Hello everyone! It seems only two brave souls are daring enough to review. (mutters about unfaithfulness and such) Anyhoo, I'd like to state that I do accept and read criticism. I'm very flexible with such. (not like that you perverts. Sheesh) I, like most authors, accept constructive criticism. If, however, you just want to insult me: Go fuck off!...heh. That was fun.

I have an extremely loyal and eager fan that's been reviewing tons. Satra-chan, I shall dedicate this chapter to you! You appreciate me, I appreciate you. This is going to be an awesome relationship!…if you can call it that. (shrugs)

I'd like to inform you all that I've just started writing chapter 12. No your eyes do not deceive you; chapter TWELVE, baby! Ahem….

It's going to be getting quite graphic. There have been some killings. (hehe)…

Now don't you people go worrying about that Yet. No need to get the adrenaline pumping, dearies. Don't worry, you'll be fine. (hides crossed fingers behind back)

Now I did state that I would start putting some of my poetry up before the chapters. I'm actually writing poems specifically for this story now. I'm already planning another story, but I won't be starting that for some time. I'm still deciding whether I should make this story super long or if it should have a sequel….I'm leaning towards sequel right now. Tell me what you think. Tell me about the bloody weather for all I care, just review! -- umm…that didn't sound too desperate….

The poem, if you can't guess, is from Yami's point of view…

Opposites

He wants to forget,

I want to recall.

He dreads my questions

And won't speak at all.

He smothers his memories,

I dig for the truth.

He blows out the candles,

I ponder my youth.

He pleads to forget,

I beg to remember.

He flees from the sorrow,

I search for the tender.

He chokes on the blood,

I yearn for the sweet.

He shrieks in the shadows,

I refuse to retreat.

Chapter 4: The Package

"Whoa! Where'd that come from?" Yugi exclaimed as Mr. Mutou sat a large cardboard box down on the coffee table.

"It arrived this morning after you boys left for school," Mr. Mutou smiled.

"It hasn't been opened yet," Yami realized, pointing at the tape.

"It's from my friend Arthur. He's in Egypt at the moment," Mr. Mutou finished saying this by glancing at Yami.

The former pharaoh remained silent, staring at the package in front of him. He was unconsciously digging his fingers into the cushions of the couch. 'It probably won't help. Don't get your hopes up,' he told himself, clenching his jaw.

"Well then…" Mr. Mutou took out his pocket knife and cut through the tape. He pulled out a bundle wrapped in brown paper. A letter was taped to it.

"Hmm…let's see what Arthur has to say," he opened the envelope.

"Dear Solomon,

I hope this letter finds you well. I found this while on a dig deep in what appears to be an ancient city. Excavation is slow, only having begun a few months ago, so not much is known about the place yet. I informed my companions of the extensive knowledge you have of ancient Egypt. They agreed to have you study it. We haven't been able to open it. Contact us if you figure anything out.

Your dear friend,

Arthur"

"Sounds pretty cool," Yugi's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Yami, would you like to do the honors?" Mr. Mutou smiled, beckoning the spirit to the package.

Yami's mouth was completely dry. He could not tear his gaze from the package. He quickly shook his head in fast, jerking motions. Solomon nodded understandingly and began to carefully un-wrap the paper.

"Oh my…"

Jou sighed dejectedly as he left the school. It was almost dusk. The chores he'd been assigned to as a detention had taken longer than usual. Now he had to wander home alone.

'Don't worry. Just get home. Just get home.'

He walked quickly down the darkening road. The street lamps were coming on. Glancing around nervously, Jou picked up his pace a bit more. Sensing another presence, he spun around.

"Well look who it is: Blondie," a slightly older boy sneered, appearing from a nearby alley.

Jou tensed. He clenched his fists as five more boys appeared. He knew them well. They were rivals of the gang Jou and Honda had once been members of.

"Torrda." Jou replied glancing at the other boy.

"Out a bit late, aren't we? Where's Spike?" Torrda referred to Honda. "Don't tell me you two had a spat?"

The other boys chuckled, eyeing Jou like a piece of meat.

"No."

Torrda smirked, an evil glint in his eyes. "Then why don't we walk you home…" he said smoothly, draping a muscular arm around Jou's shoulders.

Jou tensed his muscles ready. He could feel perspiration on his forehead. The arm around his shoulders dropped to his waist and tightened. Jou scrunched his nose in disgust. The older teen reeked of alcohol, sweat, and unwashed body.

"Don't you worry. We'll take you home to mummy and daddy. Just point us in the right direction," Torrda whispered in his ear.

Jou remained silent. He didn't move. Only his brown eyes darted about, looking desperately for an escape.

"You know, we should see more of each other," the taller boy continued, digging his fingers into Jou's ribs. Jou bit his lip. "….and you could bring some of your friends. We would love to get acquainted with those little…" Torrda fell back in a gasping cough as Jou's elbow went hurdling into his gut.

The other boys growled in fury as they steadied their leader. Torrda regained himself, snarling. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the retreating figure.

"Until later, Blondie!" he called.

"Should we chase him?" one of his companions smirked, flipping the knife in his hands.

"No. We'll be seeing him again…soon." Torrda sneered as the figure disappeared into the shadows.

"Whoa," Yugi said softly.

"What kind of book is this? I've never seen anything quite like it before…" Mr. Mutou whispered staring at the large volume in his hands.

It looked like gold. Hieroglyphs were carved over the cover, front and back.

"May…may I?" Yami's voice cracked slightly as he spoke.

His hands trembled as he took the book. His brow creased as he studied the markings. Gently, he let his fingers trail over the cover.

"This…seems familiar," Yami murmured to himself.

Yugi's violet eyes widened in shock. Mr. Mutou sat silently. His face remained calm, but his eyes were bright and alert.

"Can you read it, Yami?" Yugi whispered nervously.

The room was quiet for a few minutes. Yami's eyes traveled up and down the volume. His fingers were turning red because of the grip he had on the book.

"Yes…yes…it takes me a while. I'm starting to remember this…" Yami's eyes danced with excitement.

"Do you know what the book was for?" Mr. Mutou smiled.

"Well…it looks like a book of incantations of some sort," Yami peered intently at the hieroglyphs.

"Mmm. You don't put just anything into a solid gold book," Mr. Mutou agreed.

"What? Gold! This must have been some pretty important information!" Yugi grinned, staring wide-eyed at the book in Yami's lap.

"Indeed," Yami's mind wandered.

"So how do we open it?" Yugi plopped down next to his darker half.

"That will take some time to figure out," Yami replied, still squinting.

"I agree. There's no spot for a key or anything," Mr. Mutou nodded.

"Maybe there's a magic seal on it," Yami suggested, handing the book into Yugi's eager hands.

"Whoa! It's heavy!"

"Most gold objects are, as you know, hikari," Yami chuckled, motioning to the puzzle around is own neck.

"Well I don't understand these markings here," Mr. Mutou stated, running a finger over said markings.

"I don't recognize them either," Yami sighed.

"Well we've got plenty of time to figure it out," Yugi laughed. "You two are going to be obsessed with that thing; I can tell. I'm going to do my homework now."

The both nodded absentmindedly, still staring at the book. Yugi shook his head, a smile gracing his features, and ascended the stairs. The clock in the kitchen chimed, causing the pair to jump.

"Well, it's eight. I'd better go and wash those dishes," Mr. Mutou yawned, standing and stretching.

"Mmm…" Yami responded, eyes still locked on the golden volume. Mr. Mutou wandered to the kitchen.

'Could this hold the answers I'm seeking? It's almost too coincidental that this book arrives after all these dreams I've been plagued by. I have to figure out how to open it! I need to uncover the secrets of my past….well…my past in general,' Yami smiled humorously.

He slowly traced the curves and arches of the carved symbols. Sighing deeply, Yami sat back, eyes still fixed on the object of his obsession. The reflections of the lamplight danced on the golden words like wisps of fire. The ancient monarch could not tear his eyes away from it. Dark violet shimmered brightly in the dimness of the room. He didn't know who he was. At that moment he made a promise to himself that he'd use whatever means necessary to recover his past.

Marik threw his head back and laughed as he sped down the darkened streets. He sat mounted on his brightly shined motorcycle. Strands of his golden blond hair stuck out of his helmet, lashing about in the wind. He glanced about the streets where a few other vehicles were roaming.

Suddenly, the sound of a speeding motor pounded in his ears. Grinning sadistically, Marik stopped and turned to see a motor bike racing at full speed in his direction from a side street. The rider had a black helmet on, bike blood red. Wisps of spiky, white hair were visible from under the helmet.

Marik tensed as the bike came to a sweeping halt only inches from his own bike. Dust and leaves blew up into his face. Glaring, Marik flipped up the visor of his helmet.

"Darn you, Kura! I just polished this thing!" he snarled.

The other biker flipped up the visor of his own helmet. Sharp brown eyes pierced light violet orbs. The thief smirked at the annoyed look on his companion's face.

"Tsk tsk! Then what'd you go and dirty it for?" Bakura asked in an amused tone.

"BAKURA!" Marik snarled, eyes blazing.

"Did you know the attitude of a motorist affects how he drives?" Bakura asked idly.

Marik's tanned fingers tightened on the handles, knuckles turning white. The ancient thief knew how to push his buttons. Bakura smirked and in an instant he'd roared off down the road.

"You get back here right now you son of a….!" Marik's voice was drowned out as his engine rumbled to life.

Bakura grinned evilly as he glanced back in the distanced. He quickly swerved off onto another side street. The streetlights were flickering, giving the impression of strobe lights.

Bakura looked about his surroundings. His eyes searched the area at each intersection. Adapting quickly to the flashing lights, he drove on. The wind made his bangs fly into his face. The air was cool, giving his skin a prickling sensation. He didn't put down his visor though. The cold was refreshing to him. While enjoying a ride on such a night he could almost forget…

He closed his eyes for a moment. Breathing deeply, he tried to erase everything. He tried to erase his past….his fears…his emotions…his existence…

"You coward. Do you really think you could ever bury the memories? Or have you forgotten your promise to us?"

Bakura's eyes shot open. Veering sharply right, he swerved to a halt at the curb. The streetlamps' flickering ceased abruptly, fully illuminating the street.

"There you are! Thought you'd get away with that, did you? Don't think I didn't realize who was making the street lights go awry! Thought you were being so…" Marik stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Bakura's face.

The thief sat atop the motorcycle gripping the handles like a vice. His eyes were unfocused and wide. When Marik got closer he could see the thief's chest heaving in labored breaths, entire frame trembling.

"Kura?" Marik said softly.

The tomb robber's body jerked violently when Marik spoke. Brown eyes held a wild, disoriented look.

'All right, he's not faking,' Marik realized.

Bakura blinked at Marik for a moment then stared down at his hands that were still tightly clutching the handle bars. Taking a deep breath, his eyes lost their panicked look; in place was a look of complete exhaustion.

"Hey," Marik said gently, "What happened? You okay?" He rested a hand on his friend's tense shoulder.

"Nothing." Was the response.

"Oh no you don't! I'm not letting this one go! Something happened, something bad. Talk to me," Marik replied sternly, increasing the pressure on the thief's shoulder.

"I said nothing!" Bakura shrieked, tearing away from Marik's grasp.

The blond backed up in shock. He'd never seen his friend in such a state before. Clearing his throat, he decided a less subtle approach was appropriate.

"It's about what happened with the pharaoh, isn't it?"

"No."

"…!" Marik was shocked at this answer. What else was there? Had he done something?

"It's not you, Marik," Bakura said quietly. "Don't even think it."

"Then what is it?" Marik asked desperately, befuddled.

"Nothing you need worry about."

Marik sighed, frustrated. "Yes I do need to worry about it. My best friend is zoning out, looking like someone just stabbed him in the gut. I will not ignore it. I will Not!"

Bakura glared at his hands. He remained silent. He knew Marik was concerned. That was something he couldn't help.

"It doesn't matter, Marik. Telling you won't change anything." Bakura started his motorcycle and sped off down the road.

"Maybe not, but at least someone would understand…" Marik whispered softly to the darkness.

All righty then! The plot thickens! I will greatly appreciate any complements, criticism, concerns, questions…just write something dammit! Heh…

My sister is getting annoyed. She says I'm not writing fast enough. Feh…It's rather amusing, really. She's critiquing the story. You should all be grateful to her. She keeps me on my toes. Literally. She's taller than me. It's not fair being shorter. No one should have to be shorter than their younger sibling! Curse it all!...okay. I'm done ranting now.

I mentioned to her that I'll personally hunt down and torment flamers till the end of their days. Now she's determined to review and flame away just to spite me .… (grumbles) Me and my big mouth...

Review please!