Alright, this will be my second Yugioh fic! this is pretty much a Malik-centric fic...

Malik: (grins) Yes!

(rolls eyes) I decided to indulge his ego just this once...This fic is just something i came up with in my Social Studies class...n.n i hope you enjoy it! Ryou, disclaimers please.

Ryou: Kakarika doesn't, and won't ever own Yugioh. No matter how badley she wished she could. (smiles)

(teary eyes) You don't have to rub it in...(hits Bakura)

Bakura: (glares) What the hell did i do?

I can't hit Ryou, so I blame you for being a bad influence.

Malik: nn this story is in my POV, which means i get to write it!

yes...and i may regret that...

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Ages:

Malik: 19

Ryou: 18

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I glanced around the small room. It resembled the room I had when I was a child inside the tomb of the unknown pharaoh, only the walls were made of solid gold instead of the black stone I was accustomed to. Looking around, I began remembering my morbid childhood. The shelves where the ancient scrolls were kept was made of fine oak instead of the rotting wood I was used to. As I reached out to grab one of the scrolls to see if they were the same ones I read before, the chilling scream of a child broke through the eerie silence. The sound was faint, yet it was like an icy gale crashing through my soul. My hand dropped to my side and with a growing dread I turned and rantowards teh source of the screams. As I made my way down the winding corridors, I felt my heart ice over as I realized where the screams were comming from. I stopped in front of a door, the child's screams now sounded cracked and broken, the icy gale in my soul started to show in my eyes. As I slowly pushed open the door leading to the initiation room, I knew that I could have been mistaken for my yami, with how my eyes were clouded with malice and bloodlust. I knew what was happening in the room I was about to enter. Another child was being put through the same thing I had to endure seven years ago. Upon entering the room, I froze at the sight before me, it was not what I had expected. A small boy, no older than five or six, with sandy blond hair that stuck out in all directions, was laying on his stomach, tears mixing with sweat and blood as he screamed for the pain to stop. A woman was standing next to the stone table, emontionlessly carving hyrogliphics, which were so much more complex than the ones marring my back, into the child's tender skin. Blood covered his entire back, the table, and dripped onto the floor. I suddenly felt a boiling hatred forming inside of me, hatred for this woman who was creuler even than my own father. As the knife carved the final symbol into the child's lower back, the woman walked past me out of the room, dropping the bloodied dagger next to the door. My gaze traveled to the child's face. His screams had subsided and his breathing was ragged. Just as my hand slowly reached out to wipe the tears from his face, his eyes opened and his gaze burned through my soul. I recoiled back as I recognized thoes eyes. They were the same icy violet eyes which had been haunting my nightmares since Battle City. One word escaped my lips before everything went blank.

"Mariku..."

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My eyes shot open and I found myself staring at my lavender ceiling. I sighed as I wiped sweat away from my brow. Rolling onto my side I let out a hallow laugh.

"That damned dream again..." I glanced over at my bedside clock. "Five thrity...Well, at least tonight I managed to get a good three hours of sleep."

I had been having that same dream for the past six months. The dream was always the same. I would be standing in what looked like my old bedroom how it must have looked when it was first build. Then the screaming would start, and I would follow them to a child form of my yami. Until now, I had always believed that my yami was created by my bitterness and hatred towards my father. But these dreams pointed to another conclusion. Maybe Mariku's malice, bitterness, hatred, sadness and homicidic nature wasn't because of me, but because he had his own demons in the past. The more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that Mariku wasn't something I created, he was a spirit just like Bakura and the Pharaoh. Sitting up in my bed, I decided that I needed to know the truth about my yami. While getting dressed, I figured the first place to start looking would be in Japan. More specifically, Bakura Ryou's house. Mariku may have been banished to the Shadow Realm three years ago, but Bakura has only been gone for almost a year now.

"Maybe Ryou got some information about the theif's past that could prove my theory about Mariku's past..."

Pulling my shirt over my head, I looked into my full length mirrow and was shocked at what I saw. I had subconciously put on the clothes Mariku wore durring Battle City. As I stared at my reflection, a humorless grin made its way onto my face. "I guess I miss him more than i let myself believe. I was tweleve when I met him and sixteen when he was banished. Now here I am, and pathetic nineteen-year-old who lives with his older siblings in a small house next to the Nile, searching for the past of a man who almost killed me."

The more I gazed at my refection, the more I missed him. I walked over to my closet and pulled out my dark purple cloak. Hesitating for only a second, I put it on. When I looked back at the mirror, my heart stopped and my breath hitched. The figure looking back at me was not my reflection, it was Mariku. With his icy eyes, spikey hair, and muscular frame, he smirked back at me with a knowing look in his eyes before the image flickered back to my reflection. I stared shellshocked at my mirror for a few minutes, waiting to see if he appeared again. With no sign of my yami returning, I grabbed my motocycle keys out from under my pillow and jumped through the open window. Starting up my bike, I sped off towards the closest airport.

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Malik: (grins) Well, did I do a good job?

n.n I think so. (turns to readers) Well? What do you think of this story? Should we continue this fic? Please tell us what you think!