Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.
Ten years! Wow, I can't believe it. I hope that any of the readers I have are still enjoying this. I didn't think I was going to get it done in time for this day, lol.
It's also the longest chapter, I think. Although, that wasn't on purpose.
Feel free to drop me a review/message to tell me your favorite part in the story so far (it's nice to hear, and good for me to know writing-wise). I'm flying pretty blind at the moment.
Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter Forty-One: Dichotomy
also known as "Hate Love; Love Hate"
In the waning afternoon, two riders paused from their trudge through unfamiliar territory. D rubbed at the brim of his hat, his eyes askance in thought. The way that Claire's gun strap beat against the buttons on her jacket sounded like stirrups jangling. Her muttering, like a song. Sweat beaded upon her brow as she fussed with opening what he was pretty sure was a very expired candy bar, and he wondered why she did not just take off the jacket. She seemed miserable.
Then he smacked at a mosquito that aimed to take what little blood source he had away from him, and he remembered.
Its tiny, useless carcass fell to the earth, and the boy considered eating it out of pure spite. Then he decided against it. He smushed the dead bug deep into the mucky dirt, offended. Even with his ability to withstand certain temperatures, he felt grumpy.
A long stretch of dirt road peppered with the occasional aspen or beech lay before them, and squinting, the boy saw that the flat land continued for miles, ending in a tree line to what he assumed to be a river. Knowing their luck, the river would not have drinkable water. There might be a city, however. Somewhere.
"We should get back to that farm," Claire mumbled around the wrapper that she held between her teeth. "They said they weren't going to be gone long."
"Maybe they found a welcoming city," D mused. Water, no matter how undrinkable at present, usually denoted life would surround it.
"Sort of hope not. Fresh food's easier to find when there's no one around."
"We have things to barter."
"Yeah, and if they're still living off of canned stuff, they're going to sell us the expired crap." With a yank, the bar finally became released from its casing. She broke off a piece and handed the quarter to D, who respectfully declined. She shrugged and popped it into her mouth.
"At least candy isn't that bad when its expired," she mused.
"You know they don't make us eat the expired stuff."
"Duh. But they do. That's a problem."
Popping the bulk of the bar into her mouth, she let out a sigh of discomfort. Leaning forward against the handlebars of his bicycle, D fanned Claire, uncomfortable just by looking at her.
"You're right. We should go back," D said as she playfully batted his hand away.
"Don't worry about me. I'm used to hot weather. Not sticky hot, but hot. We probably should get you out of the sun more than me."
"I'm fine," he said.
"Liiiar," she sang, rocking on her heels. "Let's ride!"
He rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm as she kicked at the pedals as if goading on a horse and followed.
It did not take them long to reach the road that opened into a driveway of an abandoned farmhouse. Gravel kicked up from their spinning tires flung behind them, while birds chirped their tunes from the trees. The shade provided a reprieve for the already weary wanderers.
"So…vampires are scary," Claire said breaking silence between them. She twirled at the remaining tassels of her blue-green handlebars. "But they're not all bad, right?"
"What?" D asked, puzzled by the direction of the conversation.
"Ewan was cool, and he was a vampire. You're cool, and you're like, half. I was just thinking about it. Not all of them are bad, right?"
Something about how she asked her question warmed the boy's heart although he could not place why. "I'm certain there are others out there that aren't all that bad. One's I haven't met."
"One's that don't follow your dad, you mean," she giggled. "Just trying to live their lives, like us, huh?"
She kicked her feet up, trying to let the momentum of the bicycle do the work for her, forgetting it did not work on an incline. The front wobbled and her whole speed slowed, and she glowered at the thing like it was its fault. D laughed.
"If they were nicer about biting people, they wouldn't be so awful, y'know?" she pointed out, an attempt to distract from her near upending.
"I know."
"Do you think we'll ever meet another one?"
"Don't know."
"Oh, woooow, you don't know something," Claire teased, and hopped off to wheel her bicycle the rest of the way.
"I'm more concerned for you; at least I know some things."
"Jerk!" she cried, sticking out her tongue. D mimicked her. They both laughed as they deposited their manual vehicles beside a decorative hitching post and went in through the side door of the farmhouse.
While the paint peeled in the muggy heat, the charm of the old home still shone. The many peaks of its sandpaper-like roof made for dangerous but fun seating arrangements for the brave and foolish. And the reason why two audacious children had been warned against it that day when they found it. Both vowed to at least find a seat on the section that covered the long porch late that night to look at the stars while feeling the night breeze. They were light enough that the columns of the porch, with their decorated arches, would hardly creak at the change. Every window loomed large and frosted with damage at the edges. Most were shaded by tattered curtains; ones that were insect and rodent chewed. D could hear the affronted squeaks of the tenants that would retake their area once the four interlopers moved on as they entered through the front door.
"Knock, knock! We're hoooome!" Claire hollered into the empty hall. A rattling sound shook the innards of the unused fireplace, and small chunks of soot and ash fell with a patter into the leftover pile of former logs.
D breathed in the stuffy wood-scented air and felt his muscles relax at the homey ambiance that the rustic structure produced. He sat on the abandoned sofa, for all had clearly been abandoned (although the reason remained unclear), and flipped through a magazine that seemed to inform the décor of the very living room they rested in. Claire soon joined him, flopping on the other end as she took up her guitar to pluck some strange tune she formulated on the spot. They had yet to find a thermostat that did not require power, but the weather made it difficult for them to play. Each worried for the other's safety, and both were to stubborn to admit to their discomforts to each other, saving such discussions for the elders of their nomadic family. While a sweet notion, it filled both with a mild distrust: D knew of basic human weaknesses through observation and previous learnings, and Claire clearly recalled D's unfortunate bout of sun sickness.
They both knew this, and of each other's obstinacy. And as children, they did absolutely nothing to resolve it.
"I want a paiiir of big diamond eariiiiings," Claire caterwauled, eyeing a fashion magazine still in the holder by their seat, and then strummed against the strings with zeal. "Or a really nice pearl necklaaaace." She thumbed a sad ode to and for the loss of her own pearl necklace—neither child could recall where and when it had been lost—before she shifted back to her spirited ditty.
"Huh," D mused, inspired by her playful song, "I want to get my ears pierced."
"He wannnts to get his eeearrrs peiiirrrceeddd—wait." The music stopped abruptly. "Really?"
"Yeah," he said, flicking the page with a cream advertisement over to a page bedecked in warm reds and light browns. He disagreed with their choice of rug; it looked too modern for the pastoral ambiance they were going for. "I think earrings look nice."
Claire looked at him as if he had grown nine heads, and then rubbed her chin in thought. Her narrowed eyes twinkled much like the light that refracted off the glass-made windchime that remained diligent on the porch of their temporary home. "Do you have a preference for what kind of earrings?"
He snapped the magazine closed. "You sound like you have something in mind."
A shark-like grin formed on her face. The sofa creaked beneath her as she scooted toward him conspiratorially. "Maybe. How much trouble do you think we'd get in?"
"Considering my healing capabilities? Dunno."
"There's a box of jewelry upstairs. It's got lots of neat stuff." She pulled his hair behind his ears, studying their small points as she absentmindedly toyed with her own. "We just gotta clean the ones you like. You in?"
"Maybe." He pyramided his hands to his lips, thinking. "If we're fast enough…you want in on it, too? We'd really get a talking to, then."
"Or maybe they'll want some, too?"
They giggled into their fists as they ran up the stairs. The rats within the walls scrambled at the pounding of sneakered feet, the loud proclamation of children at play on a sweltering day.
Elsewhere, another pair faced less luck in acquiring their desires.
"No, no can do," the person at the haphazard gate emphasized, rubbing their bent glasses with the end of their t-shirt.
"Surely you can't be serious?" Mai grilled. "We're not dangerous. We just ask that we trade some of the things we have for what you don't mind—"
"And I've been telling you, no."
"We have children to care for," Bakura implored. "All we ask is that you let us in, just for maybe a half-hour, so we can get what we need."
"Listen," the man's face drooped with sweat and curved with annoyance. "I get it. You all aren't the first to come here, looking for help. We're through with that. We've been burned before."
"Burned?"
"I don't gotta explain myself to you."
"Isn't there any way—"
"I said no, and I'm tired at playing nice about it. I get why he doesn't understand," the man jerked a dirtied thumb toward Bakura, "but you should know better."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mai seethed, pausing only when Bakura tapped her shoulder, shaking his head.
"Thank you anyway, sir," Bakura said. "Do you know of a city nearby that is open to others?"
"No. Most that are together are sticking together. Only idiots are traveling further than they need to." Noting the offense that crossed both weary travelers' faces, the man sighed.
"I say that because there might be some other idiots down-a-ways by the airport. Can't promise that they'll have much, but they might be more receptive to a pair like them crazy enough not to have settled by now."
"The airport? Which way is that?"
With an aggravated sigh, the man drew them a brief map in the dirt that pointed them in the direction they needed to take. By the time he finished, another one of his cohorts came upon them.
"Trouble?" murmured the citizen.
"No," Mai said, hefting up her heavy bag and directing Bakura to follow her. "We'll be going now."
With a curt wave, the duo was shooed off from the entrance to a once bustling city, now walled off and barely functioning with the weight of its populace. Bakura turned his head for one look back at the shadowed buildings, wondering how long such a place would last. When consumed by fear, how long does it take until those on the inside are called to question?
The fate of Domino City and the attitudes of those that escaped made him snap his attention forward with the same breakneck speed he turned his focus on the future.
"Stupid. Moronic. Obtuse. Idiots." Mai punctuated, kicking at a lonesome pebble as they rode onward upon the slightly congested highway. Her cheeks glowed red as her favorite lipstick.
"I can't say that they're making a great decision," Bakura agreed, trying to shift his seat. His legs ached even along the flat path. He could swear bruises were forming in unpleasant locations between his thighs. He stood upright on the pedals, letting the forward motion carry him a way for a snippet of relief. Only, after that, his knees began aching.
"And they were just…ugh. How can you really act like that during a time like this?"
"If they were like that when the world was 'normal', I'm not shocked they would continue."
"It's ridiculous," Mai said, picking at a string on her shorts, trading her jeans only momentarily due to the inescapable, stifling heat.
"I'll take the old school discrimination over the supernatural kind. I'm at least used to that."
"We shouldn't have to be used to or taking any of that bull."
"I'll tip my hat to that."
"Hat? What hat? You mean the one you left back at the farm?"
"I legitimately didn't know it was going to be this bad."
"You see, this is why none of you all could beat Yugi." She laughed at the sight of him rolling his eyes. "Can't even remember to wear a hat when it's sunny out."
He shrugged at her as she pointed to her baseball cap, poking her tongue out only to whisk it back in as a fly assaulted her face. Bakura kept his head low as he snickered at her expense, not wanting the same to happen to him.
They rode by what looked like a quarry, green water still in the manmade basin. Bakura gripped his brakes and slowed to a stop. At the edge of the quarry, turnoffs split into many directions. One would take them back to the temporary shelter they had found that day; the others, the unknown. Except, if they kept along the highway, they would eventually reach the airport.
"Which way should we go today?" He asked.
Mai wiped away the sweat uncaught by the band of her hat. "Not sure. We've left them alone for a long time today. Who knows if they stayed put?"
"They've been doing pretty well with that," Bakura said, receiving a pointed stare from his companion. "Recently?"
"Do you think the others will follow us? Or find them?"
Bakura shook his head. "The place looked pretty abandoned. If they are looking for food, I doubt they'd be doing it today."
"Yeah. Only we are crazy enough to endure this heat."
"We need the essentials, maybe a little more," Bakura replied, scrunching his nose at a pungent scent. He watched a slick looking creature pop up from one of the errant bushes and dart across a parking lot dotted with unused and abandoned vans. It gripped a mouse between its jaws, stopping only to eye the new arrivals with distrust for an instant, before scurrying off with its meal. Bakura jerked a finger at the wild animal, seeing Mai's less than enthusiastic look. "Unless you want to end up smelling like that thing."
"That wasn't a skunk, was it?" She asked, pinching her nose.
"No, I don't think so. Too thin looking, too same colored. There were some skunks that we saw by the…sea."
"Do you think Claire has ever had 'the talk?'" Mai said, turning their minds from the former topic.
"Where the hell did that question come from?"
"I'll take that as a no." Mai fanned out her arms, as if welcoming the light of the sun. In truth, she presented the idea, the weight that hung in the air even after a few moments of silence. "Have either of them? I mean they're still young—"
"And don't have to worry about expectations like when we were their age," Bakura cut off. "Not like most of us cared for that until we were older anyway. Let them be kids."
"Let them be kids? You didn't strike me as so old-fashioned."
"I'm not. I just don't get why you're so concerned about it right now."
"Considering the life they're live now, if someone attempts anything, if they don't know they won't be prepared!"
"We can ask, but something tells me that wasn't the main reason for your question," he said, crossing his arms. He could practically feel his skin baking, and soon had to uncross them for the perspiration that threatened to become rivers if he continued. "D knows, anyway. He's a smart kid, and we've been through that kind of trouble already. I do know Claire was warned that bad things could happen to her. I'm just not sure how 'in-depth' the discussion was."
"That's awful."
"Yeah."
"Still doesn't cover Claire."
Bakura sighed, his shoulders slumping as he cracked his neck in exasperation. "You're right that we should warn her about the dangers of what others could do, but, they're kids. I doubt they're really worried about the opposite sex…or the same sex, right now." He placed a foot upon his pedal, thinking. He was positive that Claire had little interest in the matter. D, on the other hand…Bakura had never considered what a dhampir would be interested in more as they hit puberty. That, or blood. Maybe he did need to ask, if only to inform his own ignorance. The window of childhood would soon meld into one of adolescence and would sneak up on all of them if they were not careful.
'I really didn't think this all the way through,' he thought. But still, he would never have changed his past choice in bringing the boy along. He turned his attention back to Mai, who busied herself by picking a fluff of fuzz out of her hair. "You can talk to her…you've got…y'know."
Mai snickered. "Scaredy cat."
"I won't deny it."
Without another word about it, they kicked off, passing the mark denoting the turnoff on that would lead to their temporary abode. 'Just remember 74,' Bakura thought in repetition, hoping they would be back before dark. Mai rode ahead, weaving across the painted lines like a loom preparing a tapestry. The ability to silently agree as it their intuition played off one another presented itself as another boon. A pleasant reminder of what it was to have a good friend.
Based on the man's drawing, the airport did not look so far away. It felt like ages, however. Their tired bodies cried for rest; every marker they passed reminded them that they had more to travel. They paused just before a bridge to take a swig of water from their diminishing supplies and watched as waterfowl and other wild creatures scurried about between the massive line of trees that hid a wide river. Pushing his bicycle just a little further, Bakura rested atop the bridge, letting the light breeze that blew across the rippling water cool his face. Mai soon joined him, flopping her upper half over the cement wall. She let out a sigh of relief.
Bakura sat in his position for a little longer, admiring the leafy trees against the blue sky that was beginning to fade in color one way: their sign of evening's return. As he turned his head, he caught an eyeful of the next highway sign, and laughed. It was an exit. An exit to get to a Regional Airport. Mai looked to see what he was laughing about and shook her head. It had taken them less than an hour, but it had felt like ages.
They found it to be a small airport, wide and wanting for official-looking buildings. There were a few hangars that they could see, even before reaching the parking lot, and for as devoid of buildings it appeared also devoid of life. The airport also lacked in shade, two scant trees holing up in the distance, and their reprieve upon the bridge faded in memory at the full return of the slow setting sun's heat.
"Hello?!" Mai called out to the near empty parking lot. No one responded from the hangar at the front of the lot, or the eatery that rested at the side. She crossed her arms in agitation, motioning with a cock of her head to follow her into the diner. Bakura followed with no other plan in mind.
The interior of the diner looked harmless enough through the glass of the door, homey, with old-fashioned booths that blocked the view of half of the restaurant. Mai grabbed the handle and tugged. They both heard the lock catch, thunking back into place when she released the handle. Her brow furrowed, and she pulled back the handle; the corners of her lips twisted then flattened, ending as straight as the road behind them in her frustration. Bakura nudged her aside, the back of his hand tapping at her arm, and took a turn. Their eyes met as the door jammed upon itself again.
"They said people were here, right?"
The question hung between them like the weight of the stale and humid atmosphere. Had they wasted their time? Mai's arms fell at her sides, her anticipation deflating.
Leaning to the side, Bakura tugged on the door again and watched a half-turned lock thwap against the metal encasement. A locked door—but not locked all the way.
Bakura pressed his forehead against the glass, observing the entryway, the lights, the floor. The dirt on the inside showed a slight curve, as if the door had opened recently, leaving a clean sweep where the rest remained dusty. The grime was a dark reminder, a measurement of just how long the world had departed from the need for such establishments. Except…for the footprint on the dusty tile surface just before the carpet began.
Someone was around.
"Look!" Bakura whispered, tapping the glass where he saw the mark. He breathed in an inverted chuckle of excitement.
"Hello?" Mai attempted once more, and Bakura moved aside as she knocked on the glass. His hand hovered just at his hip, his shoulder loose to show a sense of friendliness, but ready to snap into action if necessary. She knocked harder when they did not hear or see anyone in response. Soon she was using her balled up fist, the pane shaking in its frame with the force of her action.
"Hey, hey, hey!" A muffled cry rang out from within. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
"Finally," Mai breathed, wiping at her forehead, fluffing her curls even as they drooped in the humidity. She turned herself just so, the sun changing her loosely waving crown into a golden cascade. Bakura rubbed at his nose with his true free hand, trying not to snicker at her primping. Her tendency to care about first impressions was generally helpful. Yet, the strange way she could automatically switch her disposition left the vast differences comical. From a cantankerous sweaty scowl to a fresh-looking sunshine smile; Bakura bit his lip to stymie his widening grin.
A man's shadow stumbled forward from the depths of the diner, murmuring some unheard expletive as he fumbled to the sealed entrance. Brown eyes puffy with sleep and a little age first came into view; a man with a face flecked with freckles manifested shortly thereafter. He stood in the swept path of the door, a bent pipe clutched in his scarred right hand, the large knuckles threatening to burst through the tanned skin. The pipe slid to the floor as he observed the ones who had been accosting his door. A ghostly glimmer of a smile touched his lips before they firmed into his cautious grimace again.
"Mind telling me why you two are all banging on the door?"
Mai took the initiative. With a tired but dazzling smile she introduced herself and Bakura and said, "We were told that there might be people who we could possibly barter with here. Is that true?"
"Huh…so they're still being supreme assholes back in town? Guess I'm not that shocked. Name's Graham Donaldson, you can call me G if you want to. Not too much here, but I'm guessing you're looking for the basics, like food and water?"
Bakura and Mai glanced at each other. Friendly, but a little bit of a fast talker this one was. A far better prospect than those in the city. "Pretty much," Bakura said, letting his previously tensed hand hang naturally at his side.
"And soap," Mai added.
Graham lifted his cap and scratched at his head while considering their words, the short red strands of hair slightly depressed at odd angles before becoming flattened by the cap when he returned it. "I got some stuff, but it's not much. Not many of us are here. In fact, I dunno who you got your information from, but there's only the three of us. We don't need much nor have much—" he paused, noting the distress creeping into their eyes, "—but we don't mind sharing!"
"It would not be right to ask you to just give us things. It must be rough for you all as well," Bakura said. "We are sorry for troubling you and yours."
"Come on now! You don't know we don't need something you guys have! I was just letting you in on our position here. Hell, I'm sure that we'd all love to hear someone else yammering aside from myself or Simon…Zoe doesn't talk much, you'll find, she's big on studying."
"If I may ask," Mai said, leaning against the side of the building, "why is it that there's only three of you? Why are you here?"
"Oh…uh…sort of a long story." Graham chuckled. "Best to tell you all out of that heat. I can feel it from where I'm standing. If you've got the time, we will tell it, and look at your wares. In fact, …
I'll call them for you right now."
The click of the lock snapped through the empty air and when Graham opened the door a musty smell of abandoned building blew in their faces, woody and dusty, but slightly cooler than outside. Slightly. He ushered them in and with great caution, Bakura stepped forward with Mai following soon after.
Graham guided them to the back of the diner, just into the kitchen. The metal of the sink was cool to the touch, and both Mai and Bakura rested upon it as the man twisted a battery-powered walkie-talkie on, calling to his fellows to meet him at "base". Bakura watched him as he appreciated the cool surface upon his forehead. Mai sat upon the floor, leaning her back against the deep bottom of the basin. She sighed audibly as they cooled off.
"They'll be here soon, but I can start. We," he pointed a thumb at himself. He paused for effect, but with the speed of his usual speech, it dragged on just a little too long, making the pair blink at the awkward silence. He cleared his throat. "We are getting the hell out of here."
"Is…is there something wrong with this place?"
"What isn't?!" Graham said, laughing.
"Really?" Mai asked.
"They called you strange at the city," Bakura said, remembering what the man had said.
"They probably said something worse! But they'll see we aren't stupid. We will never get back to the way it was if we just hole up and forget the things we have done as a society!"
"What do you mean?"
"Connections! Networking! Industry! FLIGHT!"
"Oh, holy shit, who got you all riled up, G?"
A woman who looked just a bit older than Bakura appeared at the entrance of the kitchen, a manual in hand. A bandana pulled back a swath of tight dark curls, its bright pattern contrasted against both hair and skin. Her nose scrunched in annoyance at the two travelers, but her words and attitude were directed at the man.
"We've got visitors, like I said," Graham said, sniffing at her tone.
"You didn't say," the woman grumbled, hand and manual resting on her hip. "You just told us to come here." She turned her head, eyes like granite glinting with cautious curiosity. "I assume we're all on friendly terms?"
"Yeah," Mai said.
"Just here to trade," Bakura added.
The woman snorted. "Poor bastards," she murmured under her breath before offering them a smile, shaking her head as if shaking her annoyance away like a pesky fly. "Name's Zoe Parks. I'm sure G's explained that we all don't have much here, but if you don't mean any harm, you're welcome here any time."
"For as long as we're here, at least!" Graham interjected with a joking smile.
"We don't plan on staying long," Bakura said. "We just needed a few things, maybe a few days to rest, and then we'll be out of your hair."
"Oh?" His words made Zoe's head bop up in interest. "Where're you headed?"
Mai gave Bakura a look like a cat about to bap a cup off the corner of a table. Bakura gave her a sliver of a shrug. "Long story," Mai said. "We don't tend to stay in one place too long. And it's not just us, we've got two others to our group."
"You didn't mention that," Graham said.
"We were going to explain further, after you were done explaining your story," Bakura said. "They're kids by the way," he added after seeing Zoe's face wrinkle in concern. "We do need to get back to them soon."
"Dragging kids around…"
"We would really like to hear why there are only three of you," Mai requested, exasperated with the conversation and the heat that still seeped through the walls.
"Might want to wait for—"
"This better be good," a new arrival called out, stomping his way into the kitchen.
Zoe sidestepped to escape the stranger's hustling form and let out a snicker when, in his hurry, he tripped over Mai's leg. Mai hissed in pain, drawing her leg back, as Bakura grabbed for the man's wrist, trying to right the man before he fell flat on his face. In surprise, the man jerked his arm back with the force of a horse rearing. Bakura pivoted, pressing back on his toes to reclaim his lost balance. In the end, the two ended up as a heap on the floor, entangled just before Graham's boots. The redhead shook his head, trying not to show his amusement as much as Zoe was. She remained at her original position but hunched over, cackling at their misfortune.
"Son of a bitch," the man growled in discomfort beneath Bakura, working on untangling his limbs from the other. He looked up at his only assistance and cohort in the fall and Bakura watched as the lines of anger abated as the man's wandering teal eyes searched his face.
"Are you okay?" Bakura asked, managing to kneel just above him. The floor felt cool under his knees, but hard enough to deter him from staying down there much longer.
"Daijouwha?" cracked the newcomer playfully in response. Glasses with one lens split diagonally sat askew on the man's nose, magnifying one eye a little more than the other, making the goofy grin that spread across his face even more ridiculous.
Bakura's cheeks flushed. "Are you okay?" he tried again.
"Better'n okay."
Bakura blinked. "What?"
"Never mind." He raised his hand for aid and Bakura helped pull him to his feet. He stood a good head taller than Bakura, who wondered how he had thought he could have stopped the broad bulk of the man from falling. Ruffling sandy hair, the man that could only have been Simon looked around, readjusting his spectacles and getting a look at the havoc he created. "You okay?" he asked of everyone.
"Watch where you're going!" Mai complained, a bruise already forming on her leg. She rubbed it to quell the throbbing.
"Oh, damn. Sorry." He offered a hand to Mai who took it begrudgingly. It appeared standing was safer at the moment.
"Welp! We're all here!" Graham said, grinning. He fussed with his hat again. "You've met Zoe and me; this here is Simon."
"Simon Dupont" Simon said, shaking Mai's hand and tossing Bakura a wink. Bakura felt heat build in his face, and he coughed as he gave a little wave back. He could not explain why, but that awkward feeling he tended to get when receiving attention from his so-called "fan-club" flared as Mai's eyebrow raised at the interaction. A significant grin formed on her lips.
"Pleasure to meet you," Mai greeted, her pearly teeth glinting in the light. "Think I can forgive you for a little stumble. Lighting's kind of dim coming in here. Come on, Bakura-kun, you can talk. Say hello." She eyed Bakura with a wicked sparkle in her eye, one he could have sworn he had seen aimed at Anzu once or twice. He wanted to roll his eyes at her, but he did not want the action misconstrued in front of their new possible allies.
"It is nice to meet you," Bakura replied, offering a warm smile; inwardly wanting to smack Mai over the head, much like Claire did to D on occasion. He did not know what her game was, but he was not one to be made fun of. Although, if he started doing that, it would be a bad example since they were trying to get Claire to stop assaulting poor D's skull. The girl was too touchy with her emotions. Especially her negative ones.
They eventually got through the rest of their name exchanges with Bakura and Mai giving the most general of rundowns regarding their situation, mostly to express the need to soon leave for the day. Thanks to Zoe and Simon, Graham finally stuck to one subject long enough to explain why these three unrelated misfits had come together.
"Nobody ever wants to leave the comfort of what they know for the unknown, without some insurance that there's something on the other side," Graham began, as everyone took a seat around him. "But sometimes, well, sometimes life forces our hand, and it's a better thing to take on the unknown than wither away and die in what you do know. That's where our story begins.
I know I don't look much like it, but I'm a pilot. Commercial pilot. I clean up real nice, but the need to look snazzy, like Miss Mai here, isn't really sought after much anymore. I can even do the fancy voice if you want but let's save that for the kids.
I wasn't working when all this happened. Had a family emergency that called me back home. Here, if you couldn't tell. And after that, all hell broke loose.
We all tried to make do with the way things were, but with the way people started talking, I knew we weren't going to be going down a good path. It was connections that kept us all together, and strong, but people started getting closed up and close minded after a few scuffles with a few desperate and confused people. Realizing that the city I grew up in was going to go down a bad path, I came up with an idea. The only problem was, my friends thought I was nuts."
"We're losing daylight," Zoe said, flipping through her manual behind them, using a sliver of sunlight to do her reading. "Might want to speed this up."
"I'm getting there," Graham sniffed. "Anyway. I thought, hey, why not go see how other people are doing, before the gas goes bad, and people forget what the sound of a plane is like. The original problem was that the available planes were crop dusters. The bigger problem came when we found out some bastards demolished them all to get back at us for some slight.
It really got to the few that thought that it was a good idea. Gave up and left the project. Not that there was much of one anyway.
Soon, my idea stopped being 'let's check on the others' and became more of 'I gotta get the hell out of here'. You saw how they pooh-poohed you out of there. There was some kind of sickness that was going through the city. A contagious one, with no cure in sight. One that was two parts better-than-thou and one-part apathy. I wanted nothing to do with it. My last living family had gone after the hospital's generators went out the first time; I had no ties. So I told anyone who'd listen:
Let's get a plane working and get the fuck off of this continent."
"Why?" Mai asked.
"Because…because what if it was just us that was fucked up? What if there were some places, untouched, that were just fine? Living normally, living like nothing had changed, watching as the rest of the world went belly up. I might love where I came from, but I also know that…well, we aren't always of the right mindset. I mean, have you, in your travels, seen anywhere that was normal here?"
"No," Bakura offered, "But it wasn't just you that was affected."
"I'm aware of that. There was enough bombs and nukes to wreck most of the known world, but there are places that people would forget to hit. Or maybe, not hit, because of some conspiracy theory thing that I've never been partial to. Who's to say we didn't overreact and make it all worse? And even if we didn't, wouldn't it be better, just to know?"
"I suppose it would depend on the person."
"Exactly!" Graham said, slamming his fist on the counter, pointing at Bakura, who awkwardly shifted on his seat upon his heels. "That's how it should have been. But then there was this bullshit ultimatum that the city passed. No more ins and outs. Stay put. Forget mixing. Basically, stop dreaming. Stop being who we were as people before. I couldn't do it. So, I told those who cared that I was out. Done. Find me at the airport. I'm not giving up.
Thought I was alone. But then Simon here shows up before I leave, telling me that he was learning how to fly before for fun, and offered to be my co-pilot. So, of course I say, come onboard! I've got jack-shit, but we can do this!
Next, Zoe here comes along a few months later. She tells us what little that had still been running like a normal city had finally taken a nosedive, and that the free classes she had been participating in had been cut off. They didn't need any more mechanics, they wanted seamstresses and cooks, and field-hands for the farms they had been developing in-city."
"Left a little bit of a bad taste in my mouth, if you catch my drift," Zoe interjected, flipping another page, writing notes along the way.
"So, for years we tried to make-do, hitting snags here, attacked by raiding parties there…until we realized:
If we were going to do this, we needed a bigger plane."
"Huh?" Both Bakura and Mai were mystified by the idea, and Simon laughed at their joined response.
"We need a good amount of gas if we're going to go anywhere substantial," Simon explained, "that means, we needed either a private jet with a big enough tank, or a commercial plane. There's a few problems with that though."
"Jet fuel has a shelf life of a year or less. It's definitely gone bad," Graham ticked off, "and we have no private jets here, or commercial planes. Also, the longer we are only theorizing, and not off the ground, the more I'm forgetting, and the less practice Simon's getting."
"If we can get somewhere that has a refinery of sorts, or someone that can theoretically work machinery we don't have," Zoe added, "and we can get a plane of the size we need, we could be off. But that takes a lot of willing people, and we also want other people to come with us. No point in doing this and only being a group of three if we are attacked when we land."
"Therefore, I might have lied when I said that you could stay for as long as you wanted," Graham said, his eyes sparkling with hope. "But I'm hoping, considering what you've said, when you're ready…
That you'll escort us to a city where we can find the equipment we're looking for and come with us when we lift off."
Bakura's hand rested against his chest subconsciously at the offer. His mind raced with thoughts he could not decipher. It felt like the world was sinking around him, and—
"Yes, do it!" a voice whispered.
"Come!" another shouted.
"It's been too long!" cried another.
"You owe us!"
"Bakura?"
He opened eyes unknowingly closed and faced the dim light that was fast-fading as the day passed. Mai looked at him with concern, her lower lip quivered in worry for an instant before firming up in the way she had trained it during the harsh life she had lived before. His heart throbbed as if he had taken a run up a steep incline and his mind swam with the echoes of voices that seemed to be getting worse as the days wore on. Not that anyone but himself knew of it.
"What do you think?" he asked, feeling as if his mouth moved like chewing taffy.
"I…defer to you." He wished she would stop looking at him with that pity, like she knew what was going on. Her next words calmed him, reminding him that it would not hurt to make someone aware. "Where you go, I go."
"Then…okay." Bakura said, nodding. He stood, offering his hand to Graham to shake. "We'll do it."
What was the worst that could happen? Death?
Death had shown its face in the west.
"Oooh God, I hate it!" Claire shrieked, palms pressing her mouth out like a gasping fish.
Barely able to contain himself D put on his most serious face as he read, "She let out a girlish gasp as he entered the doorway, her heart all a flutter. His muscled arms, with biceps practically bursting from his suit, swept her up into his arms. His cologne was an intoxicating aroma of all that was manly…"
Claire shrieked again clawing at her face as her ears were too tender to take the beating. D cackled from his perch upon the computer chair, unable to read the next line for the lack of air in his lungs. The things some people read; his cheeks burned a tinge of red in a mix of amusement and secondhand embarrassment.
"It's so baaad," Claire cried, now smothering her face in her hands. "Please stop. I can't anymore. It's torture!"
"You don't want to hear about how she could feel his…oh." D blushed and slammed the book closed. "No. We're done."
"What?" Claire's head snapped up as swiftly as a cobra's strike. "Lemme see."
"No."
"Why?"
"It's bad."
"Duh."
"No, it's, like, worse than I thought."
Her eyes lit up; was she an imp of mischief or a girl? "Lemme see," she demanded, scooting to her toes to pounce.
"No!" He could not help himself from laughing. She looked far from menacing—her hair up in high braided pigtails to keep the strands from disturbing her, eyes slashed with blue eyeshadow, clawing out her hands in a continuous fashion of "give me".
Not that he held any frightening appearance. His own locks were up in buns on either side of his head, at Claire's request, lips dyed the most vibrant red from a previously unopened lipstick tube (he would have refused to play with it otherwise). Silly designs decorated their eyes with eyeliner used in the most inappropriate of fashions. The heat made them restless, and as ill-behaved as either could have been, this perhaps was the best result.
"It's about…" he cupped his left hand to his mouth, ready to whisper the secrets of the tawdry tale. "his peen—"
"His dick," his left hand finished, shouting in as deep a voice as possible. It sent the two children to rolling on the floor, their peals of laughter a sharp contrast to the silence that surrounded them.
A silence that was broken with a crack of a twig for the boy, who sat up with a gasp. He tackled the girl and covered her mouth with his right hand, straining to hear. Two, no, three, no five. Five pairs of footfalls heading their way.
Claire silenced herself the instant he tugged her to him. She could not hear the incoming steps that dug the gravel deeper into the dirt, but the fact that the boy's heartbeat held the tempo of hummingbird wings was all she needed as a warning. She did wriggle in his grasp as he edged his way over to the second-story window to peer out into the twilight, straining to see what he could, but the contrast of shadow and light was one of annoying indecision. Too much light entered her eyes to see the shadowy figures properly.
His sigh of relief mimicked the evaporation of the tension as his eyes spied familiar white tresses at the edge of the tree line.
"It's just them."
The short-lived relief ceased as the two realized that "just them" had brought along visitors, and in appearance, the children were not particularly visitor ready. Claire scrubbed her eyelids with her fists, only succeeding in creating a glimmering blue constellation across her cheeks. She glared at her hands as if it were their fault that the makeup was not smudge-washable.
D lowered his sleeve in observance—the limb formerly poised to rub off the lipstick. A messy shirt and a wax-incrusted face? His mind flashed an image of blood-smeared lips. He involuntarily shuddered; he'd take looking as he stood rather than give off the impression of an abysmal creature of the night. Drawing further attention to already sharp, pointed canines lay the furthest away from what he wanted.
Whispering a brief thank you to sense—the room looked polished and dust free due to the cleaning they had performed, nary a sign of make up or the needles and disinfectant they had used before losing themselves in drugstore literature—D motioned for Claire to follow. His hands found the hem of his sleeve and he twisted it until one of the seams popped. He hoped the disappointed looks would be saved until after their visitors left. The evidence of their playful disregard upon their face when meeting strangers felt like a reminder enough to stay out of future trouble. Not that they would. Nor did D feel much remorse in piercing his ears.
Simply looking unpresentable made the boy regret his decision to put the powdered brush to his face.
Sheepish steps clattering down the steps welcomed their returning fellows at the door. Bakura entered the home with a grin that did not catch his eyes; a sign of deep concern festered within the man. However, the expression that manifested as the man caught sight of his two charges morphed into something the boy could not decipher.
Mai's look of horrified amusement read easier.
"And this," Bakura introduced, with a peep of a stutter sliding between the words as he presented them with an open palm, "is Claire, and D."
"Pleasuuuure to meet you," Claire said, curtsying low, owning her eyeshadow-slathered face. Her foot lost its purchase and D caught her with a speedy snatch before she fell and fashioned a blue streak as the newest décor of the staircase.
"Hi," D squeaked, mortified.
His embarrassment carried well into dinner after the introductions were through, but his wish to bury himself in the backyard, never to return, ebbed away after receiving a compliment from Zoe regarding their hairstyles. D's cheeks rose with heat as he had to explain that he was D but took some pride in thinking that his mother must have shown through at that moment in his appearance in order to be confused. Claire flounced around the table, uncaring of the confusion, more interested in the tales that Graham had.
D also leaned forward on the table (bad manners, his brain noted, not that he cared at present) enthralled with the exciting ideas that Graham spouted. The idea was as wonderous as it was foolhardy. To think there could be anyone willing to fly a plane in present conditions made the boy's previous risky behavior seem tame. Well, aside from one instance.
Yet, such confidence! And across the Atlantic no less! The boy wondered what might have occurred if his father had found these ambitious individuals first. Even D saw the usefulness of humanity's stubborn and inventive nature. He himself contained half of it.
The difference between him and his father lay with the fact D knew that they were working with these people as equals. There would be no trickery; no underhanded, carefully worded half-promises. At least on their side.
Nor was there a stifling feeling of stagnation or staying in one place. These people seemed to be friendly, welcoming, and focused on their task at hand. Oddly enough, these were the people that D could say he would be happy to live with.
That was…if they could accept him for what he was.
Bakura watched D's captivated expression cloud over and wondered what had soured his mood. He set the thought aside, assessing that later held the better time for asking.
At least everyone seemed to be getting along. Bakura thought up a thankful prayer to whatever deity listened that Claire had all but omitted Outie from her vocabulary. Charisma bubbled from her, even as the cosmetics upon her face worked against her, and he could tell that she brightened the room for the others, as well.
And when she shared her penchant for music, her fingers picking at each rich note in her self-taught way, what tension remained melted away like frost awakening to a spring morning. Her eyes came alive as she thrilled them with high energy then almost danced as she softened the mood with notes so heart wrenching, he could see tears forming in Graham's eyes. She lived for an audience. This lonely girl who had been so close to killing them in their first meeting now came alive when meeting others.
Bakura's attention turned to D, whose expression held a sense of pride in his friend, silently rooting her on from his preferred corner, away from others. A memory, older than the children themselves wriggled its way into his focus. Hands playing in the sand, building castles alone, but content, while watching a girl with pale white hair like his dance around with others their age. His mother resting on a park bench, her eyes half on them, and half on the book she had brought; a tired and content look upon her face. A nostalgic wave of happiness, of the sun shining on them while the breeze carried the clouds to the make-believe kingdom that he and his sister devised. Then his sister turned to him, her smile the sun, so warm, so inviting, and Bakura remembered dusting off his hands, unable to ignore her invitation.
Claire strummed a note and let it hang in the air as she pointed to D, whose expression mimicked that of knowing prey in the crosshairs of her rifle. He raised his hands as if to say "no", but then rose to his feet and grabbed a flute they had found from its place in his bag, before joining her just as the sound of her song had died in their ears. The new one they presented soothed weary hearts, endearing them to their new allies faster than anything Mai or Bakura could have managed.
Sitting there with his hands folded in his lap, Bakura loved the music, loved the memories that came from its call, and hated every moment that took this feeling away. When it came time for the children to bow, Bakura clapped with the rest of them, letting his tears for his sister fall as he watched Claire beam at D, just as his own sister had all those years ago.
"You have a hard time letting go of the past, don't you?" Mai asked later that night, after situating rooms for their new companions. Her words felt more like a statement, almost accusatory, like the hooting of a nearby owl frightening its game into view. The children tucked away in their own rooms for once, lay sleeping, their soft snores near silent in the hall of the second story. They had exhausted themselves in their revelry, and whatever other nonsensical amusements they had busied themselves with while the adults were away. It had been a time getting that makeup off them.
"That's not very fair," Bakura replied, a sigh of laughter leaving him. "You've had your own head stuck in the clouds of the past a few times, even before this."
"Uh huh. But this isn't about me. Don't you think it is time to move on? Have a little happiness in the now?"
"What do you mean?" He turned to her, an incredulous look that raised his brow greeting her knowing stare. "I am happy."
"You're happy taking care of them, I get that. So am I. But I don't really think you're taking your…emotional happiness into consideration. The happiness that people desire that doesn't come from taking care of someone. You know, the more selfish side?"
"Ugh," Bakura grumbled, rolling his eyes. "I can already see where this is going. Mai, you're not the first person to bring this up. I don't need a relat—"
"You need someone to confide in, Bakura-kun," she punctuated with a slight stamp on the floor. "We help each other out, yes? We talk to each other about things that might be too rough for the kids to hear? But I know that there is plenty that you aren't talking to me about. Maybe it's about that magicky stuff you do, I don't know. I was a part of it so there's no reason to hide anything there."
'I don't remember her being so nosy,' a faint voice mused in his head. He shook it off for the moment, in part because he disagreed. This was not being nosy. Looking at her folded arms, hugging herself, leaning into the doorframe, looking just as lost as he felt sometimes. No, she was worried for him. Legitimately.
"If it was something serious—"
"You'd tell me," she finished. "But Bakura-kun, when you don't take your sadness seriously, or acknowledge that there are ways to combat that loneliness, you're going to go down a bad road. Trust me, I know."
"I appreciate your concern. Really."
She tittered. "You want me off your ass is what you really want to say. Fine, say you're okay, and that everything is normal. But if there's something deep down there, you need to let someone in before it eats you alive. Maybe you need a fresh pair of eyes on it—"
"No, Mai."
"I'm just saying, it wouldn't hurt! He looks like he was interested."
"In you, more than like." Bakura shook his head, his cool fingertips against an overheated forehead. This was absurd.
"Bullshit."
"Yeah, bullshit," Bakura agreed. "I don't know him, though. There's also a chance he's 'not my type.'"
"Oh!?" Mai's eyes brightened, and she wrapped her arms around his torso. "Who is? Am I finally going to get through some of this wall and learn more about you aside from our nerdy similarities?"
"Mai, stop being ridiculous," he pleaded, but slumped in defeat against her pressuring smirk. "I don't know. I don't know who I'd trust with all of this stuff going on in my head or what I would even say to someone I liked in such a way. I wouldn't want to burden them with my problems anyway, if I found them.
Sometimes I hate the way I can't talk to people, or that I can't get over things that normal people would have. Ever since…" Bakura looked to Mai for an out, for her to say anything to distract from the conversation. Yet, she only stood there, holding onto him, listening.
"Ever since what happened to Amane, my sister—who was honestly my biggest confidant that I've ever had—it's like I can't connect right with others. Everything comes back to her. Even when all of this," he flapped his hands a little, to signify the entity that would come at his beck and call, "happened, I first attributed it to her. I thought, hey, Amane's protecting me, Amane's watching over me. I hid, and I hid from what had happened to me, just to imagine she was still there."
Again, his words were greeted with accepting silence.
"But even now, I keep thinking it. Even though I promised I would stop. Somehow, she is there; in Diabound, in Claire's smile, in your willingness to give everything up to follow us even though we put you in danger. Taking the lead when I don't think I can…
There's only ever been one person that made me stop thinking about her as someone who could come back. Someone who made me feel like all of this—unpleasantness—was over. One. And…" Bakura shook his head, tears of frustration forming at the corners of his eyes, hot as brands. "I doubt that he's even alive. It wasn't like there was anything really there like you'd expect, either. Thinking logically, we barely were getting to know each other. But it was something? Just that…he'd understand. He'd get it."
"Are we looking for him?" Mai asked. "Is that our end goal?" It was clear she did not know who exactly "him" stood for, but just her question lifted a weight Bakura did not know he had upon his shoulders.
"No, I don't think so. Maybe. There's a chance. I don't know," he sighed. "Some of it. Getting D away from his father is another. The rest has to do with the 'weird magicky thing'."
"Are you ready to talk about that?"
"Honestly?" he breathed. "No."
"Then maybe later."
Bakura nodded and turned to enter his room. He bit back a yelp when her arm appeared before him, stopping his escape from the discussion. Her finger pressed against his nose, stern lines surrounded her eyes while a small smile played on her face.
"Just clearing something up. I'm only going to say this once. You know he wasn't looking at me. And you know that was a look of a guy that was interested."
Bakura crossed his eyes to view her finger. His fingers drummed against his thigh as she made no move to remove it. "Can we go to bed?"
"Admit it."
"Mai—"
"Admit it."
"Nothing's going to happen; and it's not relevant to what we need anyway."
"You say that," Mai chastised, "but so much can happen from here to the East Coast. Maybe you'll move on from him."
Bakura shuddered involuntarily. "Don't say it like that."
"Why?" Concern washed over her visage and she did lower her hand. "Does it have to do with your magic?"
"Not really," Bakura dismissed. He moved to open the door to 'his' room again. "More like, it was how you said it would hit a nerve in D-kun, too."
"Oh," Mai tapped her chin, trying to make sense of it. When she thought she had, she moved the discussion to a different topic. If her supposition was correct, then it really was better to just refrain from the tone.
"Hey, Ryou-kun," she said instead. Bakura's hand rested upon the door handle, his posture one of a deep fatigue, but still he turned back to her in good humor. "Thanks for thinking of me like a sister."
Her smile lit the darkened hallway better than any lightbulb could at the moment, and Bakura felt even more at ease. She tossed her hair behind her shoulder, as she was prone to do, and added, "Really, I'm glad. I've never had a little brother before."
He laughed. "Go to bed, Mai-chan."
They said their goodnights and Bakura found himself staring at the darkened bed that welcomed him to sleep. He paused, eyeing the room in scrutiny. A dresser rested just beside him, with a useless lamp beside it. A mirror hung just above it, catching the edge of the bed in its reflection. Walking up to the mirror, he sighed when he saw his likeness. Once, people could have said he never changed, but now, it was like he was looking at a different person entirely. Sure, his hair was still white, and in his favored hairstyle, and he looked no older than his age, but as his hands roamed his collarbone up to his neck, he recognized the lean muscle and sharper angles were more defined than ever. His hands even felt rougher, calloused from their days of work that he could have never assumed possible of him.
Bakura rubbed at his tired eyes, viewing one of the few new injuries that had not healed well, once again marveling at the fact he even still held perfect vision in both. Leaning against the dresser, he listened to its soft creak in protest to his weight. He caught sight of the desk's mirrored image and turned to observe the antique that was shoved into a claustrophobic spot between the foot of the bed and its adjoining wall.
Straining his ears, he listened to the sounds of the old farmhouse and the silence that buzzed in his ears told him, admonished him even, to go to bed. All else had done so.
So, he parked himself upon the coiled mattress and willed his body to give into the exhaustion that filled him. Yet, in mere minutes he realized rest would not be possible. Flopping onto his side, the coiled metal creaking under his weight, Bakura willed his mind to silence itself. Seconds later, he sat upon the edge of the bed, his nails digging into the palms of his hands.
The whispers always were the worst at night. He raised his arms, hands poised to cover his ears, and lowered them impotently at his sides. The more silence, the louder they were.
"Come quickly."
"Yes, come!"
"Don't falter."
"This is ridiculous," he muttered, glaring at nothing in the darkness. "It's a wonder that you didn't go mad sooner."
Laughter, harsh and grating filled his head. Although it would have frightened many, including himself in his youth, it now soothed him in a way that the nighttime breeze through the window could not. Nothing else needed to be said when emotions ran the same path.
His knees popped as he stood again, but the rest of their protest ended as he made his newest seat the wooden chair belonging to the desk. A matching pair, just as old, battered, and worn as the young man felt that night. Weight might have been lifted that night—but what was one stone to a tonnage of boulders?
In mild curiosity, he fished through the desk, filtering through the little odds and ends of the past tenants. Paperclips, tape, post-its. He found a pen and placed it on the scratched surface of the wood. The next drawer held manila folders, index cards, packing tape, bubble wrap and envelopes. He took one of those.
The last drawer was stuck. With great care not to disturb those sleeping, their successful attempts to be respected, he placed a foot upon the middle drawer and tugged with moderately increasing pressure upon the last compartment. It protested with a loud screech of wood against wood, and he held his breath, ears attuned to any disturbance. When no sound came from within the house apart from its natural settling, he pulled the drawer out the rest of the way.
Inside held ledgers, stacks of notebooks and loose-leaf paper. Inquisitive, he pulled them out and observed a lifetime of farm work and business put to paper. All of it, down to the most recent number of feed bags. A business no longer in place, taken by the selfishness of the elite few. Although…maybe they had been a part of the elite? He could not hazard a guess.
Turning from this, he took a lined sheet of paper from its stack and rested it on the well-worn surface of the desk. The moon filtered through the open curtains that fluttered gently against the window, his light source as he lifted the pen to write—
Dear Amane,
What day is it? I don't know. I can't even remember the last time I wrote to you.
Memories have been plaguing me lately. Some I can remember clearly, while others, I feel like I don't know if I can trust them. Was it a trick the last time I believed to see your face? The promise made to forget you, to move forward, to only focus on the boy? If it was, it was still a good suggestion, I guess. I've always been bad at following through with suggestions. But I am trying.
We have traveled so far from Japan, and I've made quite a few new friends, and enemies. I think you'd like Claire. She's just like you. Uncannily so, but she is her own person. I don't remember you being so well-versed in playing guitar. You were better than I was at baseball, though.
I wish I had been able to bring a picture of you now. For a long time, I could just look in the mirror and see you there. Now…well…now your big brother is a bit of a mess. You'd probably say, "When aren't you." But I wonder if Yugi or anyone else I remember would recognize me now. Well, Mai did, but we've both changed a little since then. Our favored outfits have at least. It's all about practicality now.
You'd also like Mai, I bet. She's cool. I never got to write about her before; we met in Duelist Kingdom. She was a little different back then. So was I. She also told me to move on…as I think you did? I'm sure you'd agree to call her an honorary big sister, although I don't know if I'm quite ready for that just yet. Nevertheless, it's good to have friends this close; you always had them. I suppose it's finally my turn, now.
I'm beginning to wonder if I'm not relieved you are gone. It hurts me more than I can stand to think it as I don't think your passing was pleasant by any means, but you deserve better than what protection I can offer. I feel the same when it comes to D and Claire. I'm sure when everything is better, I'll retract that, but I'd never wish you could take my place with everything that has happened to me. I'd hate that.
You know, the more I think about it, I might have a problem with opening up to people. A BIG problem. I'm sorry I'm always unloading this on you.
Normally, I suppose I should be discussing this with someone else, but until we really find a place to settle down, relationships would just mess up what we've all got going. But…then again, am I running from the idea? I never know what to do. I already have this love-hate relationship with making friends. And who isn't aware that I can be awkward?
Oh, I know—New people.
Maybe I should try opening up more. Or try something else. Just because I never have doesn't mean I shouldn't. But…what if he is alive? What if he isn't? What if I am setting a bad example somehow? At any rate, one look does not an interested person make.
Who am I kidding? Who would ever want to deal with me that intimately? I can summon a ka that most would see as a demon, hear voices that ask me to avenge them with no explanation as to how, occasionally tormented in dreams by a being I think I'm supposed to know and no doubt is leading me to my doom, and I'm being chased by a vampire that held me captive for experimentation—and in response I took away what he considered a success. And then I taunted him. Even I know that's too much to ask of anyone. I didn't even tell father about any of the strangeness when I did find out why my friends had fallen into comas.
Suppose it doesn't matter, either way…
I hate being indecisive.
…I wonder if father is alive. If he isn't, say hi to him for me. I'm trying my best not to be a disappointment.
I miss you with all of my heart, and I know one day, we really will see each other again. For now, please find it within you to forgive your big brother for not writing as often.
I hope that there are no voices that haunt you.
With love,
Ryou
D awoke to the sound of sniffling. The haze of sleep cleared instantly as he sat up, although it was just in time to smack foreheads with Claire's tearful form.
"Ow!" she hissed even as she sucked in another gasp of air through her clogged nose.
"Are you okay?" the boy asked, unfazed by the collision. "Why are you crying?"
"I don't know!" she snapped at him, as if the tears had been his doing. "I wake up like this sometimes. Well…I did before running into you guys," she added, seeing the boy's confounded expression. "Anyways, I can't sleep. Let's go!"
"Go?"
"To the porch, dummy!"
Comprehension hit him and the boy nodded vigorously. His hair tangled in his new ear décor and he batted the strands away as he followed the girl. She had silenced her sniffling to aid in their sneaking onto the roof. The trip itself held a perilous air—every creak of the floorboards seemed like an alarm blaring. Yet they arrived at their destination with little fan-fare, the coarseness of the roof making the climb all the easier.
"What time is it?" the girl asked, yawning. Sleep still dotted the corners of her eyes.
"I think around 3:17," the boy surmised, looking at the alignment of the stars in the pitch-black sky.
"It's crazy that you can do that."
"Yeah."
"Super cool, though."
The boy's face darkened. "I guess."
Claire frowned. "Why do you get like this sometimes?"
"Why did you start crying in your sleep again?"
She grumbled something unintelligible and smacked the back of his head in part annoyance, part play. He continued his indifferent stare into the distance, demanding an answer of her before he promised his. She scowled at him, recognizing his unwavering resolve.
"I don't know," she muttered. "I had a bad dream, I think."
"You think?"
"I can't remember! It's fuzzy. I just remember some kid crying and then I'm crying, too. My momma always said I dreamed too hard. So, since I couldn't sleep, I figured this would be a good time to climb up here and went to get you."
"Strange," D said, making a rare motion to pull her into a hug. She gladly accepted, scooting into his embrace. "Sorry you had a bad dream."
"Eh, it is what it is. Your turn." Claire bit at one of her nails as she waited for D to speak. "Why do you get like this sometimes?" she reiterated when he did not speak up immediately.
"Sometimes I hate myself," D confessed. "I know, I know, you say I'm 'not a monster'. And you aren't the only one who's told me that. But there's so much about me that everyone has to tiptoe around, that I have to be careful of. I hate myself for being born. I hate my parents for having me. But…that's not true, completely. I can't hate my mom. It wasn't her fault. And for what little time we had together, she loved me. It was his fault. For everything."
"Oh, D," Claire said softly, resting her head on his shoulder.
"But I don't mean to take it out on you, Claire," he said, barely above a whisper. "You're my best friend. I feel normal around you. You think I'm normal."
"Ish," she teased.
"Ish," he repeated. His small, natural smile flashed into existence like the starlight above. He bit his lip, the coloring in his cheeks deepening as he gave her a shy glance. "Don't take this in a weird way, but I love you, you know. I love all of you guys. I've been afraid to say it, because it felt like, if I did, you'd all be taken away."
"I love you, too," she said, her voice as soothing as the porch wind chime that tinkled in the night's breeze. "We'll be friends forever. I'm not ditching you…ever."
D slowly blinked and glared down at her incredulously. She let out a soft snort of laughter.
"Don't hate yourself, D," she said, becoming serious again. "You're a good person. So long as you stay one, and stick with what you believe in, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Not even me."
He let her hug him with all of the strength she could muster, and they watched the moon's slow crawl through the sky. D thought about his life in that moment, how the stars swirled around them, unfeeling but stunning. He wondered if it was easier to be something like a star. They lived far longer than humans, but even they had an end; burning gasses until there was nothing left. Did he? Was there some inevitable end for him, as well? Or was he damned to watch everything change, cursed in seeing the beauty of things far more fragile than he?
Why did he always think of these things when looking at the stars? The boy let out a sigh and rested his chin against his hand, his arm perched on his knee. He almost laughed as he thought of yet another unanswerable question to himself: could one be sad and content at the same time?
Only midway through the moon's descent did D notice Claire snoring beside him. At some point, sleep had whisked her away. He laid her upon the roof of the porch and moved a loose strand of hair from her face. She looked peaceful, his dear friend, and no matter where life took them, he hoped she lived a full and happy life.
"I can't wait to fly in a plane with you," he whispered, an excited little boy confessing his love for adventure to his greatest friend.
He placed his nightshirt under her head and rested beside her, letting sleep take him like it had taken her, whisking him off to a dream of best-case scenarios. His imagination spun him a world that accepted all for who they were, one where Bakura's smiles were always real, and Claire always dragged him into some type of harmless trouble.
He cherished that dream.