bottom of a caved in pit for all I know. I got up to try the door, which was the next thing I noticed, considering it was the only one, but it was locked. I tried prying it open, I tried knocking and then banging on it, and after what seemed like forever, I tried kicking it. I think it's made out of metal, it sounds like it is anyway. The gray paint doesn't tell me much; it's just layered on so thickly that I can't feel if it's metal when I touch it.

Of course, after all of that, I began to panic. I couldn't really help it. I sat on the bed, trying to talk myself out of it, and forced myself to think of other things. That is when I noticed the room is all gray. The ceiling is gray, the walls are gray, and the carpet is gray. Even the sheets on the bed are gray. I don't get it. I understand liking a color, but why make everything that specific color, and why of all colors gray? If I hadn't held my hand up to my face and realized that my skin was still its normal color, I would have sworn that I was color blind. At least there is a slight difference in the shades of gray, but for all I know that could be a trick of the light coming from the window above the bed. It's small, I could probably get my arm through it if it was open, but that's all. I can't see out of it, so it's useless to me there. The glass is frosted and when I tapped it, it seemed to be that bullet proof kind. I wasn't about to punch it, as I don't even know if I could do that with regular glass. I wouldn't have anything to protect my hand with either, as the clothes I'm wearing are not my own. They're as flimsy feeling as hospital gowns, but they look like regular gray (for some reason I can just hear you laughing at my annoyance) pajamas. I'm sure that regular glass would have still slaughtered my hand.

Aside from the small window and the locked door, there seems to be no means of escape. It is a bit unnerving to not know what is going on or who put me in here. My last memories are of no help either, and it makes me worry for Yugi-kun… I don't know if he's here, outside, or safe back at home. I don't want to make you worried, but I am scared. If there hadn't been this notebook in the desk drawer…I'm sure I would be panicking far more than I am now. I'm going to have to wait to get this to you, but it could be worse. I think I'm going to look around the room again; there might be something I have missed.

Amane, I really wish you were with me right now. It would be nice to not be alone here. I have this bad feeling in my gut something has gone terribly wrong.

Love from your big brother,

Ryou

Tucking the pen in between the pages of the notebook with a shaking hand, he reviewed his letter and wondered if his sister would even be able to read it. It was quite a pathetic bit of handwriting, but he had needed to write it. He had been near tears after running around the room in a frenzy for two hours straight unable to find a way out. He did not mind that he was in the room, but the fact he did not know who put him there, or why the door was locked unnerved him to the very core. Wringing his hands, he walked over to the door again, and tugged on the handle as hard as he could. The lock clinked against the metal that held it in place and settled back with another when he let go. Running his fingers through his hair, he wobbled miserably back to the bed, defeated. Sitting down, he stared at the gray fibers of the floor, wishing that they would just catch on fire just to give the room some color. It would not bother him except for the fact that it was weird. The whole situation was weird, and he hated it. "I just can't catch a break can I?" he asked himself, yearning for some sort of noise that did not come from the ticking alarm clock at the side of his bed.

The truth was he was tired of looking for a way out. He had searched the room at least five times over, even going so far as to throw the notebook up at the ceiling to see if there was any way out before sitting down and writing to is sister. Whoever had made the room had not thought about how claustrophobic it could become. A mirror could have made the room more appealing, but there was none. He had looked for one when he had woken up because of his fear of being colorblind. In the end it would have been unnecessary, but it would still have made the room better looking.

The door rattled suddenly, and he jumped. He had not expected it to move, as it was quite heavy, and he doubted any wind could push it, if there were wind outside of the room. That would mean that there was a person behind it, and he had a mixed feeling of joy and trepidation as he heard the person on the other side fumbling with the lock. It almost sounded like they were using something other than a key. Within seconds the door swung open with ease (he almost wondered if he had imagined the weight) and as he looked up he saw…

Nothing.

Blinking in confusion, he looked away from the white wall in the hallway down to see if there was anyone at all in the doorway. A child with black hair down to their mid-back stared back at him with confused dark eyes. He wondered briefly of its gender, as it was adorable to no end for either but pushed the thought out of his mind, feeling a little perplexed. What was a child doing there and how did it open that door?

They said something he did not understand, and seemed to pause, waiting for an answer. He continued to watch the child as they came into the room. Oddly, their foot steps did not seem to make sound as they made their way to him. Curiosity filled black eyes stared straight into his own when they were about a yard's length from each other. It was unsettling, and he felt the urge to hold onto the bed sheets with an iron grip so as not to move. He felt like he was about to sink. The child's skin which was paler than his own (a feat within itself, or so he thought) made the contrast even more bizarre.

The child repeated what they had said, a little more clearly, but not any more comprehensible to his ears. He shook his head and said, "I'm sorry, I don't understand you." He only hoped the child would lead him to an adult, or better yet, understand him.

The child placed their hands together and interlaced its fingers. It was an adorable pose, one that many children took, while fidgeting, when they were going to ask a question or a favor. This child did not fidget, but its hands spoke for him. Continuing to look at him with a confidence he had not seen in any child before, they shrugged. "Oh, I suppose I should have known," it was an odd statement, or so he thought, "Who are you? I've never seen you before, are you new? How did you come to be in here?"

He was in awe; the child had spoken without error, without a hint of an accent of another language, in perfect Japanese. By how the child had referred to itself, he finally figured that it was a boy, although his clothes which were unusually neat for a child were a little feminine. That or they were just very elaborate. Unsure of which question to answer first, he finally decided on answering them in order. "My name is Bakura Ryou; I am from Domino City, Japan."

"Bakura Ryou…is that last name first then first name, or first name and then last?"

"Uh…last and then first," he replied.

"Oh, well, I suppose that I must call you Mr. Bakura?"

"If you want to…"

"Father would want me to be polite, so Mr. Bakura, oh…that's English though."

Bakura smiled, it seemed the boy was trying very hard to remember his formalities. "It's okay, you can just call me Bakura if you would like, or Ryou if it is easier for the first name."

"I will call you Bakura. I won't use Mr. but I won't use your first name, that way it can be more polite."

"What ever you'd like," he answered, "so what is your name?"

"Oh, it's D-"