Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.
Sorry for the wait. I was busier than I had anticipated.
Anyone curious about the brief interaction between Bakura and Malik that Bakura remembered earlier in this story can find a little short on it on AO3 called "The Airport" under the name TheTireFire. It's only for those interested in that, as I know Malik hasn't appeared (yet), so your involvement in that might not be too much? To be fair, I am very aware of how niche this story is. I'm not certain what aspect is keeping those still reading here. I just am glad that someone is enjoying it!
(Also, I'm not certain if I plan on posting it here, not sure about cross-posting guidelines. Please remember, it's been a hot minute since I've even written fan fiction.)
I hope everyone is having a fantastic holiday break! For those who aren't, may this story bring you some joy, or at least something fun to read!
And never be afraid to share your thoughts, good or bad. I can never improve if I'm not told what works and what doesn't for you guys.
Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Forest
Due to the fight having raged on so near the center of town, Bakura knew the inhabitants would not be affected, yet. He also knew that meant if they laid low, no one would bother them as they made for an attempt to escape the city. This would be a boon, as Bakura could tell, they were unprepared for the journey he anticipated that they would have to make. All that was on his person was the weapon in his holster, the bullet box unceremoniously jammed in his belt, and his blood-encrusted clothing. In the dark, he could see that the pair of children looked dirty, and although they had managed to get to their bags with little fanfare, they had only a few cans of food leftover. It did not help that the temperature seemed to be dropping at a rapid pace that night. Claire was hugging herself against the chill, and he felt particularly chilled as well, although he was not certain if that was due to the cold, or blood loss.
After hurrying the children to the abandoned mall, unprotected at the moment (as all able bodies were still fighting no doubt), he discussed the plan to reoutfit the group. He was shocked yet happy that he remembered the directions to the place they had gone to replace his other destroyed clothing. He doubted that the town's residents would miss much of what they would take. Many clothes still hung on racks, and as most of the inhabitants had not been child sized, the two younger travelers had a better selection.
They needed to save as much time as possible, so Bakura reluctantly sent the other two off to find clothing, and camping gear, while he searched for anything to clean and patch his wounds. D looked back at the man, as the only one who could see well in this darkness, with concern before guiding Claire to their first stop. She was trying her best not to shiver, as she clung to herself with one arm, her other wrapped around D's in a firm grip.
"I hate not being able to see," she whispered in his ear, and he could hear the frustration baking off her. "And how am I supposed to get dressed if I can't see anythinnnng…"
Suddenly, D's first order of business was to find a flashlight. Which he did. He did not want to hear her complaints, for now that she felt that she could comfortably complain, he was confident she would. It did not take him long to find one, thanks to his eyesight, and he made sure to fill it with the appropriate batteries. Thumbing the button, he considered a few options as he turned back to her with his findings. When he clicked it on in her face, he had a slight moment of satisfaction as she leapt back, rubbing at her eyes. D then handed her the flashlight by the handle, and she payed him back in kind. Or would have, if he had not turned his head after handing it to her. She smacked his shoulder with her hand, and he let out a soft chuckle before pointing her forward. They had something to do.
D wished to keep his color-coordinated look, and was able to find a pair of dark boots that were only slightly larger than his feet. Enough that he could grow into them. They were far more comfortable than the pair he had on at present. In another store, he found pants and a turtleneck that fit him comfortably this time, and that were to his standards color wise. He refused to get rid of the pea coat however, even as dirty as it was. Nor did he get rid of his hat. As Claire searched, he beat at his coat, trying to get the dirt and mud off it the best he could, and used the insides of his former clothes to wipe away the grime on his face.
Claire's choice in clothing was unsurprising to him. She piled on layer upon layer, leggings upon leggings. D pointed out that they would probably need warmer clothing, and since the clothes in stock were of the fall variety (as that had been the last season these stores had ever stocked) they should bring something extra along. She proceeded to pile more on, until he added that he had meant that they should pack the clothing. This time she was able to get him with shining the flashlight in his eyes, and it was she that giggled as he squinted at her in irritation.
"Hey," she called to him, after they were done finding things that they needed. "Shouldn't we look for something for Bakura? He's probably busy with other stuff."
D's face turned solemn, remembering the state that Bakura was in. He knew the young man was ignoring his pain to help them, and it hurt to think that if they had found him sooner...
"We should."
While the pair searched for more equipment, Bakura rummaged, near blind, through stores to find anything like bandage. He did manage to find something in a drug store, where the light of the moon had just peeked through the cloud cover and windows to illuminate the near desolate store. Fumbling around, he was able to find a small emergency flashlight, and assessed the situation before he began cleaning his wound. He was happy to see that his bleeding had stopped, and only hoped that the effects of his blood loss would not negatively affect him any time soon. It was odd, but he almost yearned for the itching sensation of the healing process taking effect. After he bandaged himself, he worked on setting up a proper first-aid kit that they could carry. The last thing he wanted was to be as unprepared as he had been during the firefight, and to have either he, or the children injured, and be unable to do anything about it. Once he had what he needed in hand, he leaned back and slid down an empty wall with his eyes closed, wishing that he could sleep. He was exhausted.
In the middle of contemplating when he would next be able to nap, he felt something land on his head. His hand shot up and felt around as his eyes snapped open. A hat like the one D wore had been shoved onto his head by Claire, with D looking on worriedly in the background. Bakura laughed and left it perched on his head as he stood. He was still overjoyed that they were all back together. When they presented what else they had found, he had to restrain himself from crying. Before him lay packs prepped for a journey through chilly, unknown territory. The only thing they lacked in was food, and Bakura assumed that they would find enough in time. They were such good kids.
Finding a map to aid their progress in traversing this unknown land, Bakura finally felt ready to leave, and motioned for the rest of his group to follow. In the dead of night, with only the occasional bit of light to guide them, they began their silent trek out of the city, away from the road they had intended on traveling before.
This time, the difficulties lay not with people, but with the elements.
November 24, 2003
I suppose I am the only one keeping track of the days. At any rate, things are going quite…well they are doing something.
To put it bluntly, we are lost. As in, very lost. We have no idea what city we just passed, or what city may come up next. I blame myself for not asking to see the map (as I feel I have a better sense of direction), or ask if Bakura-sama was certain that he really wanted to go down a particular street. I just assumed he was doing what we had promised to each other, which was we would "do whatever we wanted". Apparently, this was not what he wanted.
Being fair, I doubt that he would have cared if we walked around in circles for the rest of our lives, so long as we are together, but just early this morning there was a strange smell in the air. It smelled fresh, yet cold. Something that I could not initially place. Bear in mind that it has been particularly cold for the past few days, and we were climbing in elevation. Can you guess what happened?
Yeah, it snowed.
It was not substantial, but it was enough to put Bakura in a sour mood. I do not think Bakura had expected it to snow. Perhaps he had hoped that we would cross over into a land where it did not snow during the winter. If that was the case, he did not receive his wish. He has not been particularly talkative as of late, nor can I blame him. He is still injured, and I wish he would stop so he could rest. Yet, it feels like he has some purpose to his steps. I guess that might have been why I never asked him where we were going. He just seemed so driven, though driven to what…concerns me.
Claire had been excited (because she had never seen the snow), until she realized why Bakura was not pleased. She had not complained when it was raining, but after we spent about five minutes hiking to who-knows-where her complaints began. It got so bad that even Bakura snapped out of his funk (yes, that's the only word I can think of right now) and made her add an extra layer of clothing. There were no homes in sight, so Bakura made me add another layer as well. I assume it was for precaution, especially since we had relayed our activities (tentatively) from when he had been absent, and he now knew that I had suffered from the Sunlight Syndrome. I had tried to hide that from him, as I knew it would depress him (which it did…I could see it on his face), but Claire had been adamant. Even though I didn't like the concept of telling him, it would be better in the long run. The important thing is that I am better, and can help him. Oh, and Claire stopped complaining for a whole twenty minutes afterwards. That was nice.
We are in a tent right now. Both Bakura and Claire are bundled up tightly in blankets we found before we got wherever we are, and asleep as I write this. Which is good, because I don't want anyone to see what I am writing right now.
I am nervous. Very nervous. I still remember the discussion I had with "The Darkness" or whoever he was, and I remember thinking he looked familiar. I could not place it just then, but with that scar on Bakura's face, I just cannot ignore it. Which means I trust that place even less than I did before. Because I trusted him, "The Darkness" with the purple eyes. I want to know what that world or land is, why I am going there, and for what purpose. It also concerns me that finally expressing these things to my companion in my left hand has provided no answers. He had not realized anything was amiss. That concerns me even more thinking about it now, for he's attached to my body. So how am I getting there?
I am even more worried for Bakura, because if I am seeing some variant of a doppelganger of him with all of these strange monsters (and I know he is prone to strange dreams), what is he seeing? And is what he is seeing leading him on this bizarre path we have been walking, away from the ruined civilization? Because even though he has not shown me the map or told me that we are lost, somehow, we are inexplicably still going "the right way". I know we are, even as I note that we need to find real shelter soon, and we will all die if we don't. (Well, to be fair the other two will definitely die, I don't recall what temperature would affect me with my bodily functions, but I don't want that at all…it's bad enough that I feel cold). I wonder if the insulation they built up around them will be enough for tonight. Is this tent even going to be enough at this elevation? Is their body heat? There's no point in wondering about that now. Both are too tired to go much further, no matter the faces that they put on. Something else is on my mind, anyway.
I bet you, more than anything, that even if we travelled off the road, we would always be traveling East. Bakura and I had sort of agreed to the idea before we met Claire, but I mean the fact that he is unintentionally taking us there. I want to know what is there and who is calling to Bakura, before we get there. Because if it has anything to do with the Millennium Items, that cannot be good.
Oh, Claire is shifting a lot. I don't want to be caught awake right now. Going to bed.
November 26, 2003
An interesting turn of events has occurred. I now have two people harassing me to eat.
I have flat out refused to "borrow" anything from Claire, as she put it, as it is bad enough that I must take what Bakura offers me, lest his sacrifice go to waste. For someone who fought so hard to not become a food source, he certainly does not mind being mine. That was cruel to think.
Either way, I had to eat today. That's not really the interesting part though. The interesting part is that I think that I might be able to achieve what they are hounding me about if I'm careful. Especially since I think the result will help them even more than myself.
I saw a deer today. It looked unaffected by the changes in the world, and it ambled along between the trees, unaware that I had seen it. Of course, it had been in the distance, but if neither…If someone doesn't stop reading Over My Shoulder, I am going to REFUSE TO TALK TO THEM FOR A WHOLE WE—
Okay, sorry about that. Claire noticed I had this journal when I took it out of my bag yesterday, and she's been trying to read it ever since. It is the reason I am writing today, rather than yesterday. I finally was able to break away long enough to collect my thoughts. I don't know why she does not understand the concept of privacy—YOU THINK I AM JOKING I AM THE SILENCE KIN—
She has been about as grating as she was when we first met, but I am beginning to get used to it. Lo and behold, she also seems to get along with my left hand, but we will see how well she gets along with him when he is making fun of her. Anyway…
I think if I can get away from them early enough, maybe I could catch a deer. I could drink the blood, and they could eat the meat. It would not be completely what I need, but it would be a good start. They need something more than a can of ravioli a day. I can tell that Claire is hungry for more, and sick of the repetition. I didn't expect that; would have assumed that she was used to eating the same stuff every day.
I'll keep you posted if I am successful.
D closed his journal, and looked up at their current lodging. It was…quaint. They had managed to find a sort of barnlike structure that had once been a store for farm animals and equipment. Bakura had left them there to rest while he scouted ahead. Past the hills and trees that surrounded them there were signs of a once historic town although it had been abandoned, no doubt, due to the chilly winters it must receive. He thought he might want to note that they may not be "lost" any longer in his journal, and so he did. It had been a source of great joy for all.
They did not know the name of the town, yet, as one of the major signs that they ran across that would have provided this knowledge had been broken from its place and carried off to who-knows-where. That seemed irrelevant to D, however. What was important was that they had finally found significant shelter from the cold, and a place where they might find more food. They were now running on a can of green beans and a bag of Chex Mix. Claire was noticeably irritable due to her hunger and opinion of the weather, and D did not want to hear any more complaints. He had liked her better when they had been risking their lives, looking for Bakura. It was like she had been sensible then.
Or perhaps he had been in too rough of a shape to notice. He was not certain. As he sat, watching her pretend to not care about what he was doing (she was definitely bored), he realized he might be thinking harshly. If he thought back to Andy, to Amami, and the other children in Domino City, she was not all that bad. A little grating, yes, but she was his friend. Perhaps he needed to help her keep her mind off things for now, at least until Bakura came back with something to eat.
She sat there, holding each side of her hair down around her, as if she was using it as a blanket. Her chin sat in the crook of her knees as she stared out of a rather large window. Sunlight from the passing afternoon sun filtered in, making her hair glow as a flame freshly caught on kindling. The look on her face could be described as one of discomfort and ennui. D sighed and put his journal away. He would go talk to her.
"It's warmer in here at least," he offered, sitting near her.
"So NOW you want to talk."
"Now I would like to talk, yes."
Claire gave him a scowl so fierce it made him pause. Had he really offended her that badly? "Why do you always have to talk like that?" She asked.
"Talk like what?"
"Like you are smarter than everyone."
D looked down at his hands in confusion. "I don't think I'm smarter than everyone. What did I say that makes you think that?"
"I said you talk like it. We're just kids, even if you are, y'know," she paused, realizing that she was being rude. It did not seem to bother her greatly as she chose to continue. "So why, whenever, like, I make you mad or you try to explain something, do you sound so OLD?"
"Old?"
"Yeah, OLD." She shivered and leaned against him for warmth. It did not do her much good, but D did not stop her. "When I was reading over your shoulder I noticed you even write OLD."
"You mean with correct grammar and punctuation?"
"Whatever. You don't write like I do."
D scratched at his head, unsure of how to explain the finer points of how he learned, and had been told to act. He was coming to find he was a terrible conversationalist. 'Maybe I should just refrain from talking, in general,' he thought to himself.
'Or lighten up?' his left hand offered. 'Never mind, you don't know how to do that, do you?'
For one second, D had thought his hand was going to be friendly to him. He shook his head. No, he just somehow surrounded himself with snarky people, he supposed. "I'm sorry," he offered, patting Claire on her shoulder. "I don't mean to do that. It's a bad habit I got from where I lived before…before I lived with Bakura-sama. Please don't read my journal, though. I like my privacy sometimes."
"I don't think that you should go sneaking off, if that's what you mean by privacy…"
"Sneaking off?"
"Hounding me about if I'm careful. Especially since I think the result will help them even more than myself. I saw a deer today. That's what you wrote. Don't be dumb. You think old, you act old, so you wouldn't write like me. If I said, 'I saw a deer today,' I would be talking about seeing a deer. Deer aren't exactly something you need privacy talking about, either. I don't know what it is, but whatever you are planning to do to 'help' us, that has to do with a deer, don't."
D's face remained composed, but his heart was racing. "What do you mean by that?"
"Ugh, now you are playing dumb with me!" she snapped, jerking away from him. "Deer are not super nice animals, my daddy told me. My momma said that one time, her auntie totaled her car because of one. I'm not dumb, you know! You are planning something, and you aren't telling meeee."
The boy realized that she had somehow stumbled upon enough of his plot (although he was shocked that she had applied logic to figure it out) that he would not be able to make a move without her assistance. It also seemed as if she would refuse. She did not know his reasoning; maybe it would change her mind. He opened his mouth to confess, but chose instead to ask for clarification.
"Are you angry because I might be doing something dangerous, or because I am not telling you about it?"
"Why are you such a jeeerrk!" She kicked at the ground in frustration.
"I don't mean to be," he said, "I'm sorry." Her silence would have been welcome under normal circumstances, but he felt bad. "I don't know how you figured it out with just that information though, or how you remembered any of it."
"I can READ."
D rolled his eyes. "I am aware. But not everyone can remember that much of what they read."
"I dunno? I have a good memory. And you're sneaky. So why wouldn't you be hiding something?"
D chuckled. "I'm sneaky?"
"Like super sneaky. Like creepy sneaky," she added. "Before I knew you were what you are, I thought I was going deaf or something. Half the time I can't hear you walking around."
"Oh…" D replied, playing with his fingers. "So, it is really obvious that I am not normal, huh."
"If you are trying to be 'normal' yeah. But why would you want to be what you aren't?"
D paused before saying, "Because of what I am."
Claire scooted closer to him again, her hands no longer entwined in her hair, but copying his own. "Don't make me feel bad. You're the one who's a liar. A sneaky liar."
"I'm not lying about anything."
"So, tell me what your idea is, then!" Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she jumped up. She shook him with all her strength, and he let his head bob back and forth, amused at her change of attitude. If they were friends, he did suppose he would have to accept her with her quirks if she could accept him for being what he was. As well as apparently forgive him so easily…
"I guess since you can shoot well, it might make it easier…"
He discussed his idea, and she put her own spin on it. Both concepts were childish, but it was in moments like these that they came to find a deeper respect in one another.
Outside, the leftover snow sank into the earth. The snowfall had been a warning for the winter to come. In time, another stronger storm would come about. It was this one that they had to be prepared for.
"Oh, what a relief…" Bakura whispered to himself as he reached for the knitted scarf he found. Now he just needed to find two more. Tugging it down, he felt the fabric to ensure it would retain warmth. It was almost blanket like, with a plaid pattern that no one could argue was ugly. He had made a good find. Carefully rolling it and stuffing it into the bag he carried, he began to dig deeper into the closet.
When he had first come into the house he had a frightening revelation; a decayed body lay sprawled on the floor of the entryway, a dagger still between their ribs. The smell had been atrocious, but it was not the first time he had to deal with a corpse, and it would certainly not be the last. Not in a world such as this. He had stepped over it, and continued on his way, readjusting the hat that had been placed upon his head as a reminder to whom he was searching this graveyard for.
For almost four days they had been turned around, and he had no idea as to how it had happened. The complaints had been minimal, even considering his ineptitude for map-reading, but he had felt terrible for causing any stress. He had hoped to find an abandoned city far from the two feuding ones they had just left, where they could rest and gather their strength during the winter, in order to be ready for travel in the spring. He was not sure of the weather in this land (or if it had been affected by the war), but the sight of snow, which he normally would have lauded as a beautiful sight, now seemed a dangerous foe. They were also severely low on food.
They had passed a few cities before veering off-course, and part of that deviance off the main road lay with what he had seen, and smelled coming from within. He was certain D had noticed, and would not have been surprised if Claire had as well. It had been rancid. Death seemed to surround them in this land, and he was unsure if life would ever return to these parts. Thankfully, the green glow in the distance remained in the distance, so he assumed they were not close enough to feel the effects. He hoped.
All this concern had put him in an abysmal mood, and he was doing his best not to show it. His side still ached with bitter pain as well, but it was either he pushed forward and ensured the safety of the others at his expense, or he rested and risked them all dying due to hunger, looters, or exposure. What a mess this world was. What a mess he was.
Bringing his mind back to the present, he found lacy shawls and sheer scarves that had fallen to the floor some years ago. All the fabrics would be helpful together at some point, but alone, they were just fancy decorations for an outfit. He shrugged and began rolling each one up. Claire did like to layer. Beneath the scarves was a hidden, unopened, bag of cookies. He was certain they were stale, but he packed them away anyway, just in case.
Much of the food in the town he was ransacking, for what else could it have been called, must have been carried off years ago by the former inhabitants, but here and there on his search for warmth he found cans that were just barely reaching the expiration date, or so he hoped. There was no doctor around if one of them was poisoned with botulism. He figured in time they would have to find a way to make or catch fresh food, but for that, he would want to be in his best shape. At this point, moving back to a standing position ached like he had been, well, shot in the gut. It was healing, but slowly. He was certain someone who had not been experimented on as he had been would have died due to shock and blood loss by now, so he was still counting himself lucky.
Stepping outside into the afternoon sun, he let its rays play against his face, knowing that soon it would be covered by clouds. He knew that this was not the best town to hide away for the winter in, since winter would be there full force soon enough, but it was far enough away from the others they had been to, and perhaps the weather would protect them from others. Who else would be crazy enough to live there?
After enjoying the remnants of the sun for that day, he began his journey down the main road, returning to his little group. It was getting late, and according to his map, this would be the quickest way back. He would have to find more warm clothing and scarves on another day. He did not like being separated from D and Claire, but he had wanted them to rest so that they would be able to follow him once he had found a better structure for them to live in. Some of the houses he had seen had been free of bodies, but he felt that if any looters somehow did choose to come through the town, he wanted a good vantage-point to see them coming. He did not feel that the houses available provided that. That would mean they would need to spend the night in that storehouse they had found. He hoped it was enough, just as he hoped what he had found had also been enough. His bag tapped at his leg with a heaviness he would have despised if it had not meant he had been successful in some way.
He passed by former shops that seemed surprisingly sturdy for how old they appeared, but none of them seemed too inviting or warm. Dismissing them, he noticed a large sign that was erected above a building he had not seen until that moment. Reading it, he nearly dropped his bag in his excitement. His mouth hung open as he clutched at the strap of his bag, and he wondered how he had taken a route to nearly miss such a find.
Before him stood a historic building, and while it was not the pinnacle of preservation, it was one of the better-looking buildings. It had a porch that also acted as a sort of sidewalk before it wrapped against a large veranda. Wooden columns broke up the railings of the second story, and while the paint was flaking, he could tell it had been a well-cared for establishment. Brick made up the bulk of the building, and signs screamed its purpose all around it. It was a hotel; one that would provide the view he wanted, and one to where they could create an emergency plan for, as climbing the small hill beside it, other intact homes made for perfect cover. It was not an apartment complex where vandals may miss them due to random foraging break-ins, but it was close. They would even be able to return to the place before the darkness of night consumed the land.
The door was locked, but with a few minutes and the right tools, he was confident he would be able to gain access. The door itself was sturdy, and would require a lot of force to break down otherwise. He was certain there were other doors, but those could be boarded up if needed. It was perfect. Inside was a lovely and abandoned establishment, and as he looked through the untouched windows, he imagined he could feel a state of comfort he had not felt in months. For as nice as the Ellis' had been, that had not been home. This could become one, even if for a short time.
A tune rang out in the distance and D silenced himself mid-sentence. His co-conspirator looked at him strangely, and then strained her ears to listen for any odd sounds when he put a finger to his lips. It was a song of some unrecognizable melody, but it seemed jovial enough. D snuck over to one of the windows and pressed himself against the wall beside it, craning his head to peak without giving away his position. Claire watched, breathless, as she waited for any intel on who it might be. Had Bakura been caught again?
As sudden as D had become serious, he let out a sigh of relief. He shooed Claire away from the window with a motion, and silenced their discussion with one word.
"Bakura."
She made as if to smack him, but the playful smile on her face gave her away. They made as if they had been playing a rousing game of tic-tac-toe by hurriedly drawing games in the dust on one of the boxes near the back. When Bakura entered the store, Claire's rage was real as she had lost every quick game they had tried to create. D gave her an apologetic look, knowing how it felt to lose indefinitely with no real explanation, but his focus was on Bakura. His mood had changed drastically.
"When doesn't it?" his hand muttered, and D clenched it shut before Bakura could question it.
"Good luck?" he asked his protector instead.
"Best luck," Bakura replied.
"At least someone has luck," Claire pouted, unintentionally making their ruse a reality.
Bakura's good mood was infectious and by the time they passed by the destruction of the outer portion of the city (a fire had apparently ravaged the area at one point, just missing the inner portion of the town, providing the reason for Bakura's original deviation off the main road) they were all excited to see their new abode. Claire most of all.
"I'm freezing! Do you think there's a fireplace?" She asked, grabbing her arms emphatically in a show of being cold.
"Maybe. I didn't get to see that, but—"
"Maybe we could make one! Oh! Or we could bundle up all of the covers and build a fort! Forts can be warmer! Do you think they have baths? I wanna bath!"
D's eyes widened as Claire punctuated each statement and question without letting either of them answered, but he remained silent. Bakura just smiled and let her ramble on, as it showed an improvement of her mood. It also reminded him of his sister.
In the end, it took a little longer than a few moments to crack the mysteries of the lock (although Bakura could not help but feel a sense of accomplishment when he did). The door swung open with an ominous creak, and stale air pooled around them in a wave of chilled welcome. Claire pushed past the two, the rapid thuds of her footsteps echoing through the entryway and into what looked like a dining area. It seemed this hotel held a rather cozy restaurant within it. Bakura called for Claire, hurrying for her, as D took a more cautious approach in going inside.
He stepped lightly, his footsteps soundless against the hardwood. His ears were attuned to every noise, from the creaking of the aged building, to the shouts of an excited girl. As well as the chastisements of their harried caretaker. The boy heard nothing else, aside from a few scurrying bugs, but they were irrelevant to his concerns. The place seemed safe enough; still, he was attempting to be more aware of his surroundings. Never again did he want to be separated from Bakura in the fashion they had before. He knew they would eventually depend on the boy's abilities, if they were not already. When that time came, he did not want to disappoint.
"Do you think this place will work?" D asked his hand. He held hope in his heart, regardless of the answer.
"Maybe," his left hand replied. "Can't say for sure, but this place will probably warmer than a tent by far. And you'll probably get your privacy."
D looked to his hand in surprise. Did he sense hope there, as well?
"Don't get your panties in a bunch," it added. "It'd just be nice to get some rest and relaxation before that guy screws it up again."
The boy clicked his tongue in irritation. "Give him a break, he's trying. We're all trying."
"You keep putting hope in a man that's probably well on his way to getting himself killed. It isn't safe."
"He keeps putting faith in a child that is the personification of his enemy; one that abused him for far too long. If he can trust me, why can't I trust him?"
"You're a kid. An adorable one at that. Look at how many people want to help you—until they find out what you are."
"You only make my point clearer."
His hand snorted. "How so?"
"He knows, and she knows, what I am. They trust me."
There was a surprising silence as D wandered the lower half of the hotel and restaurant combination. The more he saw, the more he liked it. It was old-fashioned, and only modernized in areas that were no doubt required by former laws. Glass glittered over the bar, where there were still unopened bottles of liquor. As he waited for his hand to come up with a comeback, as he always did, he pondered on the taste of the decorated alcohol. He knew in theory, and by what his father had said, that most vampires and the dhampirs that had existed before him could not drink it without severe adverse effects. Of course, they had their own version in blood form, but it still made the boy curious. He vowed one day he would try it.
As he was admiring the shine of glass in the faded light, his hand finally spoke up. When his hand responded, D was alarmed by the sincerity of its words.
"Kid, when you grow up, you'll learn the hard way that the people you want to trust won't always have your back. It'll probably be worse, since you are what you are, and you're just so goddamn trusting."
"Me? Trusting?"
"You can lie to yourself all you want. 'I don't need blood', or 'I'm not feeling these urges', or even as you just thought, 'I'm not trusting'. As if being cautious of strangers changes the fact that once you know them for a day you believe every word they say. But you do need it, those urges won't go away, and they're going to beat you down if you don't accept it. If you choose not to, of course I'm going to pick at you for it. Someone needs to slap you with some truth. Someone needs to remind you of what you are. Someone has to look out for you."
"And that's you?"
"You trust anyone who treats you like you're human. You aren't. You never will be. Stop lying to yourself. Stop letting them lie to you. Maybe then I won't be the only one looking out for your ass."
"I can look out for myself," D snapped, hurt by its words.
"It's what you've had to do, if you haven't noticed," his hand chuckled. "Was he there when you and Claire devised a way to rescue him? Was he there when you were ill?"
"Claire was."
"And she's a human child, who's going to probably turn into a very pretty young woman. What do you think you will want from her, then?"
"Don't be gross," the boy hissed in revulsion.
"Gross…" his hand snorted, "you have a strange idea for what gross is. It's just natural—for you."
"Shut up," the boy growled, clenching his hand. He regretted ever trying to hold a conversation with his ever-present parasitic counterpart. Turning his attention back to the bar setup, suddenly, the shimmering glasses held less of an allure. His spirit dampened, he turned away, holding back tears of anger. Because it was probably right. Not about everything, but enough. It had no reason to lie to him. "I'm going to live my life the way I want."
"Just saying, you're setting yourself up for heartache this way; and I am going to poke fun at you when you do stupid things, knowing full well it isn't going to work out."
"This might."
"Well, far be it from me to warn you."
"Deeeeeeeeeeee!" Claire squealed from the floor above, giggling. He could hear her stomping as she ran from room to room. "Heeelllp, he's gonna get meeee!"
D looked up at the ceiling and sighed. He wanted to feel that excitement, that lack of fear that things could not go wrong. For an instant, he had had it. Now all he could feel was a burning self-hatred, and sadness. He clenched his left hand harder, and let a scornful smile play upon his lips as he climbed the stairs. Might as well get his joy from somewhere.
Claire burst forth from a room near the end of the hall where the boy climbed to, all smiles and jubilant now that the promise of a warmer rest was present. She waved at him, beaming, unaware of the door that was creeping open just to her left, behind her. At first D was alarmed, but he caught sight of pale hair, and he recognized those scheming eyes. He was torn, who to aid? It seemed Claire was unaware of what was happening behind her, which was amusing, but did cause alarm in the back of D's mind.
How could they hunt without fear, or Bakura's knowledge, if she could not hear behind her?
As swiftly as she had burst forth from the door, Bakura grabbed her from behind, lifting her high off the ground. She shrieked, startled, but not afraid, and half-struggled against the man's grasp. A laugh D had not heard from Bakura since their time in Domino erupted from him, and it lightened the boy's heart. He could not remain morose for long, not in the presence of such precious individuals such as they. D did not forget the warning, but he did allow his delight to show, and joined in on the laughter.
He needed to laugh while he still was able.
Later that night, as they bunked together in one room (Claire had initially wanted her own, but had wandered back from her chosen abode only five minutes later due to fears of the Outies) D watched in silence as Bakura removed his bandages. He watched as the man's face formed a look of resigned anxiety as he stared at the front of himself, turned away from the pair. He had failed to note the mirror before him, or that D always took longer to fall asleep than the others. Their pattern for sleep was a little off as well, so even Claire, as tired as she was, was only lightly sleeping. It was a fitful mess, and since D was sharing the bed with her, he could feel her constant kicking around. He wondered if he would ever be able to sleep that night, before he whispered to his most trusted person before him.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked, hoping that Claire was in a deep enough sleep, so she would not barge into this conversation. She could be compassionate, but empathy was not her forte.
Bakura spun around to see the boy looking quite obviously at his wound, and he gave him a thumbs up, before turning back around to clean the front of it. D slid out of bed, partly to hold the discussion he wished to have, partly because he just had been kneed by Claire, who had turned violent in her sleep. Finally noting the mirror, Bakura shifted to where D would have a place to sit when he saw him coming. At first, the boy hesitated, but Bakura pat at the empty spot beside him, signaling it was fine.
D sat, and his eyes traveled again to Bakura's wound. It looked smaller, but it still was quite the puncture, one that had an exit wound to follow. How Bakura had mustered the initiative to walk as far as he had was nothing short of miraculous to the boy. He knew he would have been able to, but then again, that sort of wound probably would have been healed far sooner.
"Do you want help? For your back?" D offered.
"It's fine," Bakura replied, shrugging. "You should get some sleep." His eyes, however, expressed a deeper emotion. One that D was not about to let go.
"What's wrong, Bakura-sama?"
"It's nothing, D-kun. I swear to you, if it was anything that was extremely wrong, or could be changed, I would be the first to tell you."
"What's wrong?" he repeated.
Bakura sighed, clearly exasperated. When he spoke, even in whisper, it was in his native language. It made D feel as if he were hearing something secretive. "I'm only human, D-kun. I'm tired, I'm hurt, and I'm not feeling well. All in all, though, I'm fine. Please, as there's nothing that can be done at present, don't worry. We will be able to rest here, so it's going to get better."
"How do you know everything will be fine?" he asked, worriedly. Somehow, the honesty he had desired had only made his concern for the man worse.
Bakura grinned, and placed a hand on D's shoulder, bringing him into a hug. "Because," he said, "I have people I want to protect. And I have a good feeling about this place. Something good is going to happen here, I just know it."
"How?" D's brows were furrowed in confusion.
"I have great intuition," Bakura replied, loosing the boy from their embrace. "Now let me clean up, it heals faster this way."
"It's healing faster?"
Bakura shrugged, clearly unable to speak for what was occurring. "Probably remnants of whatever was happening to me over there…" D nodded, understanding what he meant. There was no need to elaborate on the experimentation. "It feels like years ago…"
"Technically, it was years..."
"Technically, but it was only at the beginning of this one that we were able to be set free. I still aim to let you taste that freedom, and see what happiness can come from this world."
D folded his hands in his lap as he watched Bakura continue the bandaging process. "Do you think…do you think I will ever really be able to feel that happiness? It's not just some far-fetched dream?"
"It will feel like that sometimes," Bakura responded, stifling a grunt of pain as he bound the wound. "I can't promise it will be perfect. No one is perfect—humans, vampires, or dhampirs—no one. Yet, there are moments in life that show it's really worth living sometimes."
"Really?"
Bakura turned and poked the boy in the nose. D blinked as Bakura stifled a laugh. "Yes," came his reply, honest and full of care. "Really. Even if you don't feel joyful at that moment, always remember it can come back, it will come back, and you can always bring that joy to others in the meantime. Also…" He looked back at Claire, who had somehow twisted the covers around her, and added, "while I don't mind explaining that the world can be a place where there's good in it, maybe we should refrain from talking about my injury, hm? There's no need to worry her. She has been through enough in her life so far, don't you think?"
D was almost too pleased with Bakura's reasoning to catch on to his request. Bakura was considering that he was a dhampir—he was not pretending otherwise! Also, while optimistic, he seemed to realize that even the world they desired was imperfect. Maybe that was something D needed to internalize a little more. It took a nudge from the man for him to respond. "Oh," he said, "Yes. Sorry. I just worry about you."
Bakura nodded. "And I worry about you. It happens when you care about someone. Anyway," he yawned, and taped up the loose edge of bandage before stating, "if any of us want a bath tomorrow, or a drink, we need to find some water. We've got a little left, but my priority lately has been finding a place like this."
The boy nodded, still considering Bakura's prior words. In a turn of events, it was D that first hugged Bakura goodnight, before shuffling back to his shared bed. Only when he felt himself drifting off, did his mind consider the last expression on Bakura's face. Had he looked more than just discomforted? Those bags under his eyes…was he ill?
With a start, D's eyes snapped open. A few hours had passed since their conversation, and the scent of a frigid night was in the air. He had heard Bakura get up, but had not been concerned enough to awaken fully until he heard the retching. Claire was awake as well, groggier than he, but it seemed the heaving had been loud enough to pull her from her slumber. The concern in her eyes was apparent, and when she mouthed, "Where's Bakura?" her shoulders shook in apprehension.
He only shook his head at her, and put a finger to his lips. Sliding out of the bed, he made a motion for her to follow as he shrugged on his coat, and the newly gifted scarf, around him. She followed suit, although she had more layered pieces apply.
Once they were ready they made way to where they heard the sound. It was not on the second floor, nor on the first. D's ears had already discerned where, but it took until they had reached the first floor for Claire to recognize it. "He's outside," she whispered, "Why's he outside?"
"Maybe because the plumbing doesn't work?" D presented.
"Did he look sick to you?"
D agonized over telling her the truth. Bakura had asked that she be left out of how his wounds were affecting him, but technically sick was not the same as wounded. He took in a deep breath, knowing she would continue until she received a response. Better a half-truth than nothing with her. "A little."
Claire gawked at him in disbelief. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I thought it was just because he was getting over being hurt." D realized it was more truth than half, but it did not seem to matter. There was a look on the girl's face, one he would not recognize as one similar to what she had expressed when he was ill, and it spoke of the fact that once again, she was more perceptive than either gave her credit for. Maybe she could not perceive people behind her, yet. That did not stop her from putting pieces of information together to see the bigger picture.
"He's probably sick because he's been walking around all this time, hurt and stuff."
D nodded silently beside her.
"We should help him, then. Get him back to bed. Give him some water and medicine."
A swift realization came upon the boy. "We're low on water!" he cried out, louder than he had intended.
Claire blinked. "We are?"
"Yeah…I heard Bakura-sama mention it to himself," D affirmed, trying to keep their recent conversation to himself. Not that it mattered much anymore. "After we help him, we need to go and find some. I guess he hadn't found any in the places where he had checked."
"Should we even let him know we are up?" she asked. "He might try and stop us, if he knows."
D pondered on what she had brought up. Bakura had obviously not intended on having them hear him. If he came up, and went to bed seeing them 'asleep', he might not be aware until they had already gotten the water for him. The last thing any of them needed was Bakura to push himself even further.
"You're right," D replied.
"And you're insane," stated his left hand. D glared down at it.
"And you're being a big, poopie-pants downer," Claire interjected before D could reply. Both were stunned into silence. "We don't have time for whining if we want this to work. People don't throw up forever."
"Did you just—" the hand started.
"Call it a—" D continued.
"Did. I. Stutter?" Claire interrupted. She rolled her eyes as she grabbed D's right hand. "Boys," she snorted, exasperated.
D allowed himself to be led back upstairs. He could hear the heavy breathing from outside; Bakura would be coming up soon. Again, he marveled at Claire's understanding of the situation. Mostly, he marveled at her tenacity.
They tried to readjust themselves as best as they could in the bed. Claire balked at the idea she had entrenched herself in most of the blankets, but D was far better at recreating the scene, so she lay there, a slight frown on her face, as she pretended to sleep. D tried to feign sleep as well, but his mind childishly relished the fact someone had talked back to his hand. Talking to the hand, he thought, and stifled a giggle. He received a prompt smack to back of the head.
"You're supposed to be sleeping!" Claire hissed. D silenced himself, knowing that he did have to take this moment seriously.
Bakura trudged up the stairs about ten minutes later. Claire was dozing beside him; honestly the best method of feigning sleep was to be in its general grasp. He did not think she had meant for it to be as intentional as he had. D had been asleep until he heard the door swing open, and continued his deep breathing as he let his eyes crack open a bit. Bakura looked far worse than he had when they had spoken, but even so, he looked on at their 'sleeping' forms with such tenderness. Clearly, this man was more altruistic than he was self-preserving. D knew, if he was not careful, that would be his doom.
The sick man found his way to his bed, and climbed into its inviting covers. D watched as Bakura's body shuddered against whatever illness had consumed him, and the boy tried to still the unease building inside of him. It seemed like ages for the other to fall asleep, and only once Bakura was fully asleep, did D nudge Claire awake.
They made their way downstairs, D holding the pack, as well as the flashlight, and Claire holding her rifle. It was more for precaution, and Claire had refused to let D carry it. He was not about to argue at such a time. Not even if he assumed he would be able to fire it more accurately. They needed water, and the sooner the better. Preferably, without Bakura waking up to bickering. D had considered utilizing his hand in a way he knew he could in theory, making Bakura fall into a deeper slumber, but he did not like the idea of leaving him so defenseless. So, it was up to them to remain as silent as the night around them as they left the hotel.
The cold surrounded them, as did the darkness. Claire stayed close to the boy, aware that he was the only one who could see well in such light. They did not know where Bakura had searched, but D tried to use his best judgement as he led them around the quiet town. The small beam of light bounced around every dark corner that Claire flinched at, to ensure her nothing of note was hidden in the depths. The houses they broke into seemed to hold nothing. If not nothing, then decaying food and the remnants of the dead.
"Oh, I hate this!" Claire complained as they found another useless home, stripped of anything useful. "There should be SOMETHING here."
'Maybe Bakura came this way?' D wondered, also displeased with the lack of anything useful. There was no way the town had been cleared. They had not seen anyone as of yet.
Neither of them said it, but at this rate it would be day soon, and with day came the chance of Bakura awakening to find they were missing. Their intention was not to alarm him, but to help. Their eyes met in the dim light of the flashlight, and they nodded at each other. A silent promise that they would succeed. They had to.
This provided them with a drive to speed through the next through houses. Nothing. The next few, they raced through, albeit with a critical eye. Nothing. They picked through the next two houses with extreme caution, taking even longer. Not a bottle of water, not even a drop from the tap. Not even food. Nothing.
Both children were at their breaking point for patience; Claire at her natural point of tolerance, and D, up against his deepening concern for Bakura. D tilted his head, straining for the sound of water around them. As he breathed in, he was ever more scrutinizing of each scent. Claire watched him, befuddled. It was as if he had just stopped functioning, and was staring at nothing in particular.
"Hellooo?"
He raised a hand to silence her. He thought he heard something near the tree-line. To the right of them, they had reached a point where the forest began, and the houses ended. Could it be that there was a stream of sorts nearby? It was a possibility, D surmised, as he had seen animals on their trek here. They had to drink from somewhere. Day would be coming soon as well. An hour before the beginnings of dawn would color the sky, no more. This was their chance.
"Follow me," he said, and Claire walked with him as they maneuvered their way to where the trees crowded each other in their never-ending search for sun. To Claire, the trees seemed like a hazy line in the dark, blocking them from seeing anything that would come against them. Only the nearest tree trunks held shape and texture. To D, he could see the glimmering eyes of an owl that was watching from a tree further in the neighboring woods. A racoon racing along the edge of a rotting fence. He listened, hoping for the sound of water. The sound of a nearby twig snapping had him hold an arm out to keep the girl from moving forward.
"What?" she whispered as he eyed the ground. It was confirmed, they had not been the ones to break the twig. Yet, it had been close.
"Shhh…" he said, again motioning for silence, "I heard something."
Claire's eyes lit up with excitement. "It's early," she whispered, "the deer might be out. You probably heard one. We could do what we said, and maybe find—"
"Hush!" he shushed her. What part of quiet did she not understand?
She looked as if she were about to yell at him, but her eyes drifted to just behind him, and her eyes widened. The light from the flashlight shone against the whites of her eyes, making her fear all the more perceptible. Any words she had to state were silenced by a single squeak of recognition. That there had been a reason to be quiet.
D felt his face heat up, not with embarrassment for failing to hear it in time, but with the same fear that Claire felt. For he did not doubt she felt the same presence as he did. An aura of fearsome strength surrounded the two, holding them in their place. D did not want to be the one who crumbled, who failed to protect his friend, so he turned with the last of his bravery to be face to face with their foe.
His dark eyes, black as night, met with ones that burned blood red. The boy held his breath as he and Claire stared down the vampire and the man beside him. The man had, no doubt, been the one who had caused the twig to snap. There was no way that the vampire before them would have been so careless. D telepathically sent a plan to his left hand. If there was only one thing he could do, it was protecting the girl. He would have little time for much else. His body tensed as he prepared to shove her out of the way. Claire was tense, as well, in the beginnings of positioning herself to shoot, when the vampire before them spoke.
"What are you two foolish little children doing outside so late at night?"