A show of hands: How many expected to see this so quickly? ... no one? Me either! I probably shouldn't be posting just yet, but I'm impatient, and I have at least five chapters done. So if I update weekly... well, the waits shouldn't be too bad. Anyway, yes, this is YAOI. Again. As in, the sequel to Imitation Is The Sincerest Form Of Flattery. Dark LinkxLink, which is one of my favorite pairings! If you haven't heard of that story, then you need to report to my profile pronto and read that first! -winkwink-

Anywho, this story is basically Majoras Mask with as many twists and tom-foolery possible. Meaning, there's a lot that's going to be added to the story that never happened in the game/manga. I'm also putting everything I have into this, so expect a definite improvement from Imitation.

Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda: Majoras Mask, does NOT belong to me. I am making no profit from this story, and I'm claiming nothing but the twists I produce from my own beautiful imagination.

Warnings: This story contains YAOIYAOIYAOI. Got it? If you don't like that, leave ASAP; Because, honestly, why waste your time flaming me when you can be searching for something better to read anyway? Plus, I don't appreciate someone wasting my time with facts I already know. I've been told before just how strange and or wrong YAOI is, and, frankly, I don't care. -Smiles- I have my opinions/likes/fetishes/etc. and you have yours. As for swearing, I do have a bit of a sailor streak in me, so the occasional swear will occur. As for smut, well, we'll see. -winkwink-

As for ages, shota isn't cool right? So Link and Dark Link are presently seventeen. There will be plenty of flashbacks to fill you in on what they did in the seven years you missed them, so no worries.

And with all that aside, assuming you actually read all that, haha, I'll let you get on with the story! -Smiles-

A Wandering Soul Proceeds All Darkness
Prologue- Part One

Drip, drip, drip, from cavernous ceiling to raging current. The mildewed passage rank of age and disuse, water pure but nearly stale even as it ran it's course. Ragged stone along its edge, somehow anything but smooth despite the ever present water caressing it's hide. Perhaps because of magic, more likely due to reasons better left undiscovered. A mystery better left unraveled. After all, this liquid road, the greatest secret of the Goddess' themselves, was the link between two worlds.

And here he stood, a figure so foreign and unfamiliar in this place.

Head dipped low to avoid an unusually low ceiling, back hunched and uncomfortable in this small space. Claustrophobia an underlying nerve nagging at the back of his mind. Yes, here he stood at the waters edge, at the flowing current of the River of Time. The passage between a world that existed, and one that did not. A world where all things unwanted, unreal, thrived.

So what did that make him to be here? Unreal, or unwanted?

Did it even matter?

One step, two, and he was ankle deep in the pool, wading into a current that immediately tugged at him, stronger than one could ever imagine from just looking at it from the surface. He would be pulled away most certainly, and yet he was not. The water dipped and tugged for another moment yet, and then stilled around him.

Alive. It seemed… alive.

But wasn't that what time was? A living essence that grew ever older, moved ever onward, and became more complex and important with every passing day?

It was tolerating him, his presence, and allowed him to wade further inwards until his knees were wet and he was turning, facing the darker part of the tunnel. In that direction lay what he was looking for, of that he was certain.

And he was looking for something, no, someone, so uncertain.

A certain uncertain someone who had had the gall, the nerve, to steal from him. From Majora himself…

'Foolish little cretin. Only one being has ever possessed the power to use my mask. And that person himself is right here, trapped within mortal skin and filled to the brim with immortal soul.'

He bit back the angry bile that rose within his throat, focusing instead on pacing down the current until he passed through the arching exit. Dark as an eclipse, not a single thread of light to guide him. But that was all right. Because he was nestled safely in the lifestream of the River of Time, and it would surely guide him. It held no loyalties after all; shifted to the will of no one.

He raised a hand to his brow, breathing deeply of the musky air, and when once again he opened his eyes, he found a swath of color unfolding before him. It shifted and grew, slithering along the walls of the tunnel with a serpentine air, nuzzling into cracks within the stone. The tunnel dipped, the water falling away beneath him, and he found himself falling through space, surrounded by nothing but a rainbow of jagged hues.

Air rushed up to meet him, smelling of unknown places and adventures yet to be unfolded. It wriggled through his hair and wound about his figure, passing almost through him on its journey upwards.

And when once again his feet found solid ground, the world had changed. Into what had never existed at all. A world whose fate had yet to be determined. A destiny meant to be crafted by his very hands, and yet was now placed upon the shoulders of a small, certain uncertain imp.

The very imp that had stolen his mask. Majoras Mask.

He fought another angry bout of fury and forced himself to straighten out his clothes, to smooth his hair back into place and to retrain his ever-tightening smile. And the color strengthened around him as he did so. And, like brushstrokes on a canvas, before him appeared an entirely new world.

A world that homed only one small, yet important town.

His feet upon grass now, the tunnel and the river disappearing underground, he began a steady pace towards the town lying in the distance.

And, as he did so, he only vaguely registered the fact that even though the sun was out and the sky was devoid of all stars and clouds, the moon was visible. Made even more alarming in that it was hanging very, very low in the stratosphere…