Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!, nor do I own Vampire Hunter D. I also DO NOT own the book Dracula AT ALL. That is Bram Stokers work and owned probably by his estate and all that good stuff.

Again, thank you for being so patient! Happy New Year!

Chapter Seven: It's Only the Beginning

D sat on the hard plastic chair in silence. He could hear two people arguing in the room behind him, but he did not want to listen to it. In fact, he wished he could have been anywhere, even his father's operating table, than in this chair waiting for his best friend to return from his job. The clock above him ticked with insistent persistency. Of all the things that were still working, D figured, it had to be the damned clock.

The voices rose to more than audible tones for D's ears to hear, and D clapped his hands over them to stifle the sound. He did not need to hear about how the boy may need to have his arm in a splint for a few weeks because D sprained it. He did not need to hear that the boy might not be able to breathe normally out of his nose for a month, or longer. He especially did not need to hear that they had to talk to Bakura, and that he was supposed to have been back by now.

As D curled up onto the seat as best he could, his hands still pressed against his ears, he wondered where his friend was. Bakura had been due home at least an hour ago, and even though D was happy for every loud second that went by where he did not have to face those who would punish him for even touching the boy, worry overtook his faltering hope that they would go on at each other's throats for the rest of the night and not his own. D was almost certain of one thing in this strange world, and that was that Bakura would never leave him alone intentionally. To a boy whose imagination was now getting the better of him, the fact that he was not there made the situation worse.

"You don't think he died, do you?" his left hand asked, the innocence in his voice dismissible due to the gleeful sneering tone underneath it.

"Shut up!" the boy snapped, clenching his left hand shut. Now he had one ear open to the conversation. He had just enough time to hear "a danger" before he had hastily opened it again and slammed it against the side of his head so that his left ear rang, muffling the conversation and most of his left hand's laughter.

Just when he felt he would not be able to handle it any longer (time seemed to crawl now, and as another half hour passed by he could swear the ticking was getting louder) the entrance door swung open, and he looked up in shock, fear, and elation. He had arrived, but something was wrong. D remained seated in his strange position, frozen, as the man passed by him seeming not to see him at all. He opened the door to the "Principal's" office, and let it swing shut before D had even mustered one of his muscles to move in that general direction. Suddenly the boy felt a doomed realization pass over him. Bakura already knew. Once again the boy placed his hands over his ears and sighed. He just wanted to be through with it all.

Bakura sat in the chair without so much as a word, looking up at the two men in front of him. One he knew, Honda Hitoro, and one he did not. Looking at the first man made him recall the girl he had just watched die; he had been the one with the crush on her after all. The thought made his inner persona shudder, but what felt like his outer shell was numb, and this was all anyone else could see.

"About time," the man whom he did not know said after a moment of heavy silence.

"Someone died," Bakura responded, staring into Honda's eyes, "I'm sorry that I made you wait." He hoped the voice sounded regretful, but it just felt cold passing through his lips.

"Yes, well," the other man continued, "in any case, we need to talk to you about your…ward."

"I don't see why I would be here if we weren't going to talk about D kun," he stated, emphasizing kun. His eyes still were focused on Honda's, whose own eyes were doing their best to hold his gaze, but shifted to the side here and there as if it hurt to look at him.

"So I take it that Kaiba sama has spoken to you about the situation?"

"Why did something like a playground fight need to be brought up to Kaiba san in the first place?" Bakura asked, straightening himself up more. Honda coughed into his hand, looking irritated.

"It wasn't my idea Bakura," Honda answered.

"You're the principal aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," the man responded, "And I believe we needed to handle the situation in a different manner, but Sakashimi san felt differently on the subject."

Bakura stood, beginning to understand the situation. He bowed to Sakashimi with formal disinterest. "So I believe you are the father of the boy my…son," he said this not forced, but with an uncertainty that the boy would have wanted to be called that by him, "had the fight with?"

"More like your 'son' severely injured mine."

"What exactly happened?" Bakura asked turning back to Honda, "Kaiba san did not have all of the details for me, he was far to busy with other more important things."

"All I know is that words were said, feelings got hurt, and they handled it like boys usually do."

"Normal boys don't beat other boys to the way my son looks like now!" Sakashimi shouted.

Honda shook his head, "I admit that D kun may have gone a little overboard, but I don't think he intended to do that much damage. I do also know he is a rather docile child, and that from one of the child's reports he was not the one to start it. It seems that since they didn't get a rise out of D they were going to go pick on one of his friends."

"A little-?"

"So all of this was just a simple misunderstanding?" Bakura said.

"I would say it isn't!" the other man snapped, moving closer to Bakura as if to try to intimidate him. Bakura raised an eyebrow.

"You do realize that D kun is about a full year younger than your son?" Bakura replied, "And what kind of childhood did you have that you hadn't been picked on by a bully once in your life? Or were you yourself the bully?"

The man's mouth opened and closed, and Bakura could only watch it for so long before he had to turn his attention to Honda in disgust. "I just had a really hard day," he said quietly to the man, "I want to take D kun home and possibly go to sleep. Can we move this along?"

"Yes we can," Honda replied, nodding, "Nothing was out of the ordinary in this situation from what I can see, Tomiichi himself even said he started it, but there was one thing I wanted to talk to you about. I would guess that D kun may be holding in his anger—"

"You would know a little about that wouldn't you?" Bakura said with a soft smile.

"Yes," Honda replied, grinning, "I may have a little experience on the subject; but in any case, I think that D may need an outlet, he does get bullied quite a bit, sorry to say." Bakura could see that he was telling the truth, and nodded. "And there are a few sports still able to be supervised. Why don't you guys come here on Sunday and we'll see which one has some room?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea!" Bakura replied, clapping his hands together, "I'm sure that D kun would feel the same."

"Well I do hope so."

"So that's it?" Sakashimi said, looking at the both of them, "That boy is getting off clean with what he did to my son?"

"I'll talk to him about it," Bakura said, "I'm sure he is very sorry for what he did. Maybe you should talk to your son and remind him that he should treat people with more kindness?"

The other man blinked in surprise, and then glared at the young man before him. Pushing past Bakura, he muttered something that sounded like it's not over and left the room. Bakura looked at the door in silence, and then back at Honda. "I'm going to go home now, ok Honda kun?"

"Yeah," Honda said, "but, could you tell me one thing?" Bakura nodded. "Who died?"

Bakura gave him a sad look and sighed. "It was Miho chan," he replied, watching the man's face, "I'm sorry."

The man looked a little hurt, but strangely enough (and to Bakura's happy surprise) he seemed fine. "I'm sorry as well. It sucks, but I did get over her a while ago. Got Shizuka." His face brightened a little.

"Well, that's good. Can I ask you something?" Bakura said, walking toward the door.

"Shoot."

"How did you end up with this job?"

Honda looked at Bakura and then laughed. "I just think Kaiba hates the old guys." His face suddenly became serious. "But really? We might just be easier to control. Have you noticed our little group, or what remains of our little group, have the high spots in this society?"

Bakura nodded. "I found it strange that I was advanced so quickly. In truth, I don't think I was ready for it."

"Naw man, Jounochi couldn't stop talking about you. He said that he was surprised that a shy kid like you ended up being his most valuable team member. He was the reason you were bumped up, but don't hate him for that."

"Oh, I don't," Bakura said, opening the door, "It might take a while for me to believe I'm good enough for it though…"

"Think about it this way, and I know it sucks, but it's better than beating yourself up about it," Honda added before the young man left, "You are on par with Jounochi. One to one."

Bakura gave a half hearted smile and waved as he closed the door. In truth, he felt useless. He had so many chances to stop the thing, and had missed at possibly the most critical point. As both Kaiba and Honda had said however, he had still done a relatively good job, one for one. Looking down at his blood spattered shirt, he did not feel that he had done one. Turning to D who was now looking up with him in a mixture of knowing and shame, he smiled. It was full of sadness, but it was still a real smile for the boy.

"We need to talk," he said, jokingly, and the boy gave him a tentative hiccup of laughter, "You have been the most normal boy I have ever met, and we need to have a discussion about your natural urge to want to protect your friends."

At this the boy burst into laughter and tears of relief poured from his eyes. Bakura bent down and hugged the huddled child, feeling his own woe slip away as the boy's arms wrapped around him. He may have slipped past exile for his mistake without so much as a slap on the wrists, but if anyone could make him forget this awkward sadness, it was this boy. Petting his smooth dark hair, Bakura lifted the boy and carried him out of the building, smiling softly all the while.

When they returned to the apartment, D hopped out of his arms and hurried inside. He was embarrassed, but the boy could not help but feel content. Bakura was not angry with him, and even better yet, Bakura was alive. The boy began to hum a tune as he passed through the small hallway into his room. It had been Bakura's room before the war had begun, and every night he was able to sleep without fear, and for the past few months he had been able to sleep peacefully, even though he was naturally predisposed to being a wake at night. However, instead of going to his room, he turned into a smaller room when something caught his eye.

It was not that D had not been allowed in this room, and Bakura had mentioned that he had a little shrine for his sister, but he still had never had the urge to look in. Stopping just a few feet into the room he stared at the photograph that was on a small table. It was surrounded by items that looked like toys, and on either side it was bedecked with dried flowers. D wondered, in his child's way, if the flowers that used to be put on the display before the war had been fresh. A small box had been placed at the foot of the table. It was made of a wood that D could not place immediately, and it had designs of plant life atop its lid. There was one thing that D could tell from the box however. It looked expensive, and whenever D had seen expensive things in his previous life (so he would like to call it) interesting things had always been inside. Looking around quickly, making sure he was alone, he scurried toward the box. He stopped again, his hands just inches away from the lid, and listened for Bakura. He could hear pots clinking against tile and glass top of the stove, and sighed in relief. Bakura would not be around to see him, and he did not want Bakura to think he was defiling anything. He was just curious.

He touched the lid with careful fingertips and lifted the lid up. For a moment, he was afraid he had uncovered the girl's ashes, but gave a sigh of relief when he saw something less disturbing. There were a few candy necklaces placed within, and D chuckled when he saw they had been arranged in a specific spiral shape. That was most certainly Bakura's handy work. Closing the lid, D sat back down and wondered what the girl had been like. It seemed like if Bakura was obsessed with anything now a days, it was her. Bakura did not mention it in passing, but D had seen the man duck into the room the boy was now standing in at least twice a week ever since they had been in this building.

"Don't forget, you never did look at those letters," his hand whispered.

This was true. Even though D had been so curious to open those letters that he had seen on his first day in the apartment, he had never touched the box containing them since. They had just been so busy after that, opening the door for the others and clearing all of the bodies out of the building (for there had been quite a sum). Of course D did not handle the bodies, but he had helped in cleaning out some of the surrounding apartments so it at least smelled more pleasant in the hallway. In fact, D had only had a passing glance at the Monster World table as well. He had been interested in that too, and yet there had been no time.

"I know, but—" D started, but then spun around. He had sworn that someone had been watching him, but only an empty doorway greeted him. The boy rubbed his eyes and looked again; still nothing. Turning back around, confused, he looked down at his left hand. It was giving him a strange look.

"Did you hear anything?" he asked, knowing the answer. There had been no strange noises behind him, and he could still hear Bakura making his preparations to begin cooking whatever he was going to cook.

"No, but that wasn't why you turned around, now was it?"

He looked back up at the picture of the young girl. She sat on an object that was not visible in the picture, and it looked like it was in a park. It had the feel of a staged photo done by an amateur, but the girl's smile was real. Her brown eyes flashed with the life of a little girl that was making her way into teenager-dom; kind, mischievous, and self-assured. Her white hair was in a messy ponytail, and it was obvious that she had just been pulled away from playing to take this quick picture. Aside from that however, her clothes were well cared for, and in her hand she held a small ring of flowers that could have possibly been a flower crown. D quickly glanced down and saw the very same ring of flowers placed around the small toys and miniatures, and then looked again at the picture. However there was no more to be seen, it was a rather straight forward picture. D could not shake the feeling that there was something more, though. Her skin was pale, just like Bakura's; her fingers were long like his. It was obvious that they were twins, and D could tell that if she had been allowed to grow up, she would have been a beautiful young woman. Maybe it was just that this was all he knew about her. The picture, the fact that she died in a traffic accident and that Bakura could not stop mentioning her at strange times was all the boy had to go on, and he wanted to know more because he was curious. Just like he was curious about the thing that looked like the Diabound card that Bakura had told him not to talk about, but the boy still thought about it.

"Do you think that…?"

"Do I think that she has anything to do with that strange demon that that kid conjured up? No, I don't, but if you ask me, this crap has gone way out of the stadium of what I'm used to. Hook me back up with good ole' science any day than this mystical crap."

"Vampires are supposed to be mystical creatures, too," D replied, standing up.

"Well, whatever. My point is that I don't think she has anything to do with the crazy stuff that happened; I just think you're making a mountain out of a mole hill because that crazy kook out there can't shut up about her. If you want to worry about someone, don't worry about a ghostly encounter, worry about that lunatic who doesn't want to believe that he can summon very dangerous things into this world."

"He would not hurt me," D snapped, "he cares about me."

"Kid, if you haven't realized it, that guy over there cares about every flippin' thing that comes across his path, and it usually ends up ending nasty."

"Like how?"

"Like that girl who got killed? I know you were listening."

"I…doubt he even knew her."

"Sure, but he certainly sounded sad, and he was in a nasty mood when he first showed up now wasn't he."

"He's just not used to seeing people die, and I bet you it wasn't even his fault!"

"There was blood on him," the hand said in a sing song voice. D shook his head in annoyance.

"You just don't understand him," D replied angrily.

"Oh, and you do?"

D did not reply. Instead, he knelt down before the shrine in a fashion that a former priest had shown him years ago, and folded his hands together, crushing his left with his right so he would not have to hear the other voice. He closed his eyes and hoped that what he was about to do would not be too painful. D did not believe what he was about to do was the same thing, or even apart of the same religion, but he was none the less timid when he uttered the first words.

"Uh…Amane? I don't know if you know me, but your brother takes care of me. I don't even know if you can hear me, but it's worth a shot I think. I don't think I ever would have believed in ghosts or spirits or really magic at all if I didn't know your brother. My father was a bit scientific you see, and he believed that we all evolved into the way we are…but, I can see that I'm getting off topic. I don't want to bother you if you can hear me, I'm sure that dead people prefer to sleep or do whatever it is that dead people do and not be bothered by little nosy kids who probably have no business being on this earth anyway.

Before I get any further away from what I wanted to say, Amane, I wanted to ask you, if you are the person I just felt or perhaps just maybe…the thing that is bringing the cards to life or something…could you stop? Bakura sama really needs to live a normal life now, and I think he could do it a lot quicker if he could, let go of you. So, tell him it is okay or something, just to let you go…that way he can stop acting weird like he does sometimes. I care about him a lot, he's my best friend, and well, he's the only person I have in this world that actually cares about ME. He knows what I am and still likes me," D paused for a moment before adding, "Thanks for listening. I'm D by the way."

Standing up, D bowed to the shrine and turned away. He felt better, as if he had been holding his breath in this whole time, and now he had let it out. The parasitic being in his left hand resurfaced, a little perturbed. It eyed the boy as he was about to exit the room.

"Why'd you do that?" It asked. D stopped and looked down at the hand, confused.

"Why not? If it could work, why should I not try to stop something that may be hurting Bakura sama?

"Yeah, but did you ever think that if she was real or was around, that you may have just royally pissed her off? It was her brother first you know." With that, the hand chuckled and its face disappeared. D frowned and was about to respond when he heard a loud thump from behind him. The boy's eyes widened in fear (if the shrine had fallen apart in any way Bakura would have his head for sure, whether he liked him or not) and he spun around quickly to survey the damage before Bakura noticed.

A book that had been half hidden by one of the items on the shrine had fallen to the ground, its spot now obvious to D, and the fact that it was far away from it did not escape him. Picking the book up, D ran his fingers over the used cover, freezing when he read the title. There was no possible way.

Flipping the book open, D was momentarily distracted by a childish scrawl on the inside of the cover. There were doodles that had been colored in, and then re-colored with mustaches or fangs. Some of the doodles were just faces with little peace sign hands next to them. It was cute in a strange sort of way; it outlined a small paragraph with symbols that D recognized automatically as Bakura's handwriting. D took another look back and then began to read the note.

- Amane chan,

I picked this out for you for your tenth birthday! Mom said it was not like the movie that Dad let us watch, and that it is really long and in English, but I know you'd like it anyway. We can try to read it together for fun, and if we have to, we'll use the dictionary that Grandma gave me for our birthday last year (Remember what she said? Learning things is the best gift! Well, we all know what I think...). That should confuse them all!

And anyway, you wanna be a vampire for Halloween, so you have to read about him! He's like, the first one!

Love your big brother,

Ryou

D closed the book, staring at the title again. He did not know if it was an omen, or just coincidence, but for all the reading he had ever done, he had never seen this book, and if it was her, what did it mean; if it was not, what then?

"Dracula…" He muttered, and then shivered. D was so deep in his thoughts he did not hear the muffled footsteps that approached him.

"D kun? Where are you? I have a surprise for you…" Bakura stopped, nearly dropping the bag that he had been carrying. The boy turned around quickly, clinging to the book. A shocked look was spreading across his face. Bakura got a better hold on the pack, and smiled at the boy.

"You startled me! I wasn't expecting you to be in here," he started, kneeling down and ruffling the boy's hair. D gave him a look that was almost distrustful, and Bakura's smile faded. "What do you have in your hands?"

"I didn't take it," D replied, realizing how guilty that made him sound. "It fell."

"Take what?" Bakura asked, and held out his hand for the book which D tentatively returned. Bakura looked at the book with a sad expression, leafing through the pages, pausing to read a passage that had a note in the corner of the page here and there. He closed the book slowly, stood there a few moments looking at the front and then gave it back to D, who took it, his shock turned into surprise.

"That was one of our favorite books to read when we were younger," Bakura said, sitting in front of the shrine. He glanced at the boy and patted the floor beside him, offering him a spot to sit. D sat beside him, eyeing the picture that was slightly above them with uncertainty. Bakura smiled faintly and added, "We didn't understand a lot of it, and we both thought that some of the descriptions were too long and unnecessary, but we had fun trying anyway." D watched the man's fingers unconsciously trace the edges of the book. "I know that she is gone, D kun…but I know that look you give me when I stay in here too long, or I mention her at odd times. I can't help it," the man stopped for a moment, bowing his head and D wondered for a moment if he should be feeling this way about his mother, or feeling the shame of not understanding the situation, "I just…miss her. I miss her so much, and I never…I never really could talk to anyone about it. I know I shouldn't be talking to you about it, you're just a kid, but—"

"When did she die?" D asked, and was surprised at how soothing it sounded to his own ears. Tears were forming in Bakura's eyes, and the only thing that D could guess in what to do was to hug the man, no matter how awkward it felt. For this moment, the roles were reversed.

"We were thirteen. She and my mother were going to a dentist appointment. I don't know the details, I was at school. Something happened; Amane chan flew from the car, and was run over right afterward. I was sent to the hospital because I was having stomach pains, and then I remember my dad coming into the room and…" he paused, sniffled, and then continued, "he was crying."

"Was that that one thing that twins can do?" the boy asked, his curiosity unmasked, "Feel what the other is going through?"

Bakura gave a half-hearted laugh. "I have no idea," he replied, "All I know is that my dad came in, and told me that both my mother and my sister had died. My mother had died instantly, Amane chan…after being run over. My mother's shrine is over there," he pointed a few feet away, and D realized that he had never noticed it, and felt horrible instantly. Maybe he was not in the room the whole time just talking to his dead sister. The boy could tell right away that they were related as well; the hair, the eyes, the soft, knowing smile. He wondered if he looked anything like his mother, he could hardly remember her. She had always been in the dark anyway, her hair covering her face. He could not even remember seeing her smile in the last days he had seen her, not even that sad one that was on Bakura's mouth at the moment.

"I never got to say goodbye, to either of them," the young man went on, "I loved my mother, don't get me wrong, but Amane chan's death hurt the worst. She was my other half, the part of me that I couldn't be, and I was the part of her that she couldn't be. I thought I understood it when Yugi kun had to let Atemu go, that they had been just as close, but he got over it, and I never have. I think it might be just because I never…"

"But you say you feel her sometimes," D interjected, hoping the man would not begin to cry again. It always made the boy feel uncomfortable.

"Yeah, and I really do. Sometimes she's here, and sometimes it feels like she is just, gone."

"Maybe you…should…let go?" D mumbled, half hoping the man would hear it anyway, which he did.

"Let go? Of Amane chan?" Bakura laughed, and it was a laugh that D was so unused to from his friend he almost backed away from him. Almost. It was the laugh of a lunatic, and D wondered for a moment if his little parasite had been right all along.

"I couldn't let go if I wanted to."

"Why not?" D inquired, worried.

"Let's not talk about it. I had a real other half, she's dead. I had another one, who I have no idea if it was me or not and he's dead. I don't need to go jinxing myself anymore. Anyway, I have something to talk about with you."

"Oh, okay," D replied, dropping the subject externally. Internally, he fumed. He could not stand the fact that they would get so close, that he would possibly understand Bakura just a little better, and then the subject would be dropped so quickly that D speculated if Bakura even realized that he had started the conversation in the first place. There was something else, however, that trumped this anger. "Can I ask one thing, though?"

"Hm?" Bakura stopped in a half standing and half sitting position. D remained seated, his hands clasped in the same fashion that Bakura had seen when he had first met the boy. The boy opened his mouth, closed it, and then with renewed courage began to speak.

"Could you read it to me?"

Bakura blinked. "Read what?"

"The book, Dracula?" The boy felt the unintentional shift of pronunciation and hated himself for it. He wanted so much to just be like Bakura, aside from the sister complex, but he felt himself slipping ever slowly toward is father. He never wanted to be like him ever, and he wanted to make sure, in every way, that he never did. Bakura thought D's father was a bad man, and D thought Bakura was a good man, therefore in his simple logic, Bakura was always right.

Bakura smiled, and gave the boy a pat on the head. "You do that pretty well," 'Amane chan would have loved to know you,' he thought quickly, "and yes, I can do that. Now come out here and I'm going to give you something you should have taken last week."

D wrinkled his nose, "Do I have to?"

Bakura laughed. "Yes, you do. And it isn't a bad thing if you like it," D frowned, "But, I have a real surprise for you, after dinner." He saw the boy's eyes light up and laughed again. He was adorable, there was no doubt.

"Ice cream?" D exclaimed, eagerly following him now, forgetting about all that had just happened. "You bought ice cream? Can I have some?" Bakura nodded and as they walked towards the kitchen, Bakura felt the rest of his sadness from the day melt away.

After dinner (and ice cream), Bakura finally found the time to cut the boy's hair. D requested that his hair stay long, but was more than happy to loose five inches so he could sit comfortably. Afterward, Bakura let the child take control of the scissors and cut his hair. He had not been expecting much, in fact, he had expected his hair to be a short chopped up mess, but D surprised him yet again. He was no barber by any means, but when Bakura looked in the mirror his hair was relatively the same length and style as when they had first met.

"You have no end to your talents do you, D kun?" Bakura asked. D shifted in his chair, embarrassed and pleased with himself. Then his pleased disposition faltered, and he had a sad look once again.

"I can't swim though," the child replied, "That's a talent I'll never have."

"Nonsense," Bakura declared, "in fact, Honda kun said he thinks it would do you some good if you had a little extracurricular activity added to your schedule. I'm sure they still have swimming. We'll teach you in no time." D gave him an insecure look, and Bakura could not help the urge to pick him up. "You'll be fine," he said as he walked him to the boy's room, "I'll be right there, and I can swim. So, Sunday we'll go out there, and see if we can't get you in a swimming class or something."

D rested his head against the crook of the man's neck; the pulsing of his blood was more soothing now that the child had been fed. He did not respond to the man, but when he was placed on the bed, he motioned to the book that had been put on the nightstand. Bakura looked at it and nodded, picking the old book up and leaning back against the wall to get a comfortable sitting position on the bed. D lay against him in order to read the words as he spoke them. They had done this only twice before, but D found that he enjoyed listening to the man talk, and it was funny to hear him struggle with some English words when presented with them. He did however sit up rather quickly when he caught the beginning of the chapter.

"This written like a journal?" the boy asked.

Bakura nodded, "Yes, and it can get a little dry, but it is supposed to get you inside each character specifically I think, and understand each of their trials and things like that." The boy gave an 'oh' and settled back down. "Okay, Johnathan Harker's Journal," Bakura paused before saying journal, and D could not help but giggle when the man finally said it, "Third of May, B..b...Biztriz. Left Munich at eight thirty five p.m., on first of May, arriving at Vienna…"

D listened and followed with rapt attention, only flinching a little at a familiar name here and there, but otherwise giving no reason for Bakura to worry about him. By the time that the moon was high in the sky, and for all the city's lights to go out, D was snoring softly, his head against the left side of the young man's chest. Bakura looked down at the boy, realizing this and smiled. Marking the book, he set again on the desk beside the bed and carefully removed D from his position to place his head on the pillow and cover him with blankets. Bakura flicked the light off, and paused in the doorway for a moment, looking back at the sleeping figure with love in his eyes before cracking the door and heading off to his bedroom.

The apartment was silent for two hours aside from the sleeping figures in their respective rooms. The wind whistled its lonely tune through the crack of the partially opened sliding door that had been left open to keep the other rooms at a decent temperature (for although they had electricity, the apartment's air conditioning and heating unit was completely blown out), and the refrigerator hummed along with it. It was peaceful, quiet, and safe.

Then two eyes opened in the darkness, two cold eyes that waited until they had seen what they had needed to, and the dark mass rose up and began to walk, setting things into motion once again.