Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.
Well if this isn't an old story brought back from the dead. If anyone is still reading this, rejoice! I was busy going through some of my old files and found that I never uploaded these chapters. I can't upload them all today, as I have become EXTREMELY busy, but I feel that since it was written, I'd be happy to share what I had left over.
If anyone actually wants me to continue, just shoot me a review, and I'll try to make some time for it. Otherwise, I might just continue it for my own amusement, as it has been years since I have touched on or read either VHD or Yu-Gi-Oh!. It's funny to note, I still had notes on where I wanted this to go.
I hope someone is still at least having fun with this, mistakes and all. Happy belated Halloween, everyone!
...Does anyone still even use this site?
Chapter Twenty Three: Beware Of Me
The faint sound of music trailed the two travelers as they wandered a new road. The CD player clipped to Bakura's jean pocket would skip occasionally if he stepped too hard or quickly, and the headphones he had slung around his neck beat against his chest, but the two found the music to be soothing, and something else to listen to other than the silence.
Bakura's chest had healed, the small lacerations leaving two faint jagged scars, and they had both waited for some sort of change in the first few days, but they had found nothing (other than when allowed a good amount of food for himself, Bakura would attack it mercilessly, making D snicker at the display). Both hoped that it signified that it took more than an accidental biting to change someone, but to themselves they figured it having more to do with whatever Bakura had been put through, which gave solace to neither. D still had to fear his hunger, and Bakura continued to question how much of him was still human, or natural. He thought hard on this especially, since he knew perfectly well that even that minor wound should have just now been forming a scab.
By this point, they had passed by two towns. They had passed right under a road to one, but since it did not follow the line on the map, they did not stray. It also did not help that underneath this bridge hung a sign that said "FUCK YOU" in bright red letters against a browning canvas. The second town, which took them two more hours to get to by D's guess, was no more than a ghost town. Tumbleweeds skittered across the road dotted by cars, glinting in the pale glow of dawn. The breeze that was beginning to pick up left them with the stale smell of old manure and something even less appetizing. By this time, both were exhausted, having spent a full 11 hours walking, beginning from an assumed six o'clock p.m. when Bakura deemed the temperature to be dropping. He had intended only going so far as the next building, guessing that the higher they were the colder it would get, but the nearest one that had been what the sign said was the "Bell Station" had been broken into and burned from the inside, so they had pushed on. The next building had looked like some sort of center, a little ways off the main road, but D could see people patrolling the road around it, most holding spears of some sort, while one held a shotgun. Not wanting to risk it, they pushed on.
In the second dead town, they initially found nothing much other than more bottled water and food they did not immediately need. D added a few cans of Chef Boyardee to his bag, partially for Bakura's sake, and partially because he wanted to try a taste at some point. They made their camp in the middle of the abandoned store that early morning (finally finding a small blue tent that both of them could sleep in) and slept until late into the afternoon. It was at that point that Bakura changed out the batteries of the flashlight (the beam having begun to flicker and fade) and had stumbled across the large electronics section where they found the CD player that they were now using. They had spent a full hour opening the CD cases and picking their favorites to take with them. Before they left, D had a stroke of genius and had remembered to grab two umbrellas. They would need it eventually; there was no doubt going to be a chance of rain sometime in their future.
It was just before they were going to turn on the road that they traveled now that they met him. A man huddled at the corner of an abandoned Walgreens, staring at them with fear-filled eyes. Bakura went toward him with caution. He was concerned for the man, but not so much as to put D's life in danger. "Hello?" he had called out, "Sir, are you alright? I am not here to hurt you. Where is everyone?"
The man's response was not immediate. He had continued to stare at them as if they were ghosts, and Bakura had just been thinking to turn and leave when the man whispered, "El Diablo ha venido a hablar conmigo…"
"What?" Bakura asked, unable to understand. He had moved forward to see if the man would repeat the phrase, but D had tugged him back. "What?" he had asked the boy, irritated.
"We should leave him alone," the boy had replied quietly.
"Why, what did he say?"
The man had suddenly stood, arms flailing in their direction, panic ridden and seeming larger than before he cried out, "¡Déjame en paz! No tengo nada que desee. No tengo nada para dar. Usted ha tomado mi familia... la ciudad... desaparecen. ¡Hay no más para usted aquí!" Suddenly the words did not matter and Bakura had lifted D off the ground, racing down the road as fast as he could while the man shouted, "¡Hay no más para usted aquí! ¡Quemarse en el infierno! ¡Hay no más para usted aquí!"
When Bakura had been unable to run any further, he had set the boy down, and between gasps for air had asked for clarification.
"He was just crazy…" D had begun, but Bakura had waved at him for more of an explanation. "He was telling us that there was no more for us here, that everyone was gone and that the Devil was talking to him. Okay? He was calling you the devil, 'the devil has come to talk to me' or something like that, okay? Are we done talking about it now?"
"Is that all?" Bakura had asked, his voice a little winded, but mild.
"Yeah," D had replied, only partially lying. He had felt it unnecessary to tell Bakura that the man had told him to burn in hell. That had been when they had begun down the road they were on now.
As the tune of one song looped into another, Bakura shifted his bag and breathed in the cooling night air. It seemed that they had come into this valley in summer's last dying gasp, and fall was coming quickly. Looking at the boy that trailed behind him, stopping to pick up a broken piece of asphalt from a pothole, he sighed, realizing that soon it would be better to be wandering in daylight again, at least for him. He doubted the boy would be as bothered by this incoming chill.
"D-kun," he called, "Keep up! We don't know if there's going to be anyone near here."
The boy trotted up, placing the concrete in his pants pocket for whatever reasons he had, and gave Bakura the brightest smile that he had given him in a while. "You know, I actually like this."
Feeling his feet ache every step he took, Bakura tried to return the smile. "Like what?"
"I enjoy just wandering around here with you. I know that…it sounds awful, but if we never meet this family, or never find another group of people to be with again, I'd be happy."
"Oh, I doubt that D-kun. You would get along with a lot of people."
The boy's smile faded. "Yeah, only to have them either want nothing to do with us, or end up dying. No. I like it this way. It's simpler."
Bakura laughed at that. "I can see where you're going with this and I would have to agree, partially, but life isn't simple, and neither is anything that we are going to have to deal with."
"What do you plan on telling his family, if we find them?"
"Just what he told us…" he paused, thinking on what D had said. "…and then I promise, we'll be on our way again."
"You really promise?"
"Yes, I do."
Bakura could not tell if it was from the decent meal that he had eaten, or the fact that he may have been becoming stronger, but while he ached all over, he noticed that they were making better time than he thought. According to the map, there would be an intersection right before the town, and they were at this intersection now, at what D proclaimed was just turning midnight. They decided that it would be best not to seem like they were sneaking into town, so they made their camp atop the cracking dirt that was once farmland. Bakura ate a moderate amount while D tested the flavors of food that had no meaning to him. His experimenting had a note of child's curiosity and a scientist's want for understanding. Understanding that how anyone enjoyed watery tomato paste, and that sticky "meat" that was held inside the ravioli that Bakura was downing without even heating it.
As they slept, dreams filled of personal insecurities and yet free of the deeper, more sinister kind filled their minds. The moon loomed over them with its passivity. The stars and it were the only shards of light in this now darkened landscape. The light that once blinked an on and off red to alert drivers to stop hung uselessly by its chords above the intersection, where now a pair of coyote pups chased one another as the rest of their group watched on, wary of the strangers in the field. Some were old enough to remember the dangers of the flashing cars that could end a life. When the danger they perceived subsided they all moved on with yips and howls that woke the boy once or twice before dawn.
The day greeted the pair with the sound of birds chattering in the trees. The sun shone between puffy clouds that lazily traced their way through the sky, following the breeze that sent the plant life into motion. Loose sand and dirt skittered across the road and the hard packed soil that they had camped on, swirling into a harmless dust devil that made its way westward. Bakura poked his head out of the tent to view the weather and smiled softly as the warmth of the sun and the breeze caressed his face. The smell of the wild was beginning to return to this area, and as Bakura left the tent to go relieve himself he saw a desert cottontail bound across the field, and a gang of elk off to his left, in the distance. He could see where a fence had fallen on that side, and the remnants of the cow that had done it. Thinking of the cow made him hungry, so he zipped his pants and returned to the tent to ask D if he wanted anything to eat. He found the boy huddled into a little ball, his face covered by his sleeping bag. Smiling, Bakura lifted the bag and almost laughed as the bleary-eyed boy looked up at him in confusion.
"What? Do we have to leave now?" The man still found it odd how quickly the boy could wake up as the sleepy look wiped itself from his face almost immediately.
"No, I as just wondering if you were hungry," he replied, smiling. "Or if you wanted to try anything today."
The boy shook his head. Glancing around, he grabbed for his backpack and began running his fingers through his hair. "Is it hot today?"
"Nope," Bakura replied, grabbing a can of something called Beanee-Weenee and cracking it open. "But I can see some buildings a little way off…I think we might be almost there."
D watched him silently as Bakura dug into his meal of cold processed meat. "Does it look safe?" he asked, after the can was empty.
Bakura shrugged. "I don't really know. I don't have eyes like yours," he replied, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm going to be depending on you for that answer."
The idea brightened the boy's attitude and he went about preparing for departure with more interest. If Bakura wanted to give him responsibility, he would gladly take it. Such a task was also important, and gave the boy a feeling of control of the situation. In his mind, D envisioned that they would come upon a quaint town far enough out of the way to be only slightly affected, lightly peppered with townsfolk who would be concerned that they were outsiders, but happy enough to let them do their business and leave. Then he and Bakura would be off to wander the new world at their leisure. It would not be perfect, but so long as they remained two wanderers who only needed each other, it would be good enough for him. His hand mumbled something about being optimistic, but D ignored him as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. He could see the buildings far better than Bakura could, and he nodded to himself. There were no signs of people, or anything problematic. They would be finished with this business soon.
The closer they got, however, the more the two questioned the complete lack of people. Unlike the other city, this town could not have been large enough to hide most of its residents from outsiders unless they had some sort of watch. Bakura wondered if the town did have a group that guarded it and the two had somehow been spotted last night. D shook his head at this, and told his taller companion that it would not have been possible. They would have had to get close during the night in order to see them, and the boy would have been able to hear such a group easily. This unnerved Bakura and he kept the boy close and behind him, just in case something was to go wrong.
A wrought iron sign welcomed them to a sight of an empty church that they both hurried past, and a convenience store. It was there that Bakura had half a mind to turn away and leave. The windows were smashed in and there was dried blood on one of the shards that glinted in the sun. Only his concern for what might have happened to the man's family and his promise to his brother made him continue. D followed close behind him, surveying the chaotic jumble of bent shelves within the store with a quiet concern. It looked old, yet perhaps what had happened there was fresher than what his eyes told him. The dirty buildings made everything look older, and from this vantage point, the farmlands did little more than welcome them with weeds and more dirt to cover them with. He folded the turtleneck over his face to keep the dirt away from his nose and kept his eyes sharp. The breeze had become a more forceful wind as the day went by that blew warm air in their faces, skittering dirt across their path, and the heat from the sun had begun to bake into the earth. What had begun as a nice day had turned into a surprise scorcher. If they were going to delve deeper into the remains of the city, Bakura would need him to be alert, and as it was, the weather was not on his side.
Each house they passed on the larger road made them move more quickly. One door had been bashed open, the splinters strewn about the walkway. Another lacked windows, the curtains sliding against the stucco walls as the wind pelted at them with debris. D listened for a sound, someone talking, or crying, or even breathing, and heard nothing but the distant harsh tinkling of wind chimes. Whatever had happened here seemed to have consumed the town itself. A door creaked, off one of its hinges, and the two jumped as there was a crash from their right. A raccoon rolled from one of the trashcans, skittering up out of its doze and racing away from them. Bakura clutched at his heart, feeling it pound at his palm and swallowed hard. D adjusted his hat and looked at the ground, feeling foolish.
"What do you think happened?" Bakura said, as they returned to their route. The boy shrugged and simply pointed to the street sign that said Elko. That was where they needed to turn. This particular road would turn into Railroad and Enid, and they would find their destination across the street from a slightly smaller church than the one they had passed earlier.
Nothing else was said until they came to the spot circled on their map. The house that stood before them was in slightly better shape than the others they had passed. The windows had been blocked with wood and had crosses hastily drawn on them. D looked at and away from them uncomfortably as Bakura took a step forward to get a better look at the sign on the door. Someone had taken a red and white "Beware of Dog" sign and had crossed out "Dog". The handwriting just below it was sloppy, the writer either frantic or young, or both, and only one word. One that Bakura could read easily enough.
"Beware Of Me?" He asked softly, disliking its connotation. He was about to turn and say something when he heard D shout and a loud pinging noise tore at his ears. He crouched down and shouted in alarm, the second bullet just missing him. Without thinking, he barreled for the boy and dragged him behind the fence of the distressing house. He heard a faint click and thought that it sounded like someone was reloading their gun. He glanced up and looked around to see where their attacker could have come from. There was nothing he could find. The boy tugged him down with a force Bakura always seemed to forget he had, and hissed, "The church!"
"What?" Bakura whispered, wanting to look back at it. If that were the case, they were in a very poor position. He had assumed his enemy had been somewhere on the street. From the church vantage point, they were probably lined up just right to be shot at.
"There's a missing panel on the top of the little tower thing. I thought the wind or some animal had popped it out, but I caught a glimpse of a barrel poking out of it when you pulled me away."
"Listen!" They heard a shout from everywhere and Bakura grabbed for D, covering him as best he could. The sound quality denoted it came from a megaphone of some sort, and Bakura guessed that it was coming from the same vicinity as the gunfire. He was surprised at how young the voice sounded. "I could've hit you both those times, Outie! I don't care what you want, or what you are doing here. I just want you gone! I'll give you twenty seconds to stand up and I want you running far away from here!"
"We should try to run," D said, "they could probably shoot us from where they are positioned."
Bakura frowned and remained where he was, however. For every shout, the voice seemed younger still, and the tone seemed more frantic than confident. There was no doubt that they were dangerous, but there might be something he could work with, if they listened. "D," he whispered, "Stay down, and get to a safer position."
"What?" he hissed, "Are you crazy? I'm not leaving you—"
"Do as I say!" He snapped and D backed away, shocked. Bakura gave him a firm look and the boy nodded, crawling away with his eyes trained on the open slat of the upper church's compartment.
He stood, his arms raised and away from the gun at his hip. Taking in a deep breath to steady himself, he took a leisurely step forward. He could almost feel the shift of the barrel to his position. His heart raced and he swallowed hard. There was no room for mistakes.
"Do you know the Ackermann family?" he called up to the dark gap that D had alerted him to, keeping his face as calm as possible.
At first, there was no response. The hot wind blew again, awakening a dust devil that swirled just to his left, a large one that dragged a worn wrapper across the ground along with remnants of leaves. If he had been able to give it any attention, Bakura would have considered it sad. It punctuated the emptiness of the town. He saw the barrel of the gun, a rifle of some sort, shift and then come forward, pointing directly at him. He stood his ground.
"Why do you care?" The voice called, a little less potent. "You don't look like you knew them."
"I have a message to deliver," he said, "From Mr. Ackermann's brother."
The barrel shook, and then steadied itself. "What are you," it said, "a mailman, Mister Stranger? I don't believe you, and it wouldn't matter anyway…he's…dead." The barrel bopped. "So get out of here!"
Bakura sighed, nodding at his apparent defeat. It was unfortunate, another death on their trail, but he figured it would be more common as they went along. What sort of life was he giving D, he wondered. A better one, he hoped. At least the person at the church was giving them more leeway than they had promised before. His logic told him to leave with the boy quickly, but his intuition told him to stay, that there was more to this than what he saw.
"What happened here?" he asked, turning his head to look for D. The boy was nowhere in sight. He did not want to leave without him.
"Nothing that you gotta worry about…" the voice spoke, "you better go now. And take whoever that person was with you away, too. Don't think I won't kill him." Suddenly there was a strange squeal from the church and the gun went off, the projectile flying just above Bakura's head. He felt the bullet tug at a few wild strands of hair, as he stood there shocked. There were banging noises and shouts coming from the building before him, and Bakura took that as a sign to find the boy. Whatever had destroyed the town may still have been in there with their attacker. The "Beware Of Me" sign still hung heavy in his memory. He ran behind the house and saw nothing.
"D?!" He cried in a panic, running to the front of the house again. Still no sign of the boy. The struggling noises continued from inside the church and Bakura, even knowing that the person inside might very well still kill him, yanked his gun free and made for the doors. He would not let this person die. At the last second, he had to back away, as one of the doors flew open, slamming against the dirt scoured wall. The man watched in confusion as two children wrestled to the ground, one oddly dressed, and the other clearly the boy he had been looking for. D pinned the other child against the baking concrete, using mostly just his weight. The child beneath him squalled and thrashed, trying to bite at its attacker. Bakura shook his head, snapping himself out of his bewilderment and pulled D off the other child, suffering a nasty bite as a reward. He sucked in air as he clutched his hand to his side and both watched the other stand, glaring and baring their teeth.
On one foot, a converse shoe that looked to be too big for it hung half laced and the other wore a black flat of an appropriate size. Two drastically different stockings shot up from these mismatched shoes only to emphasize the oddness of the skirt/biker shorts and tank top over shirt ensemble that came above that. Pearls hung about the child's neck and one hand that clutched at them was covered in a fancy once white glove, the other, balled into a fist was covered in a fingerless, black leathered one. Short strawberry blonde with a fading wash of pink poked from around a visor and antique motorcycle goggle pair, half down and half in a side ponytail. Green, angry eyes glared at them, accusing them of some sort of mutiny as they panted from exertion.
"That was the person shooting at us," D said, straightening his coat. Bakura noted the odd, exhausted look in the boy's eyes.
"Shoulda known I shouldn't have trusted you two Outies," the girl huffed, taking a step back. "Shoulda killed you."
"We aren't going to hurt you," Bakura said as clearly as he could, returning his gun to his holster and wincing as he flexed his bitten hand.
"I don't know that," she snorted, wrapping the string of pearls around her fingers. "My momma said that Outies are dangerous, especially ones who have kids who don't look like they are theirs," she glared at Bakura for emphasis, "said that they do bad things to kids, especially little girls. Very, very bad things."
Bakura cringed at the idea in disgust, horrified that such things even had to be told to children for their survival now, while D frowned. "Bakura-sama would never," he snapped, and the man could tell there was almost an immediate dislike for the girl emanating off the boy. It was very unlike him.
"Maybe he hasn't yet," she replied snidely, "or maybe you're just lying to me to get me to follow you. Get him off of you. From the way you attacked me, my momma sai—"
"Shut up!" he snarled, and Bakura put a hand on his shoulder to quiet him. The tension did not fully leave the boy, but he no longer looked as if he were about to pounce.
"We are only here to deliver a message to Mr. Ackermann like I told you," Bakura began, "That was all we were here for. If you know where his family is, we will give you the message and be more than happy to leave."
"They. Are. Dead. Both of them. What else do you want me to say?"
"Both of—?" The situation connected in Bakura's mind and his face fell. What other reason would this child have to be around this area, protecting it as she had been? He looked at the girl before him with empathy and concern. It was a look that D noticed, and that he did not like. Quietly, the young man added. "And the little girl?"
Her mouth curved into a deep frown, and looked away as if in search for an escape. "Say what you wanna say and leave. There's nothing for you here. Especially you two." She stuck her tongue out at D, who pressed his lips together in an attempt to remain mature about the situation. Unlike Amami, who still left happy but painful memories in his mind, this girl was irritating and more along the lines of the boys who would attempt to pick on him. Not to mention she looked ridiculous.
"Your uncle wanted to tell your father he was sorry. That their argument did not matter anymore, and that you should head toward Nevada. There is no other safe place around here."
"Whatever. I didn't know him, and I'm not leaving." She snorted before turning to leave. The two watched her begin her leave, D somewhat relieved, and Bakura fighting with the idea of leaving her alone in such a town. Leave her in such an empty town that obviously had something horrible happen to it. Half of him told him to let it be, she obviously knew what she wanted and how to take care of herself. Not to mention the chance of having to reveal D's condition. The other half was revolted by this notion; she was just a little girl, and the same urge to protect that he felt for D was already forming for this child. No one else would help her, if anyone ever came by this town.
"What happened here?" He called after her again. She stopped but did not turn around. D hoped that she would just keep walking. She could have this uninhabited town, so long as she kept her and her gross ideas away from Bakura-sama and him. His hand was about to give his unwanted opinion when the boy clenched his hand tight enough that he felt liquid pool under his nails.
They both watched quietly as she stood there, seemingly confused about what to do, when she spoke. "I'm going to get my gun. I guess I really can't fight you two by myself, even with it…I mean you probably could guess if I was going to shoot you so if you're going to stay, 'cause I can't stop you, stop asking stupid questions."
"Do you not have any respect for your elders?" D said, crossing his arms.
She turned around and looked at him, smirking. "Oh, and how old are youuuu?" She asked. "Don't look much older than me."
"I am talking about how you address Bakura-sama," he said, and Bakura could not help but smile in amusement. It almost reminded him of how Mokuba would react whenever someone would talk badly about his brother. He flicked the back of the boy's hat, jolting him out of his offense. More talking would do D wonders, but Bakura did not think such a confrontation was necessary. She was a little girl, alone. For how long alone, he could not say, but any amount of time concerned him. If it were difficult for D and him, then it would be twice as hard for this girl.
"I can say whatever I want, whenever I want. This is my town," she replied haughtily, and skipped off to go and collect her weapon. Bakura at first wondered if it was a good idea to let her go on her own, and then shook his head. She would be fine. Whether she acted like it or not, she seemed to want their company. If she really wanted them gone or did not want to be in there presence, she would have tried to run away far earlier.
"I don't like her," D grumbled, readjusting his hat.
"Ohh, you don't say?" his hand managed to squeak out before being squeezed again.
"She has been alone for a long time, I think…" Bakura began, eyeing the bruise that was forming on his hand. It still throbbed, but she had not broken through skin so he considered himself lucky. "And if her parents are dead…I doubt her biggest care is her manners." D looked at him and then away in a huff. Bakura frowned. He could not think of what would be agitating the boy so much, and he still had that unhealthy pale look about him. Bakura had been around the boy long enough to see a difference. Pretending to be more interested in the teeth marks in his hand, he fretted over the boy that he thought of like a son. If anything were to happen to him…
"Hey, OUTIES!" Bakura jumped and they both hurriedly turned toward the shout over the microphone. D had his ears covered, but was still flinching from the vocal onslaught. Bakura was surprised that he even heard her snicker, his ears were ringing to the point the wind sounded nearly nonexistent. She was standing just behind them, a vicious grin on her face, a rifle that looked about her height slung over her shoulder, and a dirty white megaphone gripped in her free hand. "What?" she said through the mouthpiece and the other two winced.
"Stop it!" D said, his voice closest to whining that the young man had ever heard him get. Even Bakura was tiring of her antics.
"Stop it!" she mimicked, her face warping into an exaggerated frown. Bakura sighed and walked over to her. Her eyes immediately filled with fear. "Stay away from me!" she snapped, hefting her gun to shoot at him.
"Who taught you how to shoot?" Bakura asked. D raised an eyebrow. It was an odd question at such a time.
"My daddy," she replied, dropping the megaphone to put her finger on the trigger. "He used to go hunting, and he used to take me. He ended up teaching me how to shoot right after the bad stuff happened. I learned how to take care of 'em, too."
"The 'bad stuff'?" Bakura wondered.
"Yeah, when there was like, bombs and stuff and Momma wouldn't let me outside." She was still pointing the rifle at him, but her arms were shaking from the exertion. He was sure that when she used it, she rested it on something and aimed. It was far too big to be her gun. He was surprised that its recoil had not yet injured her.
"Was that what happened here?"
"No, and I told you it was none of your business," she barked, the rifle now less steady.
Bakura crossed his arms, looking down at her expectantly. It was obvious she was putting on a show. "Are you going to shoot that any time soon?"
Her face contorted in anger, but she dropped the weapon. "No," she said, defeated, "I guess you Outies aren't that bad. You probably would have tried to get at me again if you were, and that was when I was going to shoot you. You're probably still kind of bad, though."
This time D spoke. He was irritated, unusually tired, and just wanted to get out of the sun. "We are not bad and why do you keep calling us 'Outies'?"
"'cause you are."
He frowned. "What does that even mean?"
"It was Outies that killed most everybody, and scared everybody else away. Momma said they weren't from here, they were Outsiders…Outies, and they were here to take away our stuff. Daddy died because of them." She seemed to realize what she had just divulged and scowled at D. "You're nosy, you know that?"
"And you are juvenile," he retorted, rolling his eyes. When he saw only slight irritation on her face, and a more questioning gaze, he sighed. "How old are you, anyway?"
"I turned nine in February," she said proudly. "Made my own cake this year, too!"
"Nine?!" Bakura cried in alarm. He had expected her to be young, and had attributed her height to malnourishment, but it seemed it was the opposite. She was a gangly little thing that was tall for her age, and apparently had devised some way to keep herself safe in the town without the help of anyone. She was not D, the fact that she was alone had already distressed Bakura; he was silently grateful she was doing so well.
She looked at him confused. "Yeah, nine."
"I'm going to be ten this year," D could not help but interject.
"Well, woopie for you," she said, biting at one of her nails. The sun beat on the trio as morning passed into afternoon. "If you are still around, maybe I'll make a cake for you, too."
That statement reminded Bakura of how he had celebrated his own birthday in the past years. Unpleasant memories of being locked in various rooms, or in the bottom of a boat, oddly transitioned into him thinking of D's birthday. He had never had a birthday cake, to Bakura's knowledge. He would have to make him one. Yet this was not the thought that he focused on hardest, but the thought of leaving…leaving the girl there alone again…
"Why do you want to stay here?" he asked.
"Huh?" She shrugged, "Momma and Daddy lived here until the Outies came, and I don't wanna go to wherever they are."
"What if you were not alone?"
She looked at him with distrust. "You're still an Outie, you know."
"But you'd bake him a cake for his birthday?" he asked, nodding towards D, who looked up at him in alarm. This was not going the way the boy wanted it to go, for a number of reasons.
She shrugged again. "He's my age, kind of, and probably doesn't have anyone to bake him cake."
"Bakura-sama can cook," D muttered. 'And doesn't need any of your help,' he thought to himself, 'we don't need you at all.' He could hear his hand giving off a soft chuckle and ignored it.
"Cooking isn't baking, dummy."
"Yeah, well how can you bake a cake without electricity for the oven?" the boy retorted.
"You don't use the oven then, stupid," she snapped right back, "you make a box with aluminum foil inside and put it in the sun. It works the saaaame. Momma showed it to me before she got sick."
Bakura rubbed at his temples as the two bickered about what constituted as real baking. He was more interested in how he was going to deal with the situation. He had done as he had been asked in the sense of telling her the message, but he had also promised to show the family a way to safety. Now that the family consisted of just a little girl that was afraid of leaving what she knew, he could not leave her alone and have his conscience happy. He would just have to take the risk.
"I am Ryou Bakura," he introduced himself, interjecting into their squabble. D looked at him pleadingly, half absorbed with attempting to explain that baking and cooking relied on heat so they were similar, and half willing for Bakura to know how he felt about the idea the boy just knew he was having. The girl looked up at him with no such complexity; she was simply perplexed.
"I thought your name was Bakurasama?" she began, "What kind of name is that anyway? Is it Chinese?" Bakura's expression changed so drastically it would have made D laugh, if he had not been so consumed with his concerns.
"I am Japanese," he replied flatly.
She shrugged, as if saying it did not really matter any way. "What's your name, then?" she asked the boy, who turned his attention away from Bakura with a look of hopelessness.
"D," he muttered.
"D? That's not a name, that's a letter!"
"It's my name," he said, every syllable sharp with discontent.
"Well then, D," she said, snickering, "Where are your parents? Why are you with Bananarama?"
"What?" The two asked in unison, and she fell into a fit of laughter. D felt as if he were feeling enough regret for Bakura's decision for the both of them. When D's eyes locked with Bakura's and the older man looked away, the boy knew that his feelings on this subject would probably be moot. The young man seemed determined to invite the girl into their fold. They had traveled together long enough that D knew that silly compassionate look that Bakura got when he felt the need to help someone else. He sighed and decided that he had better get used to this obnoxious edition. Bakura was not entirely wrong in feeling the way he did, but it was like having another parasite, only one who had its own body and would not shut up if you told it to.
"Hey, I resent that," his hand grumbled quietly, but did not say anything further.
"They are dead," D replied, bringing her out of her amusement. It seemed that she did have some sort of sympathetic notion within her, as her face fell and she seemed to find something of interest in the cracks of the pavement.
"How?" She asked, kicking at a stone wedged in one of the cracks.
At first he did not want to speak of it, he had simply just wanted her to shut up. Yet, with the awkward silence that followed, he felt obligated. "My mother died when I was young…er…and my…" he paused, looking up at Bakura who nodded for him to continue. The lie this time did not come easily, however. Nothing ever was when it came to his father. "My father, he…died when all this sort of started. He had to, um, fight in it. Bakura-sama has been taking care of me since then."
"Oh," she said, now looking at the two with a slightly different expression. Bakura hoped that it was one that meant she trusted them, or at least somewhat did. "Why do you call him that, though? Isn't his first name something else?" she asked, cocking a thumb in Bakura's direction.
"It's a sign of respect where we come from."
"Huh…" They stood there in silence for some time. Neither Bakura nor D knew what to say, or in D's case wanted to say. A ground squirrel off to their left poked its head out of one of the holes in the dirt and quickly ducked back in once it saw it was not alone. The girl giggled at the sight and looked at the two travelers, a half-smile on her face.
"I'm Claire, by the way," she said. "I don't need anything fancy put on my name, or have to be called by my last name, though. It's just Claire."
Bakura offered her his hand to shake. "It is nice to meet you, Claire."
She took it, and gave him a strong shake. "Nice to meet you, too, Bakura." Her eyes then traveled to D. "And you too, D…even if you pulled my hair up there and wouldn't let me get up off of the ground, and wear too many clothes for a hot day…and wear your turtlenecks all weird." He gave her a confused look, and she pointed at her mouth. His face reddened ever so slightly as he pulled down the unfolded fabric. When Claire saw his face as he offered her his right hand, her eyes widened.
"It is nice to meet you, Claire," he said quietly, mimicking Bakura.
"Nice to meet you, too," she said, shyly taking his hand. They shook and there was another uncomfortable silence before Claire blurted, "So are you a boy or a girl?"
He frowned. "Boy."
Bakura noted that the girl seemed unfazed by the boy's grumpy look. She simply smiled and shrugged, stating he was the prettiest boy she had ever seen, laughing when his frown deepened. The young man hoped that the two would eventually get along, that perhaps the happy duo could become a happy trio, but he worried that when the truth came out, as his heart told him it would, the little girl they had found would be frightened away, and that D would lose yet another friend. He hoped that when…if that day ever came where they had to explain the boy's condition…she would stay by the boy's side. He needed a true friend his age.
Bakura silently wished to have that sort of friendship again one day.
"By the way…why is there a sign that says 'Beware Of Me' on your door?"
She turned to the young man and smirked, her eyes shining with confidence. "Because it's me you have to beware of…"
The young man prayed to any entity that would listen that he would not regret inviting her along.