Connections.

The Book.

Ever since he was a child, there would be these dreams. Where most children dreamed of being a King or Knight, a Hero that rescued people and defeated monsters. These dreams were nothing like those. Vast lands of the desert, tall pyramids being built, tunics and shendyts with layers of gold. Dreams that are always the same with just small changes, in people and scenery. Never any direct things that he can remember. Conversations that would be held just vanished when things ended and he woke up. It seemed so fleeting and yet those small dreams carried on to reality and effected his daily life.

Enough so that his guardian, his own flesh and blood, seemed driven mad by having to take care of such an untamed and uncontrolled Grandson. A part of him truly didn't blame her but the side of him that was deeply effected by the emotional and mental trauma that she inflicted in him did. And that very same part of him held a hatred that would never quite be fixed no matter how many years passed.

Reflecting on his thoughts in the mirror, staring at his own reflection, the quiet contemplation was interrupted by the repeated buzzing of his cellphone against the counter top. A steady blink of his gaze brought him from his thoughts and quickly the phone was snatched up from the counter. The screen was unlocked and text messages pulled up, as lilac eyes scanned the message his hands pulled his tri-colored hair back into a short ponytail on his head, tanned hands falling back to his side before grabbing the phone.

Marik.

Heba, call me when you get a chance. It's important.

Short and to the point, he never was one who liked to bother much with texting. A part of him wondered if such things stemmed from the time he spent underground and away from so much advancements in the world with his sister. They'd been friends for a while but that bond had only seemed to truly start to grow when Marik returned to Egypt after being overseas for a while. He only really got snippets of what happened in Japan, in most of his friends' life now that he really thought about it. Marik wasn't heavily into talking about himself, it seemed.

Heba chewed on his lip for a moment before locking his phone and setting it down in exchange for his toothbrush. Half an hour later he exited the bathroom, fully dressed for the day and balancing his phone against his shoulder. He wandered into the kitchen and threw the teapot onto the counter to fill with water. A few minutes of ringing and the other end of the phone was finally answered, Marik's rough voice crossing over the line as he greeted him.

"Hope I didn't wake you." In response Heba turned slowly and glanced at the clock on the microwave. A little after five in the morning, he assumed normal people wouldn't be awake at this hour but since he was a kid Heba had always been an early riser. A survival instinct he supposed, the sooner he was awake the sooner he had a chance at leaving the house before he Grandmother got up.

"Nope." He turned back to the pot and removed it from the water, turning the faucet off and moving to the stove. Setting it down he let the water start heating up and leaned against the counter to continue his conversation with Marik. "What's up? I honestly didn't think you got up before Ishizu pulled you from the sheets." That wasn't true, Marik was never quite one to lay around, but he couldn't help a little teasing.

"Have you seen the news? I know you don't keep up much with the Duel Monsters community, but I think this one might interest you. Seto Kaiba's most recent Tournament."

"Doesn't that man hold a Tournament--like--every week?" It felt that way, every time he turned around there seemed to be some new Tournament going on that he had absolutely no interest in. Don't get him wrong, Duel Monsters was big when he was a kid, Heba played a bit himself, but that was just it. A kid. He hadn't looked at his desk in perhaps a decade or more. He only ever carried one card around with him, one he used as a bookmark, and that was the first card he ever acquired with his own money that meant the world to him. It's practically the first stone in your life, when you can buy something with your own money, that you earned on your own.