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If anyone were to ask an average Domino High student what they thought of Bakura Ryou, there'd be a huge difference in opinion, depending on who you asked. His fangirls would call him sweet and shy, the jealous boys would call him a “pretty-boy”, and his teachers would say he needed to speak up a bit more. Of course, one thing that none of these people would describe him as was “unnerving”.
At least, until one week in July, when everyone else was just starting to feel the anticipation for summer vacation, coupled with the crushing pressure to study. (The pressure was so intense that one girl, Nosaka Miho, actually broke down sobbing from the stress.)
When the month started, Bakura was his usual quiet, unflappable self. However, as the weeks drew on, he started acting..... different. The change wasn't gradual, either. No, one day he was fine, and the next...
Well. Let's just say that the differences started at his appearance, and just got worse from there. His hair, usually kept neatly combed, was wild, sticking out at odd angles like he'd stuck a fork in an electrical socket. The bags under his eyes were huge, augmented by dark circles the color of coal. His eyes were wide, alight with some kind of manic glint, and he kept twitching.
Suddenly, Bakura Ryou was very, very unnerving.
It got to the point where Mutou Yuugi and his friends began conversing in harsh whispers, glancing over at Bakura every few seconds, as if to make sure he wasn't eavesdropping. Finally, they seemed to come to a consensus, sending Yuugi over to Bakura’s desk. He simultaneously had the air of someone facing execution, and someone approaching a rabid tiger.
“B-Bakura-kun?”
“Hm? Oh, Yuugi? What is it?” Bakura twitched slightly, and his eyes kept darting to the clock. Yuugi wrung his hands together, shifting his weight nervously.
“U-um, well.... Are you okay...?” Bakura laughed, just this side of too loud, too crazed.
“Yuugi I haven't slept more than an hour in three days, I poured two Red Bulls into my coffee this morning, and I've started to dream of parabolas. ‘Okay’ is the last thing I am.” He glanced at the clock again, running one hand through his tangled mass of hair. “If that's all, I really have to get back to studying.”