Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! I don't own Vampire Hunter D. As a side note, very surprised to see that my really old story is getting attention o.o;;;

Chapter Eight: Amane

D scanned the area, his ears picking up the soft breathing from down the hall, and nodded to himself. Bakura was asleep, and D could not imagine the man waking up after such an ordeal from earlier that day. Sliding out of bed, the child made sure that his footsteps were silent (lately he had been putting more force in his step as footsteps were a normal noise) as he walked toward the closet. Opening the door he looked up into the darkness, finding what he wanted immediately. Putting each foot against the doorway, D shimmied himself upward until he could reach the object. After steadying himself, the boy reached out and took the box in his arms, the weight nothing to him, and dropped down to the ground, his feet making only enough noise to be hidden by a breath. He carried the box to the bedside and placed it on the mattress with care.

"So you finally found time for it?" his hand questioned. D did not reply, but closed his left hand to demand silence. He did not need Bakura waking up to see what he was doing. Lifting each envelope with great care, he looked at each one, trying to figure out which way everything started. The man's scrawl had not changed very much over time, but D had a keen eye, even in the darkness, and could tell where the motor skills had been less honed and the symbols less practiced. When he was sure that he had the order right, he pulled out the first letter and felt the back of the envelope. Time had worn away the sticky seal and it was more than easy to open it with little chance of Bakura noticing. He hoped the others would be similar. Pulling the letter out, he unfolded it and began to read.

Dear Amane,

It's been a week. I'm out of the hospital now. Dad says that we'll be holding a service for you and mom soon. He took time off of work for this, and he just needed to finalize something before we could go through with it.

I went to the psychiatrist today. Dad made me go. He said that it might make me feel a little better about the situation. I don't. The psychiatrist told me that writing down my feelings would probably help. I decided to write to you instead. I'll make something up later for him to read, but I want to talk to you.

I miss you, Amane, why did you have to go? We joked that I'd be the first to go…because guys die sooner. I feel so alone. What is going to happen when dad has to go to his expeditions?

Please come back.

Love,

Ryou

(D replaced the note, briefly thinking about how Bakura had just been reading fictional journals to him before opening the next one.)

Dear Amane chan,

Today your big brother went to the psychiatrist again. It's been about a month since I last wrote to you. I've just been so sad, and even the thought of doing this makes me cry. Anyway, the psychiatrist says I may need to take pills due to "the deep depression that has come about." Well excuse me, but if his sister had died, I'm sure that he would be sad too. Of course, I think I have a better reason; we are inseparable. I suppose that this hurts more because I can't see you, and I know that we belong together, well, our souls do anyway. I don't want to sound weird. Oh, I picked up a really neat book on witchcraft today; I know you would have liked that. I'm reading it during lunch. These things are just so fascinating, what if they were real? Of course, most of this stuff would just kill someone, so I suppose someone could really make a poison from scratch… (D continued reading the four pages of back to front explanations of what was in the book with a bit of chagrin, it was long, put too simply, and it reminded him enough of his father that he wanted to be through with it as soon as possible)…Anyway, I'm not going to take any medication. Dad's going to have to like, sneak it into my food if he thinks that's going to work. I feel better already, just writing to you. I just have this feeling that you can read this…or will be able to once I 'send' it to you. I have to go now though, so I'll write later.

Love, your big brother,

Ryou

Continuing to go through the letters D found most to be a repetition of how the teen missed his sister, and how his day to day routines seemed to be meaningless without her. It was not the usual teen angst or depression that D had read about in his father's psychology books; the young man did not blame his father or anyone else, nor did he have the need to lash out at anyone (at least he never mentioned it). He did not hate life; he was just sad.

It was in the last letter in the first row that caught his attention again.

Dear Amane,

How have you and mom been? Your big brother's been okay for the most part. Dad's been gone for a while; he's on another expedition out in the deserts of Egypt. He sent me a package yesterday. In the letter he said that he just had this feeling that I'd like it. I opened it and I found a pendant that had five dangling points and a pyramid in the middle of a ring with an eye in it. It really is something else, and it looks like it should have come from a tomb or something. If that is true then I don't know how he managed to get it over without the government throwing a hissy fit about it. Then again, that's dad for us, a regular new age tomb robber…ha, ha, ha.

I'm wearing it around my neck right now, and I can tell you Amane, it is heavy. Not uncomfortably heavy, but I've never had anything this heavy around my neck before. I think it would suit you better, you like big jewelry, but so long as I keep it under my shirt I think I'll be okay. I don't need anyone calling me a girl, now do I.

You know, I had some of my friends over today to play Monster World with me, and I leveled up Zork. It's fun to play with them, I wish I could play with them forever…I'll write to you later.

Love,

Ryou

D had a feeling that he was going to see the beginning of all the boy's troubles with the item, and the next letter did not surprise him.

Dear Amane,

I can't believe it…It's just too weird. I was playing with one of my friends today (dad was home, I know, it's weird too, isn't it?) and they just fell over out of their seat for no reason. He was limp and didn't move when I shook him, and when we took him to the hospital, they said he was in a coma. It was really scary, and out of nowhere. The doctor says he was perfectly healthy, but he didn't respond to anything. I've been asked over a thousand times about what happened. I don't know what else to say. He was fine one moment, well as fine as someone who lost a game, and then he was just on the ground, not moving…

I'm really worried about him Amane; I hope he is going to be okay. I'll write more later but right now dad is calling me over. I think he's going to ask me what happened again.

Love, your brother,

Ryou

Dear Amane,

How are you doing? I'm fine. Your big brother has been getting forgetful recently. I still can't believe that it's Sunday already. This week has gone by so fast. I know that I haven't written in a few months, but it's just been so hectic over here. Dad's home again, and everything is just kind of getting worse. Don't worry about me though, I'll be fine. I feel fine at least, but my friends…

It just keeps happening, and I don't know what to do. It even happens the same way each time. I invite a friend or a bunch of friends over, I play Monster World with them (by the way, Zork is leveling like crazy), and then they all fall into comas. I can't think of anything that would make that happen. I've been really careful when I invite people over. I don't let them eat anything in the house, I make sure that everything is clean and no one is allergic to anything, and they still are going into them. I am getting really worried, and so is Dad. He is going to be leaving soon for another excavation, and then he is going to contact someone from another museum over there and they are going to swap exhibits. He wants to stay, but this would be really beneficial as the two teams could work together to possibly find out more information about who was the pharaoh of Egypt about three thousand years ago. He says they haven't found any names lately, but a lot of the stuff they have been finding has been dating back to then. It's probably a good thing, I don't want him to get hurt, and I'm getting the feeling that this all might have to do with me. I mean, they are all fine before they come here…

A lot of kids at school are thinking about that too. Some of my classmates don't talk to me anymore. But don't worry; your big brother isn't too sad about it. Like I said, it is probably for the best. You know, I read in one book about poltergeists and stuff that it usually happens when there are teenagers about. I don't know how credible this all is, but it is still interesting. I don't think that poltergeists do things like put people in comas though.

I'm sorry if I scared you, but I can't imagine any other explanation.

Love,

Ryou

Thirteen more letters expressed the teen's trepidation, and D realized that he was no longer learning anything about Amane, but about the boy who was being dragged down into some strange magic that he had no knowledge of, even when he searched in every medicinal or occult book he could find. Within the last letter it almost seemed as though he was as much intrigued about his ignorance as he was frightened. D did his best to ignore the parallels between Bakura and his father, even if they were vague parallels. Having a child's mind, having any similarity was just too much for him. He continued with the young man's journey; how the police were interested in the cases, how Bakura was afraid that he may one day hurt his father if indeed he was the reason (which was true enough, sad as it was) and how he was going to move to Domino City, where his father could see him occasionally because he was the curator of the museum there. Bakura had made some ridiculous story of how he had wanted to try to see what it was like living on his own for the most part, and his father had agreed, finding his interest in independence a possible step away from an 'unnatural clinginess' that the boy had gained after his sister's death.

Nearing the end of the long line of letters, D noticed that the one he now held had been hastily folded and shoved into the envelope, as if there had been some emergency, or if someone else had done the deed and had not taken the time to painstakingly crease the paper just right so it would fit snuggly in the envelope. He pulled it out, interested in what it could have to say. Each letter thus far had been moving strangely away from the fact that Amane had passed on, and they were turning more into letters as if she were still alive, just far away. It unnerved the boy to think that his friend had spiraled downward in his understanding of the situation. It was so backwards, and as the boy read it, it seemed that the young man seemed to be preoccupied.

Dear Amane,

How is school? How are you and mother? Your big brother went to his new school today. I'd been there a little while and on the very first day I made some friends. They asked to come visit me in my apartment. I'm looking forward-

It ended abruptly, and the line that ended the symbol slashed across the paper as if the young man had turned suddenly. D could almost see it. A noise or voice of some sort pulling the young man's attention away from the paper, confusion and worry in his voice as he made the silly but understandable move of calling out to see if anyone was there. He was positive that he would not have to look at another letter to figure this out. It also explained the hasty way the letter had been treated. That had been the other half that had done it; the spirit of the Ring. He did not know why it was so frightening just to think about it, as Bakura had said, it was long gone now, but looking down at his own left hand gave him chills. 'He was worse than you,' the boy thought.

"I don't know about you," the hand piped up as the boy returned the box to its usual resting place, having no interest in reading any of the other letters, "But I think we learned jack crap about the girl, and more about how we should stay the hell away from that guy. He's crazier than I thought, writing letters to his dead sister."

"Shut up," the boy grunted, heaving the box forward. He was having difficulty fitting the box where he had found it. Reaching behind it, his feet on tiptoe, he felt two packets and pulled them away. The box slid back neatly.

Holding the packets to where he could see them, he wondered aloud what they were, but closed his lips tight when he realized it. He did not want Bakura to wake up and find him snooping around. Going back to his bed, he dumped the packets out onto the mattress and viewed them with increasing amusement. Here he could view the young man at quite possibly the very age he was now if not a year older or younger.

Pictures had flopped out of the packets with ease, mixing in such a haphazard way that he could not figure out which went to what packet. Some held pictures of simple things, like presumably the man's mother making breakfast in the kitchen, with a young Amane straining to reach into the pot with her spoon to help stir, and Bakura hamming it up for the camera, pulling the corners of his mouth wide and crossing his eyes. Other pictures, more simple to the eyes of someone like Bakura but extremely fascinating to the boy, were pictures of the park and the beach. He had seen real, wild greenery when they had escaped the compound, but this was another sight to behold entirely. People strolled through the serene scene in summer clothing; the trees beckoned some with their shade, the fountain in the middle spurt forth crystal clear water while children tried to catch the liquid to toss at one another. In another picture, the twins were tumbling down the sand dune to the water's edge, daring it to get them wet. A blue haired man with glasses was running toward them, trying to catch them, for he had seen the water was moving faster than the children believed. D smile widened at each picture he looked at. Everything was calm, everything was right. Looking out through his window the boy saw the ruined remains of a city and his smile dropped immediately. It seemed that the real happy, carefree days were gone already, in his eyes, and they were gone before he even got to know them for himself.

Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as he turned back to the pictures, but their glamour was lost. They were false promises in his hands, the past, and something that would never return, at least not like that if his father had anything to do with it. The boy had a sneaking suspicion that his father would have something to do with it if he got the chance. The closest thing the boy had was a broken man who slept a few rooms away from him, plagued by nightmares when he slept and exaggerated optimism when he was awake.

The sudden thud of something heavy in another room made D jump, forgetting his morose thoughts, and he ran to the doorway to peep into the hallway, which even to his keen eyes seemed dark and ominous. He mustered up his courage and took a step forward when he saw there was no one in his immediate vision. His light step did not fail him, and even when he put his weight down on a notably squeaky board it did not make a sound. The boy continued on this way for a couple of moments before becoming irritated with his slow pace and took in a deep breath.

"Bakura sama?" the boy called out into the darkness. When no reply came he tried a different approach. "Amane san?"

For a moment he actually expected the sound to repeat itself, but chastised himself for even getting the notion after a few seconds standing there in the dark. "Dead people can't talk," he whispered to himself, "stop being so foolish."

"Starting to sound like that Bakura kid," the parasite muttered. He would have said more if D had not shushed him. The boy had heard another thump, and a dragging sound of metal on metal. He did not know what was going on until the cool night air reached him, cooling his face and filling his nostrils with clean air. Someone was either coming inside or going outside.

"Bakura sama?" he called again, unable to mask the squeak of fear that was laced within his voice. Again no one responded, and D began to wonder why Bakura had not woken up by now, he had called for him twice, albeit his second attempt was far quieter. Usually when the boy called for him he was up and in a panic.

By now he had reached the opening within the hallway where it spilled into the living room and could feel the wind coming from the widened opening in the sliding glass door. A lonely figure stood in between the frames, one hand pressed against the wall, another clinging to the glass door. D could see the person's fingers outlined in white on the glass, the pane warmed by their touch. Their hair blew across their face, but since they were looking outside he could not tell immediately who it was due to his shock. That a person was actually standing there in the middle of the night was alarming enough in this "city" that had such a strict curfew code. As the shock wore off, however, the boy knew who it was, and walked up to them with fear no longer gripping his innards.

Bakura stood tall, a pale statue against the dark background, his eyes scanning for something unseen. They had a dead look to them, and after a few moments of standing there his face would contort and he would seem like someone else all together. His eyes would narrow, his pupils would contract, and he would get a grimace as if he were thinking hard about something. The next moment his face would relax and the young man would look normal, sleepy, disoriented, but his eyes just as dead looking. The pupils would dilate and his eyes would widen, and then his face would repeat the previous motions. His breathing never changed, it remained in the calm deep breaths of one that was asleep no matter how quickly his face changed or even when he rocked forward, startling D to where he put both hands on the man's stomach to keep him from falling over.

"Bakura sama!" the boy exclaimed, "what's wrong?! What are you doing out here?"

The man continued to stare forward as if he had not heard him, and the boy realized he was holding himself up and that the boy's firmly planted hands were doing nothing to help. Lowering his arms he watched as the man staggered over to the balcony's edge, muttering something that D could not understand. It was not in any language he had ever heard before.

"Bakura sama!" he repeated, grabbing the man's hand and tugging on it, "What are you doing? Wake up!"

"Do you hear it?" The response was so quick and unrelated that the boy could only stand there in confusion.

"Hear what?" D asked after the man refused to say more. He had not turned to the boy when he had spoken, but remained stoic and in whatever trance he was in.

"The voices," the man responded as if the boy should have known.

D listened hard. There were no voices coming from anywhere aside from their own mouths. The wind was gusting through the dilapidated buildings and bringing forth a scent that D did not recognize well. It smelled of water, wet dirt, and promised something to cool the air further. With an educated guess the boy tugged on the man's hand again and motioned to the apartment. "There are no voices," D said, afraid, "That's just the wind. It's going to rain, I think, so we should go inside."

"I hear them," the man said dreamily, "they want me to go that way…" he used his free hand to point to the east, "or that way," he pointed to the west, "either way will take me there…"

"To where?" the boy questioned, not seeing anything of importance.

"Ocean," the man said simply, "I need to cross two in the east and one if I go west, but going west is harder. It's where the others really come from."

"Why do you have to cross the oceans, Bakura sama?"

"To find…" his eyes narrowed suddenly and the man began speaking something in gibberish, only to stop a few seconds later, "I can't hear them when they talk like that," he spat, his voice retaining it's harder tone, "It, they, he, she…I need to fix me."

"Fix you?" the boy inquired, more lost than he originally was. Bakura was acting strange, and D did not like it, not one bit.

"Me," he growled, and his voice changed again, back to the one the boy was most familiar with, the one that could comfort him with a few words, however he was not comforted by it now, no matter how soft and soothing it was. "I have to find the other me," he stated, more coherent than before, although his voice retained the dreamer quality to it, "and Yugi should too. These are dangerous times, darkness…the light can't hold it back for long this time. It's in the blood now," he looked at D finally, and his blank stare made D wish he had never gone to look for the source of the noise in the first place, "You aren't the first to have the darkness, but you have the light in you as well, that is how it should have been. It should have been balanced, but the light was too greedy in the beginning, and then the darkness followed, and they fought."

D shook his head, "You aren't making sense, Bakura sama, let's just go inside, please?"

The man looked away again, "You need the darkness to fight the darkness, and it's nothing like fire with fire. The light now is too dim; they need the traitors from the inside. The time for unity is back again, thousands of years too early."

"Are you saying that you want to go get the Millennium Items?" D asked, the blabber now piecing itself together, "I thought they were bad?"

"They are used for evil and for good, how else could the pharaoh feel the need to act so righteous?" Bakura stated, his eyes flashing with life for a moment, and his lips curling into a snarl, "Stupidity labels them, they are neutral by default, but yes, darkness is what they were made from. It's the souls that give it power, and the souls attracted to darkness are usually evil by nature. That or harmed by 'the light' in such a way they feel the need for revenge."

"Who are you?" D inquired, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. Bakura had said the other spirit had left, but from his actions it seemed to not be so.

"I'm Bakura Ryou," the voice replied softly, the features on the man's face softening, "Incomplete, unfairly incomplete. I need a full soul to stop the madness that has overtaken this world. Amane says so." The man's face broke out into a smile so bright and lively that it was as if D was looking at the pictures of the better times. "I can see her if I go. The voices said I could." His brightened eyes returned to their deadened state and the man said, "I'll help you stop your father, and we'll live in a world far better than this, I promise you. Even if it takes me a hundred thousand years…" before he collapsed, his head hitting the concrete wall with an unexpected crack. D screamed, completely taken by surprise.

It was the scream that seemed to rouse the man, and he was back up on his feet in seconds, blood gushing down his face. Bakura looked around confused and out of breath, and when his eyes settled on D who looked alarmed but relieved, he took in a deep breath and calmed himself. It was then he realized he was freezing, and the side of his head throbbed with sharp pangs. He lifted a hand to the side of his head and tenderly investigated the cut. He brought his hand to where he could see it, and in the dark it seemed as if it was covered in a black mass. The smell of blood reached his nose and he gagged, swaying forward again, this time needing the boy's support. It brought back the memory of carrying the blood soaked woman back from the hospital, and he had to close his eyes and remain hunched over to allow the newfound nausea to pass.

"Bakura sama?" the boy asked carefully.

"What is going on?" he asked, trying to stand on his own, "Why are we outside?"

"…you walked out here in your sleep," D lied, feeling that it would be best to keep the strange gibberish the man had been spouting a secret. As much as he somewhat appreciated the loyalty the man had expressed in a cause the boy himself had not even thought of yet, the rest of it was too confusing to even try to explain, "and I heard something, so I came out here and you startled me. I screamed and you fell."

Bakura had a feeling that what the boy was saying was not true, but he dropped the subject, too tired and too much in pain to really care. He took the boy's hand, forgetting that his own was covered in blood and led him inside, closing the door the whole way this time. He ruffled the boy's hair and told him to go to bed, that he would see him in the morning, and went into his own bedroom, lying on the bed and telling himself that he would clean his face in the morning as the cut had already stopped bleeding. He sighed, content under the covers and thought, 'When it all goes to hell, we go east.' Unsure of where the thought came from, the man drifted to sleep that was marred by unsettling and inconsistent dreams.

D on the other hand watched as the man wandered into the bedroom and sighed. Things were getting too strange for the boy's liking. As he wandered back into his own room, he glanced into the shrine room and stared in confusion. One of the toys that had been on Amane's "table" had been flung unceremoniously to the wall parallel to the living room, and D realized there had been nothing wrong with any of the other rooms, and that when thrown, it would have sounded like something was in the living room.

"You still think that guy is the greatest thing since ice cream?" his hand offered and D glared down at him. Picking up the toy and putting it back on the shrine, he shook his head and stuck two bloody fingers in his mouth unintentionally.

"This is just ridiculous," he muttered, and swore with all his heart for the first time as he went into his own room with no intention of sleep. However, as he lay his head down with his fingers in his mouth, he sunk into the calming darkness with his last coherent thought being the untainted smile on his friend's face, and wishing he could see it again.