Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! nor do I own Vampire Hunter D.

Be prepared for this chapter, as said in Fallout 3, "it's like downing a handful of sugar and punching yourself in the head". Which is to say, even if it isn't seasonally right in the chapter, this is a perfect squishylove fest for Christmas. Believe me, after these next few chapters, it will be necessary for it to have been there.

And Aldedron, if you want to, I would be honored if you would be my beta reader. To everyone, thank you all for the reviews! I'm sorry it took so long...

Merry Christmas !~

Chapter Ten: Water

It was never ending, this stretch of blue. The white of the surf beckoned to the other children, promising a salty and cool envelope of liquid, a chance to be children of the world again. They ran gaily through the sand, kicking up the minute flecks of rock and shell as their excitement got the better of them. There were surprised screams as the water touched their warm skin, freezing them only for a few moments before they continued to trudge through the surf, the shock of the cold subsiding. They knew where it was safe to go, they had done this before. A lone, broken piece of dock had been anchored to the bottom of the sea floor by an adult so they could all rest at the finish point or eat their lunches amidst the sea air. The sun shined through the clouds that had sprinkled them with summer rain only a few days ago. Rain that thankfully had not been irradiated, although the children did not know or care about this little bit of information. Everything was perfect.

Or so it should have been.

A lone boy stood at the edge of the water, watching as the waves sucked themselves down and then threw themselves back against the sand, chasing his feet as he backed away from it. A bath was one thing; a shower had been one thing as well. He watched the children bob around in the water, laughing and squealing as waves moved them from one side to another. He glanced back at the small congregation of adults, some who watched him with pity. One gave him an understanding nod and motioned for him to go forward. He turned back to the ocean and took a deep breath, tasting the salty air. Taking a small step forward as the water receded he fought the urge to back away when his foot sunk down into the soaking sand. He managed another step before his heart began to pound frantically in his chest and he stopped, balling his hands into fists to hide his shaking hands. The boy could not swim. What was worse was that he had no idea if he would have enough energy to kick when he got out into the deeper water.

A wave crashed against his legs and his face twitched involuntarily as his body temperature plummeted significantly. It was as if he were back in that strange dream where the darkness sucked the very life out of you. He looked back again and the person who had motioned him on crossed the beach at the protest of another man who he knew as his principal to possibly (hopefully) aid him.

"D kun," Bakura said, crouching to the boy's height, "You'll be fine. I'm right here."

"What if I sink?" D whispered, hearing the other man coming toward them, "What if I get heavy? What if I can't move?"

"You never know until you try, D kun," the man urged patiently, "We've talked about this. Now go on, you're doing fine."

D nodded, and began to walk out into the darker water, ignoring the cold and the voices that the wind carried to him. The children had noticed his insecurity and some of the boys sniggered as he took slow, careful steps toward them. He gasped when he felt the water lap against his waist and his body was sent into a shivering mess. Closing his eyes, the boy tried to forget about what he was doing, just like he had been able to do when his father had taken him under the knife. 'Water should not be as bad as that', he told himself, 'It is only a liquid for goodness sake!'

"D kun?" he heard someone call softly and he opened his eyes to see his friend Amami standing just a little ways in front of him, the water reaching her chest. She gave him a small smile but when he did not return the gesture it disappeared. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I," he began, well aware of the stares from both sides that he was receiving, "I can't swim."

Her face brightened immediately. "I'll help you," she stated, wading to him. D shook his head and took a step back. "Come here."

"Thank you, but I…wave!" He exclaimed, pointing behind her. She looked back with a confused look and an unusually large wave carried her up. D yelped and pushed himself backwards, turning halfway before the wave smacked into him causing him to tumble in the water. He felt Amami's leg hit him in the back of the head and he opened his eyes in surprise. The world was a soupy green mixture and he only had a brief moment of realization that his body was still somersaulting in the water before he felt his forehead hit the sand with a thud. It was harder than he had thought it would have been.

Bakura had heard D shout "wave!" while he was in mid sentence with Honda. He had just been explaining that D was not used to the idea of swimming and that he had just needed a gentle push to get him going. Honda thought that the boy needed to find the courage within himself in order for him to begin the learning process to which Bakura had mentioned that unlike the other children who did not know how to swim D had been thrown out there without any flotation devices. Honda had rebutted by saying he did not want to embarrass the boy, and Bakura had been about to state that it was more embarrassing to not have them in the beginning only to get them later on when he had heard the shout. He jerked his head toward the ocean to see Amami flail and fall into the water with a loud splash. He did not see D.

Some of the parents chuckled as if it had just been a pleasant surprise, and the other children continued their games without much thought. Amami resurfaced and made her way up to the beach coughing and laughing all the way. She turned to say something to the boy she had been trying to help, and stopped. He was not there beside her. She looked around first confused, and then fearful.

"Where's D?" Bakura asked, interrupting his own sentence. Honda looked up and followed the man's gaze.

"I don't know," he replied, "do you think he finally went in?"

"No," Bakura replied, running down to where the girl was pacing back and forth calling out for the boy. Some of the children stopped playing and watched as the girl frantically waved her arms about, yelling. The other group on land began to stir, a few made their way down the beach to see what the commotion was about. Suddenly, the white haired man ran into the ocean, clothes and all and the beach became a conglomeration of confusion and panic.

D felt his fingers touch the grainy sand and dug his fingers into the ground. He dared to open his eyes again, the water stinging them as he did so, and watched as a cloud of sandy particles drifted toward the surface. He sluggishly turned to see the partially uncovered sun shine above him. He was freezing and he wanted to do nothing more than sleep. The water flowed past him, pulling him to deeper depths no matter how far he tried to force his hand under the sand. With a powerful pull from the undertow D's fingers found themselves clawing at cloudy water and D had to close his eyes again, the stinging too great. His lungs burned for air. Opening his eyes, once again ignoring their protesting tears (much good they did him here) he looked back toward the surface wondering how far he had been pulled into the water, or how long he had been down there. It could not have been too long, his mind cried this logic; otherwise he would have been dead.

He could hear the thudding splashes of people in the distance and he knew that he had probably strayed away from the "safe zone" (to which he mentally laughed at, his sarcasm still intact) and if he did not find a way, or at least crawl his way to the surface, he would be dead in the next twenty seconds or so. He could feel his body wanting to give up and expel the stale air in his lungs, but he would not allow it. He was not going to die.

Struggling to get his body into action, he maneuvered his feet under him and looked up once again. He could still see the sun, so he knew he was not too far down, but it was fainter than the first time he had noticed it. It could have been due to cloud cover, but D had noticed the water around him had become cooler and the pressure on his ears greater; he was probably, no, at least twenty feet underwater, the water had calmed and even though he had sunk this entire way, he could feel buoyancy trying to work it's magic on his body. Closing his eyes and begging for this chance to work D propelled himself from his starting point in a diagonal direction towards the shallow end.

"D!" Bakura cried, getting a mouthful of saltwater. He gagged and had to stop swimming; his stomach threatened again to release its contents. Coughing, he looked around anxiously hoping he would see something that would lead him to D. He knew it was going to be nearly impossible to find him if the tide got any more choppy. Thinking of this, he knew that he would never forgive himself if D had drowned trying to do what he had been asked. Bakura wiped at his eyes roughly and forced himself to concentrate. He was D's protector.

A faint splash caught his eye about four meters away from the spot he was treading water. Hope filled him and he swam with renewed gusto.

D had felt the air sting at his cold fingers and he expelled the air from his lungs in a cry of excitement and horror. He was nearly at the top, but he could feel himself sinking again. Flailing against the current, the boy willed himself to reach the top. Then out of nowhere a hand pushed him further into the water and pulled him promptly back up with strength he had not expected. Cold yet warm sea air whipped at D's face and he gasped, filling his lungs with oxygen, only to begin a coughing fit. He choked and retched, coughing all the while as he was dragged back to the beach where his mostly numb feet staggered over the gritty floor before his legs gave out, and he was half lifted and half dragged up onto the dry sand. A small crowd surrounded them and in his delirium he heard them bark questions at his savior.

"Is he okay?"

"What happened?"

"I told you this wasn't a good idea to let someone who couldn't swim try here first."

"Well," someone else retorted, "you want him to swim in the drained pool?"

"Anywhere, even the bathtub, would have been a better start!" was the response.

"Are you alright kiddo?" a woman said, moving closer to him. His saviors arm motioned for the woman to go back.

"Give him some air, please," a soft, familiar voice said. D looked up, finally able to breathe regularly, and saw the strong, if not slightly feminine face of his friend. His hair was soaking wet and his clothes clung to his lean frame. Suddenly D felt such an embarrassment that he hid his face against the man's chest, wishing he could just disappear. He had failed him, again.

As the light of late summer receded into a palate of red, deep orange, and fiery yellow, Bakura sat on the ledge of his balcony, watching the clouds float lazily past the buildings, apparently deep in thought. D had finally risen from his bed, having slept the rest of the day away after his ordeal, and was examining him from the far end of the living room. The young man turned, finally noticing the boy was there, and beckoned for him to join. D scuffed his feet against the carpet as he came, wishing the man had not noticed him, so his shame could remain hidden.

"Are feeling better?" Bakura asked, and took a sip from his tea cup. D blinked, not realizing that the man had the cup in the first place. Bakura smiled and offered his hand to the boy who took it and was lifted onto the ledge. D looked down, counting each story and marveled at the fact that Bakura was sitting in such a precarious place. It was unlike him.

"I suppose," the boy replied halfheartedly, "I feel kind of dumb though."

"Why is that?" the man asked, offering the child a drink. D took it and drank the liquid, making a disgusted face as it went down. Bakura laughed.

"I'm sorry. I forgot to put sugar in it."

D looked at him and then down back at the cup of tea, watching the stained water slosh against the sides as he jiggled the cup in his hand. Bakura waited for him to say something, but the boy remained silent. They sat this way for a solid hour, D sipping and then swirling the tea in his cup while Bakura stared off into the night sky, now bright with the moon and stars. Finally, after the chill of the night began to snake its ice-like fingers through what was left of the once proud city, the white haired man turned to the boy again, who instead of drinking the last bit of tea had been swirling it around the bottom of the cup letting it reach an unappetizing temperature.

"Something on your mind?" Bakura asked.

D shrugged. The man watched him for another period of silence that befell them, and then sighed, nodding. The child looked up with sad and expecting eyes. He figured what was coming. Once again, however, he was happily wrong.

"You don't have to feel stupid." Soft brown eyes searched the depths of the dark pools in front of them, understanding the feeling; that feeling of being inadequate. "You tried. That's all I asked for, and if you don't want to try again, I understand completely."

D looked back into the dregs of his tea cup. "I'm still a failure."

"No you aren't. I think it probably would have been better to give you some sort of floa—"

"No!" D snapped, and Bakura heard the cup creak in the boy's hands, swore he could almost see the hairline fracture that the unintended force produced. "I should be able to do this by now. I've always been good right away. I can't do it. I'm a failure!"

Bakura tentatively touched the child's hand, and the boy's grip loosened immediately. The cup slipped from his limp fingers and smashed onto the ground, the last of the tea spreading out and being soaked up by the dry concrete. D looked at the ceramic remains as if it had appeared out of thin air and then up at Bakura, prepared to make a surprised apology. The words locked in his throat however, and he just stared in wonder as the man's smile broadened.

"It's impossible to be the best at everything," Bakura said, "Impossible. If that were the case, then there would be nothing to be proud of, no great accomplishment that no one else had done before because someone would have done it already."

"Pride is bad," D said, his words weak to his ears, "That's what my caretaker said back in the…"

"To be honest with you, D kun, I could care less what your 'caretaker' had to say. Too much pride can be your downfall; it's true, because you don't see situations from all other angles. How about I rephrase it: don't be proud, but respect yourself for being able to do something, and don't beat yourself up if you can't do something well, or at all. The fact that it affects you so much is because it hurt your pride."

The child's face showed his surprise, and then contorted into shame. Bakura sighed and then held him to his chest. "I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, D kun. You just need to understand that I'm not angry at you, and you did nothing wrong."

"I'm not normal," the boy whispered, feeling the wind of his words hit the man and billow back onto his face, warming his cheeks.

"And neither am I," Bakura replied, stroking the boy's hair. "You don't have to be something other than human to be so different from the people around you. The most you can do is simple…just do your best and be a good person." The boy did not reply, but stayed with the man until it was time for curfew, and they both went to their respective rooms.

D looked up at the ceiling for a long time, watching as the light of the moon changed its course through his window. His arms were crossed behind his head, and he could not recall ever feeling so awake at night before (he figured it was due to his prolonged nap earlier in the day). His ears picked up the rustling of long forgotten garbage on the street as the wind kicked it out of its hiding place. He heard Bakura's light snores in the other room, remembering that just nights before they had been in a similar position. D shifted, his view changing from the ceiling to the bright starlight of the night sky. They twinkled beautifully, and as he shifted again, this time to stand, he wondered if souls were like stars. Did some shine brightly with light? Did others, like stars long past their time loose some of their shine as years went on? And what of those who became one with darkness? Did their souls become like the black holes that a dying star could create, sucking in the light around them to create only the never ending darkness of space? What was his soul like? He shivered, remembering his dream of the child of darkness, and the monster that came with it. It had said that it could have eaten his soul, but it didn't want to. If that was the case, then did that mean he was some sort of kindred spirit to that creature? The boy shook his head, trying to rid himself of such strange thoughts.

He continued to look at the sky for a time, listening to the dark music of the night, the lonely whispers, the sighs of the ocean to the east. It gave him a strange pang of nostalgia and wondered if he truly belonged here. Did he belong to a place that ignored the magic within itself, and that had been ill prepared for the devastation they were to create, or did he belong as a science project to a culture that realized and learned of its mystical prowess through the powers of science? So many questions filled his mind that night. So much had been left unasked when Bakura had stolen him away from that cold, sterile place. Finally, with a heavy heart, D redressed in jeans and a baggy gray sweater and made his way to the front door, looking into the darkened room that held his best friend. The boy sighed and opened the door, knowing the man would not wake up, and stepped into the corridor, and a few moments later, into the night.

The sea was different at night, a dark unwelcoming beast that snapped at all those who roamed its cold, pale beaches. The moon was high with its brilliance, and the light caused the sand to become a shining silver sliver of land. The rare plant that sprung from the ground nearest the cliffs grew quietly, waiting for the sun to appear again so they could take in the light once more. It was two different perspectives paired beside each other, one welcoming cold, the other a deadly creature, waiting for those who would dare step into its maw unattended. They met with loud crashes, and in the end the dark water would always prevail in stripping the beach of some of its sediment. It was just above this line that the boy sat, silently staring into the east.

"What are you thinking?" A disembodied voice came to the boy's ear and he looked down only for a moment to where his left hand hung over his knees. The boy did not reply; he only turned his head back toward the ocean, deep in thought.

"So you are just another failure!" The parasite cried with as much sympathy as glee. "Maybe you'll be left alone; you know that it's strange that he hasn't shown up yet. It's not like we traveled very far."

Again it seemed like its words fell on deaf ears. D continued to stare, ignoring the cold that seemed to be seeping into everything around him. The moon slipped behind a lazy cloud that refused to move more than a few inches with each gust, causing the world to become a blanket of deep gray. D's eyes did not adjust to the lack of light, they did not need to. Nothing had changed in his eyes. The dark mass that called back the dream he so wanted to forget continued to churn before him, beckoning, daring. The east disappeared into a line of water, and the stars that peaked through the returning cloud cover seemed to watch him with their twinkling light.

"You could always leave you know," the hand added, "go back if that is your real problem. You really don't fit in here, you'd probably do better as a pampered ex—"

D's stoic facial expression twisted for a split second, and he shoved the offending hand deep into the sand. His features relaxed, although they did not quite pass pouting as he looked down at the buried appendage. He let it sit there as he returned to his thoughts. The boy had been prideful, but from what Bakura had said, it was not such a horrible thing. He recalled his hand saying something along the lines of "religious kook" about that particular caretaker. D only knew that certain religious items would hurt to touch, not that it was unbearable, but it usually did leave some form of a nasty burn, or so his father had said. Religion was something he did not quite grasp yet.

For an hour he left his hand in the sand and his mind wandered over the past months and the years before it. A boy born into a family that he did not ask for, a mother who loved him, but hated his father more, and a father that seemed to adore him for reasons that the boy never could quite grasp. The child that always wanted to see the world as it was, outside as well as in, the boy who loved the light as much as it pained him, the boy who would try things that were not meant for his kind because he was different. He was just different, too different for anybody but his family to love him, if it was Love; and then a boy that had been stolen away from the world he had known by a lonely young man who felt that the child was not being cared for properly. It felt surreal as he sat on that beach, the demolished world behind him, and he wondered for how long his life had seemed like a dream to him, waking only when he was asleep, or at moments when he was just alone. He wondered if Bakura would understand, and with a realization that was so obvious that it seemed to click in his mind like the last puzzle piece of a jigsaw the boy stood. On his face was a curious expression and for the first time he felt a warmth in his heart that had always seemed as if it had been covered by some cup to hold in the heat until it faded away. It was just an understanding.

The boy slid off his shoes and pulled off his sweater, the cold air waking him up further. Glancing back at the skeletons of a once great city, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it with the rest of his discarded clothes. He then turned his full attention to the monster in front of him. It seemed less threatening now, as if it knew what he was preparing to do. The sand squealed underneath his feet; he felt taller, stronger, and more ready than he had ever felt about anything in his life.

"I am not a failure," D answered to the parasite living in his hand, "I'm just a boy. I am not an experiment. I'm just a boy. I hate my father, I realize that now. I hate him and I pity him. I do not think I know how to love, but I know what love feels like now." He stopped at the edge, where the sand met the water and took in a deep breath of the salty air. "And you can say whatever you like, I don't care. I am going to swim."

"But you can't!" his hand screeched, finally shaken from its haughty nature for once, "You're gonna get us both killed!"

D shrugged. "Maybe," he replied, "but I want to learn." And he ran into the waves.

Bakura rolled over in his bed, his covers escaping his pitiful excuse for a tug, and he shivered in his sleep. A weight made the spot in front of him sink and he began to tip in that direction until he righted himself, breaking out of his sleep. Opening his eyes, he blinked back the bleary view until the dark shape in front of him turned into a young boy. A very wet looking young boy.

The young man bolted up, but the child did not move. His long hair was matted against his head, but in the dawn's light he could see a few drying hairs peeking up. He brought a hand to the smaller one that had pressed into the bed and felt icy fingers squiggle beneath his touch.

"D kun! Why are you all wet? And why are you so cold?" he asked, worried. The boy shook his head a little, unintentionally splattering him with water in the process.

"I learned how to swim!" the child cried jovially, spreading his arms wide. Bakura could swear the child was bursting to say Ta-dah! A strange smile played on Bakura's lips as he processed the situation.

"And how, pray tell, did you do that?"

"I…swam?"

"Where?" Bakura's eyebrow rose as he asked.

"In the ocean, but that doesn't matter," the child said quickly.

The young man's eyes bulged. "What do you mean it doesn't matter? You could have drowned!"

D laughed, and it caught Bakura off guard. "Thank you," the boy said softly.

Bakura blinked. "Thank you for what?"

"For caring about me," D replied, crawling into the man's lap. Bakura wrapped his arms around the boy and tried to warm him.

"Well, of course I care about you D kun…" Bakura said, hugging the boy close, "You're like family to me…you are my family."

D looked up at him and smiled, and Bakura swore that it was the biggest smile he had ever seen the boy wear.

Bakura never forgot that it was he who had made the boy smile like that.