Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.
A chapter that had to be split for sensible reading purposes, but here you all go! Happy Holidays, everyone!
Enjoy!
Chapter Fifty-Eight: Happiness, Lies, and Compromise
Dulcet tones of some traditional ditty filled the lower rooms while the scent of the communal lunch inspired the same uplifting energy throughout the hotel. The boy sat in his chosen corner, swarmed with a conflicted feeling as he watched life move on as normal. He recalled an early memory—although late enough that it did not fall into the strange haze his earliest consciousness was privy to—where his small hand had pointed to the curtained window of his father's study. He remembered his father smiling benignly before shaking his head, although his eyes had flashed with anger as the boy persisted. What was out there, the boy demanded to know. I want to see. Please, I want to see the people I can hear.
And here he was, able to see them. These people he knew through books and faint memories, even if the city was different. The culture, the language, the songs…the clothes some mix of modern and traditional for the ease of production; all more brightly colored than anything he had ever worn. It was clear this had been a tourist town and by the sea rather than inland where his father resided at that time, but that was beside the point. All the elements were there. Oddly enough, it made him sorely miss Domino City in a way he had never known before. Each life experience left him to pine in quiet for an existence he had yet to encounter.
He heard some younger patrons laughing about something in a tongue familiar to his friends and he let out a relieved sigh. Things were not as bad off as he had originally assessed—it just depended on who they ran into. A thought that was logical enough; a port town would always contain an assortment of languages. However, that meant the same good fortune for those that had invited themselves into their fold. What had initially been a move to smile fizzled into a small frown. Different problems faced them, then.
"Why the long face, boy?" a stranger asked him. When D only lifted his gaze and gave a short shrug, the man looked around before taking a seat at the same table. D's face did not speak of the distrust that fluttered within him as he watched the man fold his hands on the polished wood. He merely took on an unaffected air and watched life in the port city move on.
"Do you not understand me?" the man continued, paused, and then began muttering to himself. "That might be it. You are one of the rare travelers from the north."
"No, I understand you," D replied in monotone. The current of lively patrons filed into the dining area and he bit back a flash of annoyance. He had chosen this spot for a reason. What about him was so interesting that this stranger practically searched him out in his easy to miss nook? "I simply don't know you."
"That is fair. You speak well, by the way."
D shrugged once more. The man cleared his throat, looking side to side again. The boy raised an eyebrow at the behavior. It had been some time since his presence had achieved such a nervous attitude in another. He disliked it and its implications.
"Jeez…whadda'ya want?" a displaced voice asked, gruffer than his own. D's face drained of remaining color, a major betrayal of his false indifference. He was grateful the man had been looking away from him, for his mouth had not moved. No, someone—or something—else had decided to respond, and at that moment the boy could think of no fitting retribution for this intrusion. The man did look up in shock, though, at the abrupt change in tone and D caught his gaze in an attempt to salvage the interaction—at least enough so that less questions would be raised. Thoughts against his meddlesome hand burned within him.
And his hand's gleeful taunts jauntily retorted back.
'You were thinking it, weren't you? Sometimes it is better just to let it out.'
"That seat is taken," D said bluntly. Mentally, he berated the thing for interfering in what could prove to be a dangerous situation. He was more than tired of being the reason for misfortune. "Is there something you want?"
"You just seemed lonely—"
"That sounds strange coming from an adult."
"That's not it at all!" The man practically leapt from his seat at the remark. "Let me finish. That's not…"
D kept his incredulous look but motioned for the man to finish his statement.
"I overheard a rumor that you and those you travel with can't pay for your stay. I mean, you strangers stick out like crazy—and then I saw you here and you looked down. I hate it when kids are sad. I've got a few of my own and just," he shrugged. "I'm offering to help."
"Why?" D crossed his arms. "What would we have to do for you?"
The man's face brightened. The short dark curls on his head bounced a little at his small, emoted joy. "I'm one of the people who supplies the seafood. There's work. And work pays."
D remained quiet enough to spark an uncomfortable silence. "Short staffed?" he said finally.
"No, but I can pay—although I'm certain my wife will have a few words for me," he said with a chuckle. "Just think of it as a good way to get to know the place…and maybe give those you travel with a chance to learn the language."
"How do we get to the point that it's actually considered paid back?" D questioned. "We don't intend on staying long, and we're starting in the negative."
The man laughed again. "You are smart, boy. A very good question. Don't worry though, I don't intend on trailing you along. Help me for a day, and if we can bring in the haul I hope for, then you will have paid me back and then some."
"If we don't bring in 'the haul'?"
"How long do you plan on staying?"
"That's up to my dad." Once more, it still felt wrong lumping Bakura and his father within the same word, but then again, he could rationalize the response. It was truly up to his father (and the distance between them) if they would get a reprieve.
He felt a little more at peace with the informality of it, as well. How Claire could just throw around family ties amazed him still. Unfortunately, she had been with Amami while he tried to analyze their position, making sure the girl felt less alone as the days without her father wore on. He could not rely on her help now. Hopefully, he had sounded natural in his response.
"I see."
Perhaps not well enough, then. "And his friends, but even if they decided to leave and he didn't, I go where he goes."
This received yet another laugh, and a response filled with unintended irony. "That's good. Last thing that a parent wants is for their kid to run away with someone else."
As if on cue, Bakura came into view, looking over each shoulder for a recognizable face. He waved politely to the changing staff, some who recognized him from the night before waving in kind. Even here looks of interest seemed to follow him. D did not envy the poor man; he worried instead. If a normal human—a stranger no less—could cause such a stir, what would happen when he grew up? The thought of someone passing out at his feet mortified him, but he had heard the tales. He stressed about those tales.
However, he was not grown yet, and the apparently good natured, well-off fisherman was awaiting an answer to his original question.
D nodded. "Since you're a parent, I guess you'd know. Let's ask mine about your idea. He's coming over right now."
As the fisherman stood to greet and offer the seat to its "rightful" occupant, the boy latched onto positive thoughts. Not all people were terrible and for all the horrors he had seen, he did not wish to treat everyone like they would no doubt treat him if they knew the truth. This effort was an easy enough exercise when he saw the young man beam at him from across the way. Bakura's optimism was infectious. D even allowed himself to smile.
Not much later the pair found themselves before the blue green of the sea, having tentatively agreed to the deal. In addition, more linguistically inclined patrons had caught wind of the issues that the newcomers faced and had presented their own kindness to aid them with their bartering. The coveted meeting to decide what route to take and who to trust was postponed for the moment so the rest of their cohort could be split in other menial tasks to pay for their stay. The owners of the hotel appeared understanding given the general circumstances that were shared and seemed more than welcome to the hodgepodge of "payment" they would be receiving. All of this without any undercurrent of mistrust or paranoia. The travelers' relief and gratitude could not be overstated. What a difference from their last encounter.
With a quick twist and pull, Bakura placed yet another mussel into the basket he had been given. D watched with half-interest while following the man at his task, staying just above the tide line. Occasionally, when it seemed safe, he would dip down to shorten the distance only to hustle up the sandy slope when the foaming spray chased him away. It had been some time since they had been one on one like this and both were as keen on enjoying it as they were loath to begin the underlying conversation that they knew they had to have. Neither cared to begin, so there they were in the dim afternoon light, foraging for food as one of the ways to pay for their stay with the surf as their voice.
A rush of waves. The cawing of gulls. The swooping sounds of a returning tide. Hearts beating with calm for once.
"As big as my thumb," Bakura muttered beneath his breath; measuring and popping off yet another bivalve to add to his pile. A quick glance further up the shore had him catch the boy smiling to himself. Having been spotted, D motioned to the man's left. A mussel of a good size rested upon the rock he had missed.
"Thank you," he said with a chuckle. D only gave him a shrug, but it was enough. He had long ago learned how to decipher the boy's meaning when he chose to keep his words to himself.
Taking a moment to watch the blue horizon, Bakura could see fishing boats returning for the day with their catches and hear the chatter of a language he did not understand. Another realm that had found its balance in a world askew. They had encountered a friendly bunch considering their previous situation—all the more reason, Bakura reflected—to take a quick leave. They did not want these people wrapped up in their issues.
He sighed and lugged the weighty basket up to where D waited for him. Some of this food might have been meant for dinner, thus they needed to return soon—especially if they wanted this work to arrive fresh. Still, they did have at least a minute to rest and appreciate the beautiful color of the water.
D eyed Bakura for a moment before following his line of sight. Nostalgia hit him then and the blip of a brief wish to experience that type of contentment once more. That freedom of going "wherever they wanted". Such a wish meant that at least one concern had to be resolved, however. And…how deep this concern ran.
Without any emotion hinting at how he would be moved, the boy said, "Let me preface with the question: Do you still intend to kill my father?"
Bakura did not look at him, but there was no hesitation or hurry in his answer. "Definitely."
"What about…?"
"D-kun, all I can tell you for sure is that I am going to do my best not to lump everyone into the same category of good or bad. It's hard, I admit, but that's not how we are going to survive. We either are going to find a way to work together, or a whole people is going to fade out of existence forever."
"Maybe that would be for the best," the boy ruminated. "It was bad before, with vampires having to hide in the shadows of humanity, waiting for their talents and intelligence to be put to use, but if this pain and destruction is the vampire legacy of their resurgence—It's just wrong. My father…he should have never made me. Slowly, I think I am beginning to understand why he chose to, but he has a poor way of implementing his cause if I'm reading the signs right. I was an ill-conceived idea that only exemplifies the worst of both worlds."
Bakura's expression softened. "You will never be ill-conceived to me."
Their eyes met. "No?"
"Never."
"Even if you can never find your happiness? Even if I ruin it every time?"
Bakura laughed. "What do you mean? I have happiness. You've ruined nothing in my life. The one I blame, well…that's between me and them."
"Well then," D replied, a strange smile touching his lips, "what is your plan now, Bakura-sama?"
"To reevaluate the balance of our team. And to ask you if you are comfortable with using," he nodded to the boy's left, "that in battle."
The child stared at his left palm, a tortured look bleeding across his face. "I should have done so earlier. Wanatabe might have…if I had done it…"
"You probably saved more lives by not doing so," Bakura said, patting the boy's shoulder. "From what you guys relayed to us, there was either little room or little time to figure out how to use it and decide if it was safe. I'm only asking because it's probably been going around in your head; I figure you've wanted to test it."
"If it's anything like that dream that I had—"
"Once again, it's why I'm asking."
D considered his hand once more. "It would be good to test my abilities."
"Okay."
"But where would we go? I wouldn't want to hurt anyone."
Bakura shrugged. "We'll figure it out."
"I want to be able to help you more," D said, wedging his foot between rock and sand. "I am tired of being an unlucky burden."
"You aren't."
"It feels like it. Name one time since we have been traveling together that being with me has led to better things rather than misfortune and death."
Bakura laughed. "D-kun…you act like I only had bad luck after I met you. At this point, I figure I'm just a bad luck magnet, and I'm just sorry you have been exposed to it."
"You aren't bad luck!"
"And for the last time, neither are you."
The boy clung to Bakura in a hug strong enough to knock the wind out of the man. After composing himself, Bakura shook his head and returned the gesture—albeit less violently. The cool costal breeze chilled them, but the combined warmth seemed enough for the pair. It was as if the child could sense a flickering flame of kindness in the cruel void of a world.
"What are we going to do about the others who followed us?" D whispered into the man's ear, hoping that they were truly "alone". "We can't go with them."
"We won't."
"They've been very accommodating so far, probably to make you trust them. They're going to want you to give soon. There's no way they will be able to lie for you like Mr. Greylancer did. They're not strong enough."
"So, you don't think Arthur is telling the truth?"
"I think he's telling you some truth. He'd like to help. He seems the honorable sort…But he cannot. I might not know them, but I know my father, and the kind of people he employs. Even if they tried to lie, they'd still be found out. Lying would be worse."
"I see."
"Then what will we do?"
"Solve the problem before it starts. Anyone with a brain can't fault them if we lied to them first. We will leave soon," Bakura promised. "I'll make sure of that."
"Good."
"Good? Good? You say that with that sour look on your face?" Bakura questioned, pinching the boy's cheek, and tugging it a little. A frown attempted to form but failed for how the lips were stretched. The man tittered and let go.
"Where are we going?" D asked, flopping once again into the embrace.
"Home," Bakura replied.
"Home…"
D wanted to believe it for Bakura's sake. For Claire's. For everyone. After all the battles that they had gone through and would still have to face, that a true home was their destination and something worth looking forward to. He had long given up on the promise of normal. Just being with someone who would accept him for what he was and protect him until he could do the same was enough. Much like Bakura, though, he could not be satisfied until those he cared about were in a safe place as well. And for that…well…
Bakura had said it.
D wished his father would just give up.
"Our time isn't over," Bakura murmured, and the boy wondered if he had meant to say it aloud.
Night fell once more, and the hotel took on the jovial nature of a warm tavern against the coming winter. Singing began from the back of the dining area and worked its way to the front, and even those presently working participated. A few tables were moved, and a couple began dancing to the beat brought on by clapping hands and thumps upon the food laden tables. More joined, dragging their friends to the center of mirth. Anzu, ever the savant in all things dance, caught onto the steps swiftly and moved with the happy sway to the approval of those around her.
Etsu clapped in time with the others, bobbing her head up and down at the spectacle as her grandmother monitored her for the woman. Beside her Amami sat quietly, observing the show with less enthusiasm. However, the silent girl could not help but crack a smile when she saw D hoisted from his nearby seat and pulled into the fray by Claire—who neither cared if she danced well or if he wished to join. With a look to her sitter, she bowed her head slightly and moved to follow them. Something to keep her mind off her troubling thoughts. Food held no magic cure for her.
She ran past the table where Jounochi sat with the only travelers that had not originated from Domino City. The woman the children knew as Jessica ate her meal with relish like the previous few days had been just a rigorous hike while her companion Albert seemed to be near dozing at his plate. Theo, with his arm tightly bound in a sling, listened intently to what the familiar blonde man was saying. The girl paid them little mind; their existence there was an expectation, rather than temporary—she had no guarded concerns of mistrustful loyalty like Kaiba had put forth hours earlier.
Moments later, Bakura came out of the backroom, removing his apron after helping with the preparation of the meal (yet another method of payment) and could not help but smile at the gaiety that surrounded him. That smile was jostled when three sets of young hands snatched him into the fray. While the smell of food around him was intoxicating and his stomach rumbled with hunger, he eagerly fell into the spinning circle that Claire had begun. Amami clutched his left hand, while D held onto his right. Anzu joined soon after, accepting Claire's outstretched invitation. Soon they were a spinning circle composed of 10 people, swirling around competent dancers as they stomped their feet to the beat.
Amongst this laughter, shouting, and singing, conversations rattled on—and being hard to hear, they were easy to miss for any eavesdroppers.
"No," Mai fumed over a steaming seafood soup. "I won't do it."
"Please," Yugi started, glancing with meaning at the laughing patrons.
They sat apart from the others, Kaiba having just retired to the bedroom to attend to his brother perhaps for the last time in this warm, accommodating, environment. "Sat" was perhaps not the best word. Yugi hovered over the empty seat, a cleaning rag in his hand, Kaiba's plates in another. He would need to leave to attend to the other table's dishes, but this would be the only time to discuss such plans without inciting suspicion.
"I'm not splitting us up. That is stupid."
"It wouldn't really be splitting everyone up."
"All the more reason I disagree," Mai snapped, and shoved a spoonful of her meal into her mouth. She chewed mechanically, like the enjoyable taste had all been swept away.
"I don't like the idea, either."
"Then why are you asking me?" She asked. "There's no reason to leave him here—to what—create some diversion that a thing like that could just sniff out without much thought?"
"Kaiba said he would agree to it."
"Oh, great. Kaiba says he will. Is Kaiba the one running the show now?"
When Yugi did not respond, Mai shook he head in disgust. "But of course, Bakura would agree. I should know. He did something like that for us back at…" Her eyes drifted towards the unassuming man whirling around in blissful ignorance of what would be thrust on his shoulders. "You've already gotten a chance to talk to everyone who could say anything about this, didn't you?"
"Mai-ch—"
"Don't. Just don't even try giving me an excuse. Just tell me this, although I think I already know: Does he know?"
"No."
"I didn't think so," she muttered. "Otherwise I doubt D would be out there with them, laughing and dancing and acting like the kid he is."
"This will be safer for D in the long run," Yugi coaxed, seeing her crestfallen face.
"How?"
"He won't be near Kaiba, that's assured. He won't stick out as much in a larger group, and he won't be with someone that fits the description of the second half of the pair. Bakura also will be laying false leads based on what I'm sending him off with. D will be safe, and with people he knows."
"You really haven't been around him much, have you?" Mai asked. "That's like asking Kaiba or Jounochi to take care of Etsu while you go off on your own to play as bait for a hungry shark in the ocean, only she's got the mental capacity of a freshman in college and has a severe attachment issue when it comes to you."
"That is…specific."
"It's what it is." She took another bite and grimaced. "And admittedly too on the nose. All this talk is ruining my dinner, and I've had a long day."
"We all have had—"
"And I'm just learning that my opinions mean near to shit here."
"That's not…"
"You can't even finish the sentence," Mai snorted.
"Give me a minute!"
She shook her head with a derisive chuckle. "Yugi, we've been working together for a while now, and we have a long history. Since there's that, and the fact I will be outnumbered in a vote, I'll go along with your plan. This isn't your style normally, so I assume you have your reasons and that there's something that I'm missing. For whatever reason. Suppose that I just have to accept that. I demand in being with the group where the children are, however."
"Done!"
'And when I find out how you plan on ensuring that,' she thought to herself as Yugi walked away with an expression of mild relief, 'I'll make sure that he won't be going alone.'
Later still that night, when the children were tucked into bed—three asleep and one with their ear turned ever so slightly towards the meeting, the adults gathered to decide on the most prudent course of action.
"We can't stay," Kaiba stated, toying with a fold of cloth between his fingers. His somber expression bled into what little good mood remained and soured it to cold focus.
"You're right. We helped them cross a great distance, and that should be enough," Bakura replied, offering a sharp nod. There was a murmur of agreement that fluttered through the room, beating at the edges of the walls like a caged bird. Outside, a laugh pierced the night as drunken people stumbled to their homes, goodbyes shouted to the ones who lived in and maintained the haven for travelers. How such a wonderful place acted like an unspoken prison would have shocked even the most inebriated into sobriety. Mai glanced to the window to peer out at those unaware, but from her position all she saw was the moon atop the highest branches of a tree.
"But we can't cause too much of a stir," Mokuba added, leaning against his pillows. "Fifteen people doesn't seem like much to us right now, but to others, it probably looks like a band that could cause a lot of problems if we are deemed 'unfriendly'."
"We aren't seen as unfriendly here," Theo pipped up.
"No, but we are a little bit of a liability to them. They just don't know that yet."
"Since that's the case," Yugi said, taking the lead. "We will need to split up for a time. Only a time," he noted with calm as his words raised the hackles of those unaware of the secreted decision. "We just need to separate long enough to throw them off."
"And that's why we need to leave as soon as possible," Kaiba murmured.
"Yes, to literally cover our scent." Mokuba pulled three maps from his bag. "Three groups specifically. Small enough that we aren't seen as a problem, but large enough we can offer each other minor protection in the ways we can. Two groups to go down two separate paths. And of course—someone will need to stay behind to assess what damage our disappearance causes, and then follow a third path. This will help us plan for future encounters."
Yugi stepped away from the group at that moment to pull out a basket from under the bed. Uncovering the lid, the occupants saw a batch of torn strips of paper. "Two of the groups will be drawn tomorrow, after the first group has left. It makes sure those who leave first are less able to divulge information if it comes to that."
"I don't know about this," Albert grumbled. Mai watched as everyone's attention swerved his way. "If we leave too much up to chance, we run the risk of splitting up into unbalanced teams. How many strips of paper are there in the basket? How many are going per group? But on top of that, we should think of the kids. What if they get split up in a way that pulls them from their parents? What if—"
"It's a risk we have to take. This is for the sake of everyone."
"No, we can't think like that! They've been through enough already! Splitting them up—I mean, you really want to be parted from your baby!?" Jessica shouted, agreeing with her stalwart friend. "Kyoko you can't possibly agree with this, either!?"
Yugi's mother squeezed her folded hands that rested in her lap. "Lower your voice, please. I don't like it, but they may be right. We have many capable people, we are too obvious as we are now, and the less we know while we are apart, the better to protect everyone else. They say it's only to be for a little while. I trust my son. My concern is for the injured."
"I'm fine," Theo said as she glanced his way, "I'll live, but I don't like this plan either."
"I'm not keen on this," Jessica rephrased, coolly.
"We have to do something," Mokuba interjected. Eyes turned to his leg, which silenced the dissenting voices. If he were willing to do this, and run the risk of not being with someone who could care for him, then what excuse did they have? Mai's eyes narrowed, wondering just how accurate that assumption was.
Yugi lifted the basket once more. This time, no one uttered an argument. He took a folded slip of paper, silently read the contents with a clouded expression, and looked to the half circle before him. His lips tight in resignation, he held up the slip of paper. "Muto Kyoko," he announced, "Is in the first group."
His mother bowed her head in understanding, accepting her fate. While the air still hung heavy with anticipation, her behavior quelled some of the underlying antagonism. They waited with strained expressions for him to pull the next name.
'Bakura's name isn't in there,' Mai thought to herself as she scrutinized the contents that she could see, 'And since I made Yugi promise I'd be with the kids, mine probably isn't either.'
That left the pool of actual names rather small, as the children would also not be a part of this drawing. She held her face still against the impending frown that ached to be there. Would the additional papers be blank then? But then how would he get away with not showing the names? As she considered the options, a shadow against the paper made her eyes widen. Was that…a slight pointed fold in the top of the strip—something to feel for amongst the other regularly folded pieces? Her jaw slackened although she fought it when she noticed she was losing composure. So similar a trick to the one she had used years before when dueling against Jounochi. Perfume might have been less noticeable (and less damaging to the paper if applied just so) but where would they get distinctive scents at such a time? She doubted that Yugi would have been able to pull that off, though—or expected her to be so intent on the torn slips to notice a rare lapse in his code against cheating. Her eyes did not lie, though.
The first group was preplanned.
"It's going to get cold," Mai said, lightly gesturing with her arm. She needed more time to see how many would be going. If it were a midsized group, it would be easier to explain why Bakura had to go alone—but then it also meant their argument for breaking the group down would be moot. How did they plan on making this work tomorrow? Her mind raced with possibilities. "It's already cold. Are we prepared for a snowstorm if it happens?"
"We will be," Kaiba replied. "Those who stay behind can help fund what the first group takes and so on."
"What if D is put into an earlier group? Won't that make bartering harder?"
"We seem to have a good rapport with these people, and there are some who speak languages other than Romanian."
"We can discuss this topic further tomorrow, after the first group has left," Yugi interjected. "The less the first group knows, the better."
Mai pursed her lips and looked over to Bakura. His eyes seemed hazed, as if he were thinking of something else, but cleared when he noticed her attention. He gave her a brief smile and shrugged. "We can talk about it later," it seemed to say. She hated how trusting he was, sometimes—but how could he know not to be right now?
Yugi procured another strip (with that same fold, Mai noted) and read it aloud. "Kaiba…Mokuba."
There was an audible shifting of fabric as people fidgeted in their seats. It seemed fortuitous, but it made sense, so no one wished to speak up against it. Who better to travel with the severely injured than the most capable practitioner on their side?
Another rustling sound filled the air. A pause. "Jessica Moore."
That made the two healers logged into one team. Mai wondered at the logic behind it but did not make a move to argue. It seemed the woman across the way with her arms crossed was priming for that very thing. Yugi shook the basket, reached in, and swirled the papers around. Every bit of action to prove his "honesty".
"Kaiba Seto."
"Wait a minute," Jessica said, her voice straining as she tried to hold back a temper ready to fly. "Isn't that just a little too convenient? Wasn't this guy saying he was going to be blindfolding himself again? I get if Kyoko goes, but it makes shit sense for me to go, and it makes less sense for Kaiba to go if it's supposed to be random!"
"Are you saying I'm lying?" Yugi asked with a calm as cool and sharp as shattered ice. He extended the basket. "Do you want to pull the next one?"
Like he had read her like a book, Jessica sat back, sheet white. She did not want to oversee splitting up the group, especially if the weight of possibly losing people was involved. If he had asked the other, perhaps. But he had known who he was dealing with.
Naturally, everyone would be thinking that. Whoever was pulled, in whatever order, it would be the "fault" of whoever pulled them if something were to go wrong. All they could do was hope that nothing failed them, and that they would all get to come together once more…someday.
Yugi did not rub his win in, but rather dived his hand into the names. Having watched his antics, Mai knew that this was the last folded name. 5 people, then, for the first group.
He lifted the name to show them all. Tears filled the corners of his eyes, and even if Mai knew this had been planned, she also knew he must have hated making the call.
"Muto…Anzu."
In the darkness, D lay in his bed listening to all of this. His covers strained against their tucked folds as he clenched the fabric close to him. Even if he did not see the exchange, he already had a sense of the expressions of those in the distant room. Anxiety filled him with the cold, hot flashes in his mind—the room swayed and wavered as he tried to come to grips. They were splitting everyone up. He could not rationalize why they agreed to this idea; all he knew was that the chances of being separated from the only adult he trusted implicitly were high.
And for what? Who would it protect in the end?
"No," he murmured into the air as he shivered with the knowledge. "Get a hold of yourself. There is no reason for me to be so alarmed. There is always a chance…and they said that we would all eventually reconvene. We will reconvene. I have to trust them."
"You don't," a muffled voice came from one balled up fist.
"No," D replied, and a single tear slid from his eye.
"Hey, hey," called the only one who could not be separated from him. "Pull yourself together, it's not like we haven't done this before."
"I want to stay with Bakura-sama."
"You'll see him tomorrow. It might not…" And at that, both he and his hand realized the futility in the conversation.
D sat in silence, hugging himself while he fought off worst case scenarios in his mind. They had not even had a chance to test his abilities. Bakura had not yet read that strange book to him…or even brought it up. They had only just that day had a peaceful moment to themselves, and themselves alone. He had to be able to go with him. It was not fair any other way.
But was it fair to pull Anzu from her child?
A soft sniffle caught his attention, and he was able to pry himself from his forlorn ruminations. He thanked his curiosity for the brief reprieve.
"Did you agree to that?" Ah, that was Mai's voice. She sounded angry, but it was well hidden by concern.
"No," came the tearful whisper of Anzu. "But it makes sense. I have to trust him."
"How does that make sense?"
"Come on…isn't it obvious? Two caretakers to two who will need care…who are related? How else is he going to pass it off without a sacrifice? How else is he going to be able to accept leaving someone here alone?"
Leaving someone? D's mind raced and landed on the one plausible option. He gritted his teeth but continued to listen.
"It doesn't have to be this way."
"We already agreed."
"We shouldn't hide it, though."
"But we have to…the whole point of this…is because he—"
"If you want to keep it 'hidden' then don't say anymore," Mai hissed, but D wondered if she knew he was listening. He could not reason why she would be doing this for his benefit, other than to have him mentally prepare. That was sweet but if she thought he would go along with whatever crazy idea they were working on…
"You're right," Anzu replied. "We'll see each other again, soon, anyway. Yugi swore to me that the longest we would be apart is a few days. That's not terrible. We could have been separated longer."
"I'm sure that whatever he has planned will go off without a hitch," Mai said. "Now go to your room and enjoy a good rest. You'll need it. You've got quite the weight on your shoulders now, and a long day of traveling tomorrow."
"Yes…Good night."
"Good night."
D turned on his side as Anzu's footsteps echoed down the hallway, assuming that their discussion was over, but jolted up to a sitting position when he heard Mai whisper—
"I'm sorry, Anzu," her voice echoed in his ears, "but I've got no intention of letting this go the way they want it to. He won't be going alone."
