Ryou Bakura wakes up, just like a normal boy. He turns off the alarm with a snort and sits up, white hair a mess and no Egyptian ring dangling from his neck. He walks to the mirror, stifling a yawn, and blinks at his reflection. His own brown eyes come into focus, staring back at him with some kind of anxious expectancy. After a while, his expression settles for something calmer - though, to the discerning eye, it would seem more like disappointment.
Ryou Bakura looks like a normal boy, but he is not. He has not even been close to the definition of 'normal' for years. He thinks that he is getting there, though. He was used to waking up and seeing the shadow of another person - another conscience - shifting in the brown depths of his eyes. That is gone now. It is gone, along with the Millennium Ring and that voice and that ever-burning rage. He looks in the mirror every day, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of it somewhere in his irises, but it's not there anymore. He's not there anymore. So that must mean he's getting back to normal.
And he hates it. He doesn't want to admit it, but he hates it.
His mornings are that of a normal boy. Walking to Domino High. Dozing off during math class. Eating with the others at the cafeteria - pretty standard things.
The rest of the day is never that of a normal boy. Empty apartment that he hasn't cleaned in a while. Writing letters to a long-dead sister. Storing said letters to a box. Vodka for dinner.
He prefers vodka because it has no distinct flavor. It just burns down his throat in a semblance of feeling. Then he just sits and stares at his own shadow against the wall, the colorless figure swimming before his drunk eyes. Almost as if it's moving on its own. Almost as if it's someone else. That's when the first trace of a real smile cracks on his face. He raises a trembling hand to rummage at his hair; he looks back at his shadow and his smile broadens.
He stays there staring at it until he falls asleep, sprawled on the cold floor, half-empty glass dripping its contents on the tiles. He wakes up with a neck and a head that hurts, and with heavy eyelids that no longer conceal the stirring of another conscience.
He pops an aspirin and walks to Domino High. He dozes off during math class.