Marik watched as the whitette made his way to the wooden desk to his left. Ryou was wearing light gray jeans with black sneakers. His blue and white striped shirt was taut against his chest, and his black trench coat defied gravity as he moved. Suddenly, Ryou gave a little start, as if surprised at something. He closed his eyes, and his pale lips moved as if he was speaking, but no words were coming. His thin eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly his hair subtly moved, sticking up a bit more. Marik looked around, wondering if anyone had noticed the change that had come over Ryou. No one was looking nervous or shocked, so he thought not. He glanced back to Bakura, who had sat down in the chair. Marik saw his eyes slide over to him, and Bakura smirked. His eyes were red-flecked.

Marik's first thought was What the Hell?

His second was Shit. I'm screwed now.

He knew this boy. He had tried to forget everything that happened in Battle City, when his old partner in crime had been sucked into the Shadow Realm, and he thought he'd never see the man again. But now he was back, and Marik was afraid. Bakura looked back to the teacher, and made his hair fall flat. He took an innocent expression to his eyes, and listened in what it seemed to be a respectful silence. But Marik knew otherwise.

It was lunchtime. Marik hadn't seen Bakura since math, and he hoped that the tall boy did not have this period with him. He had no such luck.

Marik started to his solitary table in the back of the cafeteria. He took his sketchpad with him, and started to draw as soon as he sat down. He first sketched a few Egyptian symbols for a warm-up, and soon moved to the full scale drawing he'd been working on in the past week. He looked down at his open, coffee colored sketchpad. The seven millennium items were sketched out on the page. He had started to put in the details yesterday, starting with his favorite, the Millennium Rod(of course). He drew in the shape of the eye on the thicker part of the object, and added more depth to the 'wings' on the side.

He had just gotten into the 'zone' of drawing, as he called it, when someone set a tray of food down across from him. He raised his head to inform them that this was his area, when he saw the familiar red-brown eyes. Shit! He thought that Bakura hadn't had this class.

"Why, hello, Marik. Is this seat taken?" He asked, innocently.

"No. No one sits here but me." Marik answered suspiciously. He knew of the Spirit of the Ring's uncanny ability to completely mask himself as his host, and, at the moment, Marik was unsure whether he was speaking with the vessel or the spirit.

"Wonderful. Now we can talk." Bakura's voice suddenly got harsher and deeper, and his hair spiked up into bat-wing like formations on the side of his head. "So, Marik. How's life been since you got up and ditched me? Have you been well?" The boy's scathing tone cut into Marik's very soul.

"I didn't ditch you, Bakura. I thought you had died! I felt so alone. What else was I supposed to do, other than give the imbecile over there," he gestured towards the blonde/black/red haired boy seated at a table full of raucous friends, "my millennium items? If I hadn't they would have taken them anyway!" He finished angrily, then paled when he thought about what he had said. That sounded like the old Marik, the one that wanted to kill the pharaoh. No! He couldn't get into that again. "Uh-I mean…"

"Oh, it's quite obvious what you meant, Marik," Bakura smirked. "You still hate the pharaoh, and here everyone believes you to be the good little servant, Marik Ishtar." He leaned closer to the tanned Egyptian in front of him. "But I know better."

"Shut up!" Marik hissed. "You don't know anything about me!" Marik glared at the spirit, irritated that just his presence could affect him in such a way.

"I know more than you think, Marik," the spirit replied in the same tone, "For instance, I know that they," he pointed to Yugi's group, "don't accept you, so you sit here, all alone, working on your little drawings. I know you yearn for your old life, Marik, and I'm here to show you that you can have it again."

Marik scoffed. "That's not your only reason, Bakura. You only help yourself. What do you want?"

"My ring," the pale brit spoke softly. "It is strange to not have it dangling around my neck. I know you want your rod back, as well." He smirked as Marik glared at him, furious at the thought that the spirit knew what he wanted. "We can be partners again," he said gently, "we can get our millennium items back, and you can be yourself again, away from your 'friends', as you call them."

Marik found himself wanting everything the spirit was telling him. He had missed the Millennium Rod permanently in his hand, he didn't fit in with Yugi's group, and he did miss the adventure that his life here failed to offer. But he had to mull over this. He had been so sure that he was on the right path, but with Bakura back….he wasn't anymore.

"Can I think about your offer?" he asked the boy.

"Sure. I'll want an answer soon, however." The whitette smirked, knowing that Marik was tempted. Deeming his job finished for now, he stood and left the bright building.

A/N: Hey, everyone. Its nice to know you like my story, so far. I was hoping that this chapter would clear things up a bit, since some people are a little confused as to why Marik didn't recognize Bakura or that Ryou was an exchange student. Marik had tried to forget everything that had happened in Battle City, so to squash any thought of being evil. Ryou, after he was released from the spirit's hold, moved to England to get control of his life again. Now that the spirit's back, however, he forced Ryou to become an exchange student so Bakura could get to the Pharoah's group again. And the high school/ college thing... I'm a highschool student, so I don't know anything about college, so this is kind of like a boarding school thing where you have college courses, but have class periods like a highschool, and things like that. Sorry for any confusion that arose because of this. And the typo thing with the four years/ three years was an accident, orignally my story had taken place three years after Battle City, but I changed it to four, and forgot about the second time I had mentioned it. Sorry for the really long author's note too.

Please review! ~Oh, and no flames, because it seems that if you don't say that, CERTAIN people think its totally okay to use harmful sarcasm, which I very much dislike. If you want to know my standing on flamers, check out my profile.~

~~Toodles~~