Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! and I don't own Vampire Hunter D. I also don't own what ever other character that pops up in this story…unless I really did make them up. oO

Chapter One: The Child Named D

September 3, 1999

Let it be known that my "companion" will not be having any word in how I write this. He can go and drink used toilet water for all I care, as long as it doesn't make me sick. I will be using my right hand. I like that one better any way. My left hand leaves too many squiggles in the letters. I'd rather be able to read my own journal than put down possible information that may be important to me later, only to not be able to read it.

I pity the human race, I do. All in one day they managed to destroy all they worked for. It's truly sad. I only wonder if it would have been better if I had gone with them. I know I'm jumping around, but it is not like Father is going to bother reading my thoughts, so I can let some proper writing skills slip, although this was supposed to be for practice. Oh, I'm rambling…

Yesterday, at noon, Father of all people came into my room. I was practicing writing in English (I can speak it well; I can also speak Romanian, French and Japanese, the Japanese part because my father said I should…something something, I think he was trying to say my mother was Japanese, so I should learn how to speak it because I am part Japanese. I dunno how that logic goes into French…I guess he just liked the language), and he had told me to stop. I was surprised as usually I don't see him during the day. If I do, it's usually not a good thing. Most of the time it is one test or another and I get tired of having to heal every other day because he wants to know if my organs are developing, or if I'm showing some unique growth or skill. I'd say that my retention of a language this quickly is skill enough, as well as the fact I can heal from surgery so rapidly. My companion (and I use this word as I don't think friend quite fits the bill, he's kinda mean) is one of the newest tests, but apparently a success as well. I'm just a ball of successful cells aren't I? He's laughing, and I'm getting off topic. I really should stop; it is one of my failings. Father doesn't like failures. He said he's had too many. So, where was I?

Father came into the room rather abruptly, and told me it was time. Of course I had no clue what time he was talking about, but he ushered me out of my room faster than I can ever remember. I only had enough time to pick up my journal, which always has a pen in it, and my security blanket. I am glad I took both along, and not something else, otherwise I would be in a very bad position, as I'm sure all is burned and lost out there.

He was talking to the others, his puppets and failures, and they were doing all they could to dismantle his lab; I saw this as I was pushed by, into the arms of one of my caretakers. She was the one who told me what time it was. Apparently the estimated time for the "human's demise" was that day, and we were to leave for some safe place at once. I didn't think it was very bright for Father to have waited so long to go there, but I was told a little later on there had been a few "loose ends to tie up". What those were I don't know, and I don't particularly want to. What is important is that we arrived. I did not see where, as I had been told to take a nap (although I think I really shouldn't have to, I feel like I sleep all the time), and by the time I woke up we were in a garage of some sort. I heard father mumbling to himself about how he didn't think things over correctly and probably should have been vacationing in Australia instead of Japan at this particular time. I was again ushered into another hall way, down a terribly long flight of stairs, and into a room that was…sterile looking?

It was a bland room, but it looked like it was well protected. Even though I could still hear through the walls, they were heavy, and looked like they could take whatever was thrown at them. There was a window, but since we were at the bottom of what seemed like some basement, I could only guess it was artificial light pouring through it. Again that did not bother me. I can go into the sun just fine, but it's like thousands of needles against my skin. This light feels better. I was told not to leave until instructed. I was apparently one of the few that were allowed a bathroom, so there would be no need for me to come out. That suited me fine, as I had no intention of leaving the room; I had no clue where I was, and had no interest in blowing up. So I fell asleep again.

I woke up only to the sound of a deep boom and the feeling of the room shake suddenly. I was alarmed at first, but remembering where I was, the sensations were easy to cast aside. It wasn't too hard to fall asleep again. Later on I woke up when I heard people walking outside my room. It sounded like they were carrying something big. I stopped breathing and listened hard, as even through these walls I could hear if I was quiet enough.

They sounded rushed, annoyed, and all too obviously interested in the thing they were carrying. I remember them talking about being hungry, and that it was infuriating that my father did not allow them to take this meal until it was thoroughly tested. I immediately knew it was a person, and felt great pity for them. It would have been far better had they died in the explosion. Most humans Father tests on, regardless of their gender, are killed in the end because of their inability to cope with the procedures. After a while, when I did not hear any struggle in the other room, I fell back asleep. I figured that they would be gone before long, and it would be dumb to stay up and worry about someone marked for death. (My companion is questioning how I would know anything about people being marked for death. I'm going to ignore him.)

I would have probably slept until now, but I heard banging in the other room and couldn't sleep after that. The person was still alive, and while I could not make much out of what they were saying, the fact that they had enough energy to do that made me curious to see if it really was a human in there. I would have thought that being in an explosion would have caused a lot of damage to a body. I've been listening to them pace ever since, but now they have stopped, possibly due to the fact that their room is as much protected as mine. I can't see any regular person being able to open one of these doors when they are locked. I on the other hand…

I'm going to take the ends off of this spiral notebook now. I'll leave the middle and bend it so it will still stay intact, but I need the rest. The person sounds like they are attempting to open the door again, and I'm getting curious. This parasite of mine is warning me against it. This person might be dangerous if they are still able to be so frantic. I think its adrenaline and anxiety, so I'm not going to listen to him. I may not know much about other people, but I do know when I meet most of them, their first instinct is not to attempt to kill me. I am just a kid after all. I should have written child, but I don't want to. So journal of mine, wish me luck.

D (incoherent scribbles)

P.S. I will say this yet again, I hate my name.

The renaissance child was quick to pry off the ends of his journal and bend them into a makeshift lock pick. Placing the notebook under his pillow, he hurried to the door and pulled on the handle just enough to feel how heavy the door might swing. The bolt itself was heavy, and the door would make a rather loud noise if he was not careful when he opened it. Letting it fall back into place with a thunk, he began to pick the lock. While the door and bolt were weighty, the lock was as basic as one would find in a modern day home. D had dealt with far more complex locks, as his father kept quite the lock on the child's door at home.

Within moments D heard the lock give and quickly opened the door, dancing in silent celebration as he made his way to the other painted metal door. Within those few feet, he realized even if the person on the other side of the door was docile, if his father ever found out; it would be hell for him for a good few months. Whenever his father was angry, that was when the more sadistic experiments were conducted. He debated for a time on whether or not to return to his room, but in the end decided to go forward with his plan, as he figured he would be fine. It was not as if he could not handle the procedures, and he was at least lucky enough to have his father appreciate his talents and be willing to take care of him, instead of casting him aside like his other blunders. Taking a deep breath he readied himself and unlocked the door to find a young man with the hair color he had only known to be achieved by the truly old, and defeated brown eyes. He was a rather curious looking man, more beautiful than handsome. For a second D wondered if he had just walked in on one of his father's friends, instead of the prisoner he had expected to find.

The first moments with this young man were awkward; there had been a brief language barrier, and some formality problems on D's part, but other than that, the soft spoken man was kind enough sounding, and rather pleasant looking. D did not expect any hostility from him, as Bakura had made no movement to rise from his seat on the bed.

"So," Bakura said, "you're name is Duu?"

D blinked, realizing he had refrained from saying the rest of his name. "Oh, no…no, no, no," Twisting his fingers, he glanced around the room and wondered why it was so gray. It was not his father's style at all. "It's D…just D."

From his left hand came an obnoxious chuckle and D quickly clenched his hand, shoving it into his pocket. Bakura tilted his head and glanced down at D's covered hand, asking the question without even saying it. Had that laugh come from his hand? D was in no mood for explaining so he decided to quickly change the subject. He had some questions of his own anyway.

"What are you doing here?" D asked, wondering if indeed this young man was to become his father's next research tool.

Bakura did not answer at first, he looked down and his gaze slid to the desk with a composition book lying on top of it. D wondered if he kept a journal too, or if that had just been apart of the décor. Sighing, he shrugged, and looked at D apologetically. "I'm sorry, but I really don't know. I was kind of hoping someone would explain that to me."

D did not find this surprising, but it was still unsettling to have the knowledge that this man's life was to be over in a far more horrible way than it would have been had he died in the explosion. "I'm sure Father had his reasons for bringing you here," he replied, unable to think of anything positive to say.

"You're father brought me here?" Bakura asked, perking up somewhat, "Could you take me to him?"

"No," D answered, cringing at his bluntness. His father would not have approved, "Not to be rude, but it is very difficult to get an audience with him, and I think he would be asleep at this time. He's usually very busy…"

"An audience?" Bakura raised an eyebrow. It was obvious D had slipped up in some way, but he could not think of how. "You actually have to set up a time with him?"

'Oh great,' D thought, smacking his forehead. He had to remember that this man did not live like he did, and to say that people needed to set up an audience probably confused him. He silently cursed his father for expecting so much out of him. Things were hard to keep track of.

"It's not like it really matters you know," his left hand whispered, "he'll be dead probably within the month, although that might be thinking optimistically."

"Be quiet!" he hissed, "he's probably not used to these things!"

"Who are you talking to?" D looked up to see Bakura standing up. He was short compared to his father; his white hair was more haphazard looking at this angle, though, adding a little height. He was not as intimidating, but still D could feel something strange about him, and had the feeling that the young man could feel the same about him. 'Is he really human?' he wondered. It was not like he had seen too many. He usually saw the end result, which was never pretty, and they had never had such a presence in life.

"Oh…eh…" D pursed his lips, wracking his brain for a lie. Oh, his father was going to be so annoyed with him. "My…friend?"

Bakura tilted his head, and smiled at him. D could not tell if he had seen through the lie, or had just found the idea amusing. "Well," he said, walking past D to his surprise, "I suppose that you and your friend will have to thank your father for me."

"What?" The child raced after him, "Why would I have to do that?"

Bakura looked down at him, an apologetic half smile still formed on his lips. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to be a burden on him, if he has so many already. I should probably go home now…could you tell him I said thank you? And maybe, if you could, point the way out of here?" His gaze moved back to the corridor that had, until recently, been unknown to him. "It looks like the door on the end doesn't lead out."

D frowned. "Well, I would if I could, but I can't," Pausing for a moment, he thought upon the situation, "Then again, I don't think I would. I mean, what is left up there anyway?"

Bakura blinked and leaned down as if he had not heard what the young boy had said. "What? What do you mean 'what is left up there anyway?'"

"What do you mean what do I mean?" D asked in honest disbelief, "There is nothing up there anymore, unless that explosion failed at doing what it was supposed to do."

"Explosion?" The young man's voice was quiet. It seemed he was realizing something for the first time. "There was an explosion?"

"Yes," D said, rather shortly, "as Father said there would be. Yesterday was the end of the human's reign on this earth. It would be a miracle if someone survived, the way my father was on about it."

"So…" D looked up to see the young man's face twisted into panic and fear. Was there also pain? "Everyone is gone? This didn't affect just one city? Then…how did you survive?"

"We knew about it beforehand," D said, shrugging. "At least, Father did. Why he didn't share this knowledge with anyone but his allies, I do not understand and probably never will. It's –"

"You're lying!" Bakura gasped, covering his mouth, "that would mean all of my family…my friends…are gone. Gone because your father would have been too selfish to warn everyone…and he knew? Why would someone not tell their own kind that they were about to make such a massive mistake? What is the point on saving just a few people, when he could have done more?" Tears were welling in his eyes. He knew it was the truth, but D had to finalize it, because of the indignity of being called a liar was too great.

"I'm not lying, and it isn't like he wasn't protecting his own kind. Humans are only food to him-" It was D's turn to cover his mouth, but the damage had been done. The man before him was staring at him as if he were some sort of monster. It saddened him, as the young man had seemed so nice up until now.

"Well, it's not every day that you find out your race has been wiped out of existence," a raspy voice chuckled.

"Food? FOOD?!" Bakura shrieked, "What the hell is wrong with this place?! Why was I brought here? Am I food? Why did I have to be taken in by a bunch of cannibals?!" He took a step back and tripped, falling flat on his back. There was a quiet moan, and then the questions started again. "Why can't life be normal? And WHY IS EVERYTHING SO GRAY?!"

Amidst the soft sobs now coming from the man, D's voice could be heard with calm, knowing tone. "Not everything is gray. It's actually whiter out here."

"Same difference," he hissed, and then stopped. It was obvious he was ashamed of his attitude, and he was quick to stand up and wipe his eyes of the tears that overtook them. "I'm sorry," he sighed, "I really shouldn't be throwing a fit, especially in front of you. I must seem so childish."

"No you don't," D said, approaching him and patting the hand that hung by his side. It was the closest to compassion that he was used to receiving, and he felt that the man needed comfort. "Seem childish that is. I was being heartless, I have no idea what it is like to loose so many that are important to me, so I'm sorry if I sounded mean." The young man looked down at him and D could see a small smile forced onto his lips.

"I shouldn't have reacted like that though," Bakura continued, "I mean…It was really rude of me to say that your father is a cannibal."

"Well, he isn't," D replied, a little confused. Had not this young man been screaming at him two seconds ago?

"See, and you probably just said something else entirely. I mean, it isn't like your father really thinks that we're all just food."

"Oh, no, he does, for the most part."

Bakura stared at the child for a moment. "You mean that he thinks that we all at one point in time become food for something, right?"

D thought for a moment. Would it be wise to tell him the truth, knowing that he could completely lose it again? It was not like he had been hurt by him, so he decided the poor man needed to know before he died. It was better in his opinion to know his demise than to wait in fear, always wondering.

"No, he does think of humans as food. More than likely that is his reason for bringing you here. You were still alive; he just probably has to check you for radiation poisoning. That or he plans on experimenting on you."

"…" The man was at a loss for words. His mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he were trying to say something, but decided against it. Finally after a period of silence, he spoke. D figured that he was going to flip out again, but his voice had a hint of skepticism in it. He sounded as if he were trying to reason with himself. "Your father does know that he is human right? I mean, that can be the only reason that you'd be saying that. He must have taught you it."

"No," D replied, a little tired with the negative remarks he had to make, "I suppose that there is no point in hiding it anymore. You see, Father is not human. Neither am I. Nor are we crazy. And I suppose for good measure, not everybody died in that explosion. Father would have anticipated that, and probably would have saved more people, because he doesn't like going hungry."

"You're not human?" It was more of a statement, "okay, then, what exactly are you?"

"Well, I'm a dhampir. Father is a vampire."

"You're a dhampir, and he's a vampire?" Bakura asked incredulously, "You can't honestly expect me to believe that."

"But you believe that the world was destroyed," D pointed out.

"I'm not sure what to believe right now," he answered, "I've been through some weird stuff, but this is stretching it a bit. I mean, you're asking me to first believe that the world has been annihilated, then that vampires are real, and then that the vampire had a kid with a human, and no wait, the world couldn't have been totally annihilated, because then your father wouldn't be able to eat, and I was brought here to be food or some experiment." Bakura slumped down onto the floor, glancing up at D again with a smile, as if this had all been a joke, "Hey, I'm sure that whatever game you're playing is fun for you, but I feel like I just fell down more than four flights of stairs and survived. I'm sorry if I scared you before, but the fun has to stop here. If I can't talk to your father, can I speak with your mother?"

D did not speak for a moment, flabbergasted at the fact that the young man was so quick to disbelieve everything just told to him, when he had believed it only seconds before. Did not the situation feel too bizarre to not believe what he said? "My mother died recently," was all he could reply.

The young man stared straight into his eyes when he said this, and his assured expression disappeared, as if he had seen something that he was not expecting. "Oh," he mumbled, "I am sorry for your loss." His gaze moved from D's to the floor, and D could swear he saw tears in the man's eyes again. This young man seemed to be an emotional train wreck.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," D said, nonchalant. "She wasn't very happy anyway; I think that she may have been longing for death. At least that is what I understand from what Father said. A waste, he called it." D laced his hands together and muttered quietly, "I think he may have been the reason though."

Bakura looked up at him, surprised. "Why would you think something like that?"

Sitting next to him on the cold floor, D shrugged. "Whenever we were together, she always looked so sad…I was under the impression from the books that I've read that Father should have been making her happy, and all he said when he told me she was gone was that it was a waste."

"He told you that she was gone? Doesn't that mean she could have just left? Not to offend you or anything," Bakura said hurriedly, rubbing the back of his head.

"I just assumed it I suppose. I haven't seen her since, and all of my other siblings were destroyed when he said they were gone."

Bakura stared at him for what seemed like forever. It made D very uncomfortable, and he was debating yet again if it had been a good idea to talk to a complete stranger like this. He nearly yelped when he was lifted up by the arm and lead to the door at the end of the hall.

"Listen," Bakura said, his voice was stronger and filled with a tone of command that D was surprised to hear, "I don't know what is true, and what isn't. I don't know if I should believe you about a possible apocalypse or if you are a dhampir or what not. I am not going to allow you, though, to continue to live with a man who kills his children. That is what you meant, right?"

"Well, yeah, yes," he quickly corrected himself, "If Father deems them failures, then they are disposed of, but he isn't going to kill me, I've been nothing but useful to his studies."

"I don't care if you were his breakthrough to finding the cure for cancer; I'm getting you out of here. I'm sorry, but your father is not a sane man. No one has a right to take lives like that."

D looked up at him, almost amused. "How are you going to get out?" He pointed to the door. "It's locked, and we aren't even sure if that is the right door."

"Well how did you get into my room?" he asked.

"I picked the lock…" D was not sure he wanted to aid this man's train of thought. He would be in a lot of trouble if Father caught him trying to leave. He was curious though, to see the outside again. It was always a new experience.

"Well then, give me whatever you used and I'll pick it," he said shortly, waving off D's question of how he knew how to pick locks, "It's something I unintentionally picked up, go get your things and come back. I should have this door unlocked in a minute, and then we're out."

D nodded quickly, and ran to his room, picking up his journal and security blanket. His left hand chuckled and D stopped to take a good look at it. "What is so funny?" he asked. They had to hurry, and he did not have time to stop and listen to his hand's banter.

"Oh, I like how you keep changing your mind about this guy," the hand said, sniggering again, "So, when you get out, what are you planning to do? You won't be able to change your mind then."

"I just want to see what he's going to do," D replied, "and then I can come back. Father should still be –" He froze suddenly. There was an aura that he knew better than his own, right by the door that Bakura was attempting to pick. He heard it open, and the young man gave a surprised gasp. D dropped his things, biting his lip. His eyes traveled to his open door. He knew his father would know who opened it.

What ever was going to happen now was not going to be pleasant.