Dreams of a Distant Past

By: Asagi Tsuki

The first of a trilogy. In this fic, I will use Akefia as Bakura's past. Bakura's surname would be Akefia as well, and Ryou will still be Ryou Bakura. Ryou's past will be Riya. No comment no protest.

Just so there is no complication, this story is set in Sydney, Australia, not Japan or any other country.

Summary: Bakura is a normal popular high school student who is also the captain of the basketball team. Well, at least until a boy whose surname is the same as his first name appeared in his class

Warning: AU, OOCness, OCs (not major characters though), shounen ai and such

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!

The Start of Something New

Bakura stood in his room, more precisely in front of a full-body mirror attached to the door of his wardrobe, grinning as he checked himself out with an appreciative look that made him look like a deranged freak. He was dressed in a tight-fitting black leather pants that was sure had shrunk down a size or two, courtesy of his mother, and dark blue clothes that fit snugly to his body. He wore a hooded-jacket that was zipped up to his abdomen over his clothes, slightly showing off his chest and collar bone.

"Bakura! If you have finished ogling yourself like a pervert, come down and have breakfast! The school starts in an hour, you know!" a deep, high-pitched voice resonated from downstairs as the owner scolded him and Bakura unwillingly tore his gaze from his reflection on the mirror. He didn't like being accused of being a pervert, however true it may seem.

"I'll be right there after I smooth my hair down!" he replied and turned back to the mirror, taking a medium-sized wooden brush from his bedside table and set out on brushing his hair. For anyone, the statement would seem normal, but not for Bakura. His wild white locks seemed to defy the very law of gravity.

"What!?" came the muffled disbelieving cry from downstairs that managed to get through the thick wooden door of his room. He had specifically requested his door to be thick so he could still sleep while the others were having parties in the den, but it seemed that his mother's voice was louder than three speakers put on max volume.

"You know that it's impossible! Have you not seen what happened to the brushes you used to smooth your hair down!? They all went straight to the recycling plant!" was the added reply.

Bakura ignored the remark pointedly and continued brushing his hair. Of course he had learned from his previous mistakes, so he no longer put so much force onto the brush, for fear of what would happen to it and his hair. He managed to set a record on breaking three brushes in a week, and what's worse, he seemed to have a serious case of bed head every time he got up. How he wished he could just go and chop his hair.

Yes, he wished. He couldn't just go and chop his hair because his mother decided that cutting hair is a form of sacrilege unless it was done near New Year (and she event dared t accuse him of being superstitious!) and so, he had to wait until New Year, which was still a good six months away. He wanted to scream in frustration, he really did, because his mother always found a reason for him not to cut his hair. It appeared that his mother was fascinated by his wild locks that flew everywhere. She thought it was amusing, like a sun in a little kid's drawing, only it was white and not yellow.

He put down the brush after his hair had flattened down considerably although they were still projecting everywhere as if he had been electrocuted and took his backpack from his bed. He did a double check to make sure everything he needed for today was in the bag before he rushed down the stairs.

"Finally!" a woman in her early forties exclaimed as she huffed and positioned her hands on her hips. "You act like a woman, spending a lot of time in front of a mirror," she added as she walked back to the kitchen to retrieve the pancakes she had made for breakfast earlier.

"Yeah, well, you spent more time than I did," Bakura shrugged as he slipped into the seat and took a plate along with a fork. He waited for the pancakes to be passed to him before he poured a substantial amount of maple syrup onto them, getting his mother to wince at the sight and comment on how he was going to suffer from diabetes later on.

"Eat up," she sighed and sat down as well. "The Ishtar twins came over earlier, but when they knew that you were still in your room admiring yourself narcissistically, they went to school first," she commented as she slowly took off her apron and folded it neatly before placing it atop the dining table.

"I didn't admire myself! I was checking if I look alright!" Bakura cried out indignantly but didn't stop eating his share of pancakes. She was always amazed at the fact that he never choked but decided that it was just a special talent he was born with. He bit the round cake and let the syrup dribble down slightly. He had never bothered himself to cut the pancakes to small pieces before devouring them. It was time and energy-consuming.

"When have you ever looked not okay, dear?" his mother asked as she patted his head softly, a small smile etched on her motherly face. "Now go and get ready. You know you don't want to be late on your first day in the senior year, right?" she asked teasingly and laughed afterwards.

Bakura huffed again and quickly finished his pancakes off. After he finished, he raced towards his skate board and made a grab for it quickly. "I'll see you in the evening!" he shouted out as he rushed out of their cozy two-story house and down the steps. As soon as he was down the steps, he let his board fall and got onto it, racing towards his school which really wasn't far away from his house that he needed to go on a bus.

"St. Peter High, here I come!"

And with that war cry—shout, I mean—he was off to his high school.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Bakura! You are finally here!" a boy shouted excitedly as he ran over to where Bakura stood. Hot on his trails was another boy who looked exactly like him. They have sandy blond hair—or platinum blond, as they liked to call it with the excuse that platinum are worth a lot more than sand—and tanned skin. "You take hours just to get ready for school, don't you?" he asked as he nudged Bakura teasingly.

The following boy snickered and leaned on the locker beside Bakura's, which door was still held open as Bakura stored his skateboard inside and took out a few notebooks he'd need for the first few classes he had before lunch break that day.

"I really didn't take that long," Bakura grunted as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and shut the locker door. The twins merely laughed louder at that. "Anyway, are you going to the homeroom with me or not? I don't want to be late," he added nonchalantly and the three walked together to their classroom.

They had been friends since their freshman year in the school. They met each other first during the selection of new members for the basketball team. The three of them were the most promising freshman players and they had become good friends after a while. They were even dubbed "The Three Musketeers" by some friends of theirs since they stayed together at most time.

"Wanna go get a grab after school?" Malik asked as he slung his arm over Bakura's shoulder. "It's on us," he added, grinning a little at Bakura, knowing full well that he would never let an opportunity to get free food pass.

"Fine. You guys are crazy," Bakura sighed but didn't protest as Marik slung his arm over his shoulder as well, just from the other opposite direction of Malik. "Oh right, Malik, what subjects are you taking this year?" he asked absently, looking at his schedule that was given by the secretary two days ago.

"Looking at your schedule, I'll say that we have homeroom, Language Arts, Chemistry, Calculus, Physics, Mathematics, and Biology together," Malik shrugged a little after he peered at Bakura's schedule. "Which actually are all your classes. Oh, and Marik's taking the same classes."

"You could shorten it down and make it simple by saying that you have same classes as I do, you know," Bakura commented sarcastically as he swatted Marik's hand away, much to his protest. "Have you decided which university you will attend, though?" he asked again and Malik raised an eyebrow at him.

"Since when are you concerned about your future?" Malik asked, mildly amused at the fact that Bakura was considering which university he would attend, seeing that the boy did nothing but pull pranks during his previous three years in high school. It was a miracle that the three hadn't been kicked out of the school yet, really.

"I'm offended," Bakura snorted and swatted Malik's hand away as well, to Marik's delight. If he couldn't do something, then Malik wasn't allowed to do it as well. "I was just asking, since I thought I wanted to be in the same university as you guys."

"Oh 'Kura! I'm flattered! I didn't know you loved me so!" Malik sighed happily as he latched himself to Michael and everyone in the corridor that they passed by looked at them before pretending they didn't see anything at all. Bakura was trying his hardest to push Malik away while juggling his bag and books at the same time. "Well, I think we'll be attending the one near this school," Malik added excitedly.

"I see. Now get off," Bakura stated as he pushed Malik away again, who reluctantly let go. They walked in a triangle formation with Bakura in front to the class. As soon as they entered the room, they got the seat near the window to themselves. Bakura sat at the second to last row near the window and Malik sat beside him. Marik sat behind Malik and left the seat behind Bakura empty as no one dared to sit near them.

The three were the most popular boys in the sports department and everyone in the school knew that fact. They excelled in sports and brought the basketball team to the Nationals last year. A lot of girls pined for them, but none was brave enough to actually make a move on them. They knew what the popular girls would do to them if they even thought of flirting with the boys.

The seats around them were nearly empty as well, but since there were students who hadn't got their seats yet, they were forced to sit around the boys, but still leaving the single seat empty. Now that the seats were all filled in, the one who would sit there would be a late student, or a transfer student.

"I wonder if anyone is going to sit there," Malik commented as he looked at the seat behind Bakura with bored eyes. He took a pencil and doodled on a scrap of paper. It was a habit of his whenever he was bored while waiting for something to happen. "No one sat there last year," he added, remembering what happened lat year.

A new transfer girl who didn't know anything about them sat there and since then, no one had dared to sit there. Let's just say that the popular girls were a lot meaner than they look. If they could be meaner than they look, really.

"Dunno," Bakura shrugged absent-mindedly then slumped forward and rested his head on his folded arms on his desk. "Don't care either, really. But it'll surely be nice to have someone to talk to other than you two lunatics."

"I'm not going to say I'm offended," Malik grinned as he looked at the empty seat yet again. "However, I am forced to agree. It'll be good to have someone to talk to, and not those boring girls who like to flirt all the time."

"See my point?" Bakura asked as he grinned evilly. "If we do have someone to talk to, you don't have to treat that person, really," he said and looked over at Malik who still grinned at him. "Though I think you wouldn't mind spending some more cash on the new person."

"Oh, now I'm offended," Malik said, though he soon cackled maniacally and Bakura could feel beads of sweat forming at the back of his head at his friend's strange antics. He really should consider taking the twins to the nearest mental asylum as soon as possible. They were never in their right mind.

The door to the class slowly slid open and the students turned to look. A middle-aged man stepped into the classroom, followed by a boy their age (of course he would be their age, considering they were in the same year) who suspiciously looked a lot like Bakura, only his hair was a lot tamer.

"Class, allow me to introduce a new friend to you," their homeroom teacher cleared his threat. "This is Ryou Bakura, a transfer student from London, England," he stated as he motioned to the boy who smiled slightly and bowed at them. "Be nice to him. The head of the Student Council would be the one to take him around the school grounds."

The students of the class stayed silent as they worked out the enigma of Ryou's gender. Some knew right away for a fact that he is a boy, but someone took longer to comprehend it.

"Now, you can sit in the last empty seat, right behind Mr. Akefia," the teacher pointed to the remaining empty seat and Ryou walked over to the seat, carrying his backpack carefully as he waved through the small pathway created between two seats.

He finally arrived at said seat and plopped himself down, making himself comfortable. He then noticed that everyone was staring at him and he briefly wondered why.

He looked at the three and smiled slightly. "Nice to meet you."

And since then, Bakura and Malik decided not to let their mouths get the best of them and say ridiculous things. Simply put, they decided to shut their mouth up.

And Something Strange

That's it for the first chapter. Hope you enjoy it.