A/N It's been several years since I watched Yu-Gi-Oh! and therefore my canon details may not be up to snuff; I also watched the Japanese version so I will use the Japanese names.
This story is placed 5 years after the final battle and is largely told from Bakura's perspective, though it is in 3rd person. I have plans for a large portion of this story to be based around Bakura and Marik dealing with Marik's other personality and rated T Thiefshipping, just as a heads up.

The silenced news program playing at the local department store informed him that roughly five years had passed since he had last found himself roaming the streets of Domino, Japan. He wandered through the aisles without much rhyme or reason, looking just to kill time more than anything. Upon leaving the store, he shot a disingenuous smile at the clearly underpaid security guard keeping watch for petty thieves or other hooligans. Once outside, he pulled an apple out of his pocket and took a bite; it was too easy to get supplies around here, though he wasn't complaining. He had enough on his mind to deal with any escape theatrics over something as meaningless as breakfast. One glance at his cheap, prepaid phone to check the time made him sigh; it was hardly even noon. The bastard wouldn't be home from work until at least four.

He settled for his second favorite hobby – people watching. Sitting down at an empty park bench that had seen better days, he took the final bite of his apple and threw the core over his shoulder. A child ran by him, playing with a toy airplane as another pursued her, insisting her turn was done and she had to share. An older man in athletic attire jogged by, wheezing slightly from lack of breath. Countless others passed him, paying no mind to his presence. Impressive how little had changed, he thought, that he was unleashed on the world again and it made no effect on anyone. He allowed his mind to wander. Did his old enemy get the same second chance at life, was this even the same world he left, or some cruel trick designed by the gods, and was he to discover there was nothing left for him here – not that there was much in the first place. Not anymore, his job was done and he had failed.

Pulling himself out from his thoughts, he smirked slightly as a familiar figure walked by, talking animatedly to the woman accompanying him, completely oblivious to the world around them. The silver-haired boy beamed at his partner, something about how she'd done well on her midterm in chemistry. Or something. He didn't particularly care about their conversation; enough was said in their body language. The way they smiled at each other and their hands brushed swiftly conveyed they were dating. The eavesdropper went unnoticed as the pair continued on their path through the park as they had every day for the last four days.

Impressive how he could have missed seeing his own body looking back at him. Pathetic kid, really, nothing has changed. Absolutely anyone should notice that much. It's not like he didn't stand out.

The boy, an exact clone of the person who'd just walked by, stood up with an annoyed sigh. He'd been back in the city for several days now and scoped out how his old landlord and partner in crime were doing, needing some information on their going-ons as of late considering how long he'd been gone. Some would call it stalking, but Bakura didn't. Stalking implied an obsession, which was much too unbecoming - he considered it simple observation.

Enough time had passed and Bakura grew bored, deciding now would be a great time to pay his old friend a visit.

Knock knock

The albino tapped his knuckles against the door.

No response. He sighed.

Knock knock

Harder this time.

Growing irritated, Bakura briefly wondered if the apartment was unoccupied before raising his hand to beat against the door again. He stopped short as he finally heard movement on the other side. Two locks slid before the door was hesitantly opened.

Marik held Bakura's gaze for approximately five seconds before slamming the door in his face.

Bakura chuckled as his foot held the door slightly ajar, "That's no way to treat your old partner, is it?"

The Egyptian growled through the cracked door, "Fuck off, Bakura, shouldn't you be dead?"

"Yes."

"Then piss off. I've rather enjoyed not having you around bothering me."

"Pity." The albino narrowed his eyes and forced his way through the door.

Marik simply glared at the other man as he was forced to step back from the doorway. Having decided not to get into a physical altercation with the home invader, he turned and walked back to the kitchen to continue preparing his dinner. "How'd you find me?"

"You act like you're hard to find," Bakura snorted. He leaned against the far wall from where Marik stood in the kitchen. It was true Marik stood out amongst his peers with his tanned skin and light blond hair; he didn't look in the least bit Japanese. He was a clear outsider. Not to mention the dramatic gold jewelry he often wore.

"I am. I changed my name and moved."

"Changed your name?" a silver eyebrow rose, "Why in the hell would you do that? You stand out; I doubt you can hide yourself that easily from anyone."

Marik moved a pan between burners a bit too aggressively, causing him to pause a moment to check for any damage, "I'm a wanted criminal, Bakura, you know that. They still haven't found the leader of the Ghouls."

Bakura chuckled, "That still doesn't answer my question, Ishtar."

Several moments passed as Marik chopped a few vegetables and added them to the pan, "My face was never revealed, only my name. Easy fix. The police are a joke around here."

"Any intelligent criminal would skip town." That earned another glare.

"I stuck around to keep an eye on Ryou."

Bakura rolled his eyes, though the tan boy did not see. There was silence as Marik finished cooking and poured the food onto two plates. He set the second across the table from him before seating himself and beginning to eat.

"I don't eat vegetables," Bakura grumbled slightly as he joined Marik at the table. There wasn't any response, so he begrudgingly picked up a set of chopsticks and took a bite. It was edible, to say the least.

Several minutes passed. "I'm assuming you've been back a while if you're hungry enough to eat that." The two locked eyes for a brief second, Bakura debating how much information he was willing to offer.

"It's been just over two weeks," Bakura answered before shoving another bite of zucchini stuffed with rice into his mouth, "had to fly here from Egypt."

Marik nodded slightly and the silence returned. It wasn't an awkward silence by any means and Bakura appreciated how little he was questioned, all things considered. It was much Marik's way to never interrogate him, his partner understood what it was like to not want to offer up every piece of information. That was one of the reasons they could get along.

"I did die," Bakura continued, "when the items were destroyed - you know that much. It seems I was too much of a bother to the gods; they didn't know what to do with me." He paused to chuckle darkly, "and they seem to have quite the sense of humor, putting me back in an identical body to my old landlord."

Marik set his chopsticks down and rested his forehead against a loose fist, clearly distraught. Bakura smirked slightly as he continued to eat. That would be quite the surprise to hear; he'd wait for Marik to process it. The boy could be quite slow sometimes.

"You aren't possessing Ryou anymore, then?" the blond mumbled into his shoulder.

"Nope, the little brat's completely fine. He doesn't even know I'm here."

Marik hummed slightly in disbelief as he reached for his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping at the screen briefly before raising it to his ear. Bakura met his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, hi, Ryou. I was calling to check if you were free this weekend, your midterms are this week, right?" Marik's voice was clearly strained with fake friendliness to cover the shock that quickly crossed his features. He was surprised Ryou answered.

Bakura couldn't make out what the voice said on the other line, only hearing a slight mumble of a too familiar voice. He picked at the food in front of him as he wasn't starving anymore and therefore couldn't make himself continue to eat. Marik's vegetarian diet was very lackluster, in Bakura's opinion.

"Of course, you did tell me that. Sorry, Ryou, it must have slipped my mind," Bakura rolled his eyes and tapped his wrist as if to say 'hurry up,' "Sorry to cut this short, Ryou, but I need to finish cooking. Yeah. No, it's okay. Have a good night."

"Told you."

"I don't make it a habit to trust thieves at their word," Marik set his phone down a bit too harshly and began eating again. Bakura simply smirked at the pointed comment.

"You haven't changed in 5 years at all, have you," Bakura leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"I have," Marik glared at the revived demon in front of him, "I've made an honest living for myself; I'm not the same." He balled his hands into fists when Bakura snorted.

"You're playing Namu, huh? We both know that's not who you are. You're as much a manipulative murderer as I am."

"It is me, Bakura," Marik stood from the table and scraped the remainder of his meal into the trash before turning back to look at the smug thief still sitting at his table, "Legally, my name is Namu Kurata, I'm a motorcycle mechanic – the head mechanic at my shop, in fact - and," he trailed off for a second as his he wasn't sure he wanted to continue his thought, "…and I'm working on the multiple personality thing. I'm done being a criminal, I had my fun."

Bakura blinked several times, funnily enough acting more surprised than Marik did learning of his resurrection of sorts. He knew from his observations Marik's alias and job already but was surprised he willing brought up his other personality. He used to act like his other self never existed. What did 'working on' even mean? Was that psychotic bastard bothering him again? Surely not, this was definitely Marik sitting in front of him. Marik was like Ryou, neither had the power to take their bodies back from the other soul inside of them. "…I refuse to call you that," he finally said, referring to the alias.

"So long as you don't use my real name in public, I don't care" the Egyptian shrugged and grabbed Bakura's plate, clearing it in the trash before heading to the sink to begin working on the dishes.

Bakura watched him silently, having picked up on the underlying message in that sentence; Marik would let him stick around if he didn't mess up the boy's reputation.

"Well, I'm tired," Marik announced as he wiped his hands off on a towel, "I'm going to bed." He paused briefly before turning to fully face Bakura with a faint smile that lasted just a second, "Good to see you again, partner. You can have the room to the right. It's the guest room, but I don't have many visitors."

Bakura nodded at him, glancing where Marik gestured, "…'Preciate it, Ishtar."