Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.
Important note...updates will be slow for the next few months. I'm going to try to push it to a chapter a month like I originally intended, but my life tends to pick up like crazy this time of the year, so I will do my best not to have you all wait more than a month and a half. Either way, it might be a while before I can go back to my bi-weeklyish pace.
I hope you all enjoy the chapter! I read on a different site that longer chapters are hard to read on mobile sometimes, so I will try to keep chapters after this at the 8k mark for ease. I know this one is longer, but I did feel bad with the fact that updates would be slower, so I did not want to pause it on something I felt was...incomplete chapter-wise.
If this isn't a problem for you (or this site), do tell me!
Once again, enjoy!
Chapter Forty-Nine: Flight
Sweat dripped from Bakura's brow and was quickly wiped away before it intruded into his questing eye. Even though the summer heat had left them long ago, the sun still managed to beat against his back, and he fought against the urge to fling off his sweater as he focused on the item in his hand. He gently brushed caked dirt from the crevasses with the edge of a toothbrush he had found, just until he was able to find the appropriate seam. Dropping his tool for a screwdriver, he cracked open the panel the rest of the way to the wiring beneath. A ghost of a smile graced his face when he found the boarding that he had been tasked to find. His job was complete.
He stood, holding the delicate but somehow still intact piece of copper tracks, then turned his attention to the surrounding area. The site contained a wreckage of a unit he would have had no clue as to its origins if he had not been made aware prior. The very area he worked upon once had been sealed within a building of great fortitude, an impressive bit of practical architecture up to the time it had been blown to pieces with a carpeting of bombs. The very fact that anything survived as even half a structure amazed him. When he had first arrived, it had looked nothing more than barren remains. At least until he started digging. Thankfully, this third location had proven not to be a waste of time, unlike the others. He delicately placed the necessary piece into the supplied carrying case and put his tools away.
Glancing back down at his dig site, Bakura wondered if this was how his father had felt while he excavated the ruins of ancient civilizations. In a way, was that not what he was doing, right now? Gathering remnants of the past for an eccentric collector?
The biggest difference was that he had lived in the time before its demise—and the collector planned on making use of the old technology they were looking for.
Having fallen into a nostalgic mood, Bakura finished packing up and clambered up the side of caved in street. He hoisted himself up with a grunt, trying his best to ignore the nauseating scent that invaded the air. To his left lay proof of the dangers Ms. Lupei had cautioned him on, a bitter battle that he had faced three days prior, alone on his preliminary scouting of the area. Although he had tried to end the violence before it started, the group of men had not been interested in listening. They seemed to be on something (although what drug would be available in this day and age Bakura did not know) and had hardly let him state that he was a friendly before they set upon him. Perhaps he looked like an easy target, which he would have been—if they had caught him alone years ago. Now, it did not even require him to call upon Diabound to settle the matter; and settle it he did, even if he detested every second of it.
If he found the time between now and their impending departure, he would be certain they all received a decent burial. It was the least he could do.
Nighttime still hours away, Bakura followed a previously duplicated map as he pedaled to the well-secured airfield. He had plenty of time before he could share his findings with his current employer, so a trip to see how some of his aerial-inclined comrades were fairing seemed in order. Everyone else city-wise was already accounted for. Mai and Anzu were off completing some task deemed necessary and bolstering goodwill at the same time, with Yugi monitoring his child for the day. Etsu was the latest to catch the ever roaming cold, even with their best efforts to guard against it, but she was also flourishing in an environment better suited to help her grow. D, Claire, and Amami were already signed up for before and after school activities, something Bakura had never considered a possibility again, so their days were full until nighttime. He was not sure what Amami had chosen, but Claire had been clear in her interest in martial arts and music. D had followed her in her martial arts training but had chosen fencing instead as his second choice of activity.
"Where else am I going to learn something like fencing? It's something I probably should know," D had said, ever the pragmatist. "I can learn music on my own."
That had started a light spat between the two children, but such was the pattern of their friendship.
Jessica was helping in the hospital, Aoki was performing as a substitute at the school, and Kay and Lewis were busy harvesting the plants that were in season. Albert was apologetically helping Josseline with her duties on the border of the town in payment for getting her sick before. Bakura thought some of that apology was more bound by a want to be near the young woman. They seemed to get along quite well.
Wanatabe fell happily into the business politics of the area, much to the mixture of chagrin and pleasure of the rest of the group, whereas Jounochi and Mokuba remained nearby, on standby, for the day. This allowed them plenty of time to monitor their quiet cargo now that the animals had been gifted to the city as thanks for allowing them to stay. This was well and good, as Mokuba worried that Kaiba would unintentionally figure out where they were if he heard the chattering of others. A situation that could prove fatal if their main aggressor figured out they were near one of his allies.
They held their breaths every day, the balance one of precarity, like wary prey with one paw wavering at the center of a beartrap. They could not afford to accidentally add pressure as they made their leap across the ocean. For it would not just be one head on the line, but all.
No doubt the predator stalking them in the rushes was hungry.
"Yo, Dream Eater," Theo called, acting as a sentry for the day. Bakura used his feet to stop himself and offered him and his partner for the day a wave. The other sentry, not one of their own, offered a nod of his head. "Any good news?"
"The best kind," he said in return. "Our end of the bargain has already been upheld."
"Shit, already?" the other guard exclaimed. "Congratulations, you guys. I heard that you were asked to do some heavy lifting for us."
"Heavy lifting, huh," Theo repeated with a chuckle. "As if his scrawny arms could lift more than fifty pounds."
"I am terribly hurt by those words," Bakura joked, resting his bike on the fence. "I thought you knew me—they can only lift twenty-five."
Laughing at the absurd statement, the pair allowed him into the main area, one swarming with more people than it had seen in years. The news of their project had caught the interest of residents and nearby out-of-towners alike. Some were interested in setting up the airport for future use, seeing it as a worthy investment, whereas others (mostly non-residents) were devoting their time to the venture to join the leaving group in the end. Any assistance was welcomed, and made the idea of flight less prone to be questioned. Adventuring could be seen as just another human thing done even in the harshest of times.
Bakura spotted Zoe reviewing the different types of planes with her mechanic peers and continuing the debate on which one they would choose as their main focus for the flight ahead based on fuel tank size and ease of maintenance. One individual was jokingly pointing to the area where the waste tanks were situated and received a half-hearted swing at their person for it.
Bakura, not wanting to distract her further, gave her a wave, which was quickly returned. He continued on, weaving past two bands of onlookers that were clogging the runways.
Graham was nowhere to be seen, but based on his latest musings, he was probably trying to figure out how to get the communications tower back in order. While it would do little good for the ones departing in the near future, he was earnestly trying to bring something he loved back to life. Aware of their benefactor, regardless of their benefactor, he had said in a brief meeting of their party alone—
"They think they'll own the earth by the time they're through. But they forget we don't bow down easily. This is going to be our success; gonna have human hands all over it. Our time isn't over."
After Graham's impassioned speech, Bakura had wondered why anyone's time should have been over. His past fascinations with the occult and his new studies had brought forth a variety of conflicting emotions. Once again, Bakura had questioned just how against vampires he would have been if the bulk had not chosen the stance they had taken. If he had not seen such horrors be made with the clinical misrepresentation of science and the excuse of furthered progression.
He entered the main building and followed the signs to the concession area.
The cleanup inside was going well, although no one seemed to roam these halls today aside from himself. He liked to think that with time the corridors would be full again and that the madness that had overtaken the bulk of the land would be lifted. He picked up a postcard that had not fallen from its holder and smiled at the image of a city known for its grandeur. He did not turn to look out of the window to see what it had become. While it was a vast improvement on the rest of the cities and towns out there, it still failed to meet the expectations of the picture. He set it down.
"Sorry, we're closed for today. Come back in about a month, and we might just be twenty-four hours again."
Bakura turned and offered a tender, hidden, smile to the man who leaned against a wall that once had been a part of what he thought had been a coffee shop. This whole place had been thrashed by those originally present when the worst had come upon them. Even then, those survivors had been lucky. All of the other surrounding airports had been destroyed. Thankfully, the luck of this airport seemed to continue, and in time, what sort of looked like the remnants of a coffee shop would become one. Or so he hoped.
"Sold out?" Bakura asked, crossing his arms. Simon chuckled as he sauntered toward him.
"Yeah, sorry. Our shipment is about four years late."
"What a shame," Bakura lamented. "Must be terrible for business."
"Just god awful."
"Are you going on break soon?" Bakura asked, resting his head against the other's shoulder after being pulled into a hug. "I've got something I want to discuss with you."
"I don't like the way you said that," Simon murmured into his hair. "Is it something bad?"
"No?"
"Jesus Christ! Don't say it so seriously then!"
"Sorry." Bakura turned his attention to the scene beyond the window. Clouds were sliding in from the east, low enough to promise the first decent rain of the season. "I just want to go home."
"Are you okay? I told you that you should still be resting. Those assholes did a number on you when they…You shouldn't have gone today."
"Or the day before, or the day before that, right?" Bakura added with a softened gaze. "I'm fine. Didn't even have a headache today. I just…worded that wrong. I'm not sure what I meant by that."
"Still—"
"Spend your free time with me today, why don't you?"
"Really? Are you sure that you don't want to hang out with Jounochi and Mokuba?" he asked, the hidden meaning clear to the other. "Or maybe help Yugi out and wait for the others—"
"Vampires have a strange fascination with purity," Bakura interjected. "There is a theory out there that there's some hormonal shift in a body once someone is considered impure, but that leaves a lot of questions on what that means."
"What? What does that have to do with anything?"
"What I'm saying is I want to talk to you and spend time with you. You told me to relax; I'm asking you to hang out and read some of what I've studied so far and compare it to what you know and what I got from it. I also want to get this stupid mask off my face."
"But you look sooo cool," Simon snickered. "So says Scope and you know how she feels about 'cool' shit. Fine, I'm game. What do you think the answer is, then? To the purity of blood?"
"Definitely a mix of things," Bakura started excitedly, now dragging Simon along. He pulled so hard as they started down the unmoving elevator stairs that the man nearly fell forward. Bakura let out a stifled laugh and righted him before continuing. "Although, there are more questions I have than answers. There's taste involved. They say it's sweeter—I would have thought someone who has a higher blood sugar count might be considered sweeter, though. Youth is an obvious factor, especially when you compare it to some human's interest in foods like veal. But what signifies "pure" blood? If it's virginal, is it based on the modern usage of the term or on an older meaning? Is it based solely on the lack of sex or just the fact that they don't 'belong' to anyone? Youth does not always denote this. If it is the more modern iteration, part of it may actually have to do with blood health. Someone with a partner, unless tested, might be caught with an unfortunate ailment. The vampire would not want to catch this, and therefore would prefer relatively untampered blood. That would be a logical assumption. But then what about that hormonal shift? How or what in the body understands the morality of pure and impure? That might just serve as an excuse for the less palatable 'because of disease' answer. The next part may be due to the thrill of the chase."
"The thrill of the chase?"
"Just like some people become more interested sexually when meeting a virgin because of societal expectations, and based on what we've all read before, vampires might take pleasure in the act of taking. First."
"Why do I feel that this is a dig at someone in particular?"
"No idea what you're talking about SB," Bakura replied innocently.
"None?"
"Nope."
"At all?"
"A shovel couldn't do the digging as well as you can."
Simon rolled his eyes and allowed Bakura to guide him down the rest of the stairs.
"But that act of taking…" Bakura continued, completely engrossed on the topic. "Wouldn't that act as a way of making them 'impure'? And if that's the case, is it more akin to how food tastes better when you don't have to pay for it?"
"I could go for some food," Simon muttered.
"Yeah? What are you in the mood for?"
"The impossible," Simon lamented. "Fast food. Hey, why don't you just ask—you know—about this? Wouldn't they know?"
"Nobody doesn't know," Bakura said, shaking his head. "In fact, there's more learning going on regarding said 'condition'. It was simply taken as fact."
They ended up back at the apartment complex and spent most of the hour perusing the tomes that Ms. Lupei had allowed Bakura to borrow. Each coming from different backgrounds, they had their own spin on how the works were written, opinions on the accuracy of the text, and held a lengthy debate on the applications of the text based on conflicting beliefs.
Essentially, they were "nerding out".
"I can't agree with this," Bakura said, slapping the page of a comparative text. "It completely missing the point they brought up about allergic reactions."
"But it does account for the issue of holy water."
"With more of the same "because they're evil". This one was written by a human, too. Wouldn't the credibility of a vampire count for something when discussing their own bodily make-up?"
"The human one is more modern, and the vampire could be lying. It sounds too scientific."
"Scientific or not, we can't assume 'vampires are evil' is the answer for everything. I've dealt with them more than I cared to, and even I can't get behind that, entirely."
"Crosses do work though, so something spiritual does affect them."
"Yes, but why?"
"Why does it matter if it works?"
"What about other holy iconography, from different religions?"
"I've never heard of a Taiji stopping a vampire from coming near someone."
"But has anyone else tried something else?"
"Never heard of anything other than…stakes and shit, but again, what's the point if what we have works?"
"Because if you can find the root of it, you can forgo the—"
"Why are you getting so worked up over this?"
"Because Nobody isn't evil!"
Simon blinked in surprise. Bakura was glaring at him, practically ready to pounce. As if just realizing his choice of actions, the young man flopped back onto his seat on the tall kitchen stool, his jaw still tightened in a sharp line. His mask lay near him, a leather contraption that covered his face and "bad eye". Another gift from Ms. Lupei.
"Okay, okay. Calm down. We know that. We know Nobody isn't evil."
Bakura snapped the book closed and tossed it on the counter. "I'm done with this for today."
"Already? We were going to go through the other chapter."
"I'm not feeling it," Bakura grumbled.
"No, you aren't," Simon agreed. "You are in a mood today."
"Thanks to this," he waved a hand over the book he now glared daggers at. "People, no matter who or what they are, aren't born inherently bad. That book says otherwise. It completely ignores what changes people! What's the reason for their change? What is their story? What are their regrets in life? What keeps spirits tethered and gives the supernatural their powers? Sure, we can judge actions, but does that mean that just because they are of the proverbial dark, they can't aid or benefit from the light? And why is the 'light' so much better? We are just supposed to accept that just because they are born from the 'dark' there is no good in them?"
"That's more of a philosophical question, I think. Well…philosophical questions."
"Ugh!" Bakura threw his hands up and began pacing around the kitchen. "This isn't the first time I've thought of them, either. I…" he paused and touched his chest where his dotted scars lay. "They are our enemy, I know this—"
"But you're starting to feel bad, huh."
"Not for all of them."
"No," Simon said, nodding. "But for enough. Unfortunately, regardless of who they were before—like your friend—or who they are, like Lupei…they aren't going to give you the same allowances that you would, since they follow that guy. And it's pretty clear what they're trying to do."
"I hate him," Bakura growled, balling his fists. Then his shoulders fell, and his eyes began to water. "It didn't have to be this way—even if in the beginning the falling apart came from our governments' ineptitude. He could have made things different, especially if he had so many backing him. He didn't have to do this, to anyone. I just want everyone to live their lives and be happy. Is that so much to ask?"
Simon chuckled softly and wrapped an arm around him in a soothing gesture. "When has the world ever been so kind?"
Bakura burned with the injustice of it all for the rest of the day.
Later, after wishing everyone a good night, he made his way to the entrance of Ms. Lupei's offices. Pressing the illuminated elevator button, Bakura watched the wavering in his peripheral and felt a deep sadness. He gave Diabound a wave, and it camouflaged further, ever at the ready. The hope was that they would uphold their end of the bargain. Unfortunately, there was always a chance that she had somehow found out. That Otogi somehow recognized him, even with the mask.
He touched the leather fixture and tried to convince himself she would not waste material on him if there was even a hint of duplicity on his side. However, there was another possible trap: the chance she was trying to get them used to sticking around, so that they would not leave. That had been his original concern, and it had not left him. A happy person…a willing donor.
There was that blood donation station in the hospital that always seemed to be low. What would happen if that ran dry?
Bakura shook his head to clear his mind. Violence was not the way he wanted to interact with the world. Now that he had the time, the freedom really, to think on things other than survival, he could not help but be disgusted with himself. He had never intended to become someone that did not hesitate in killing those in his way, a person unintentionally feared when the unfamiliar populace looked him in the eye. Nor had he ever wished to distrust every action a person took regarding him and his own.
'Regret, but move on,' he thought to himself. 'Regret, but move on.'
There was a point to this madness, and it was getting those he cared about to safety. He was not killing for pleasure, unlike his enemies. He was not destroying what they had built, either. He was just creating some insurance. And he kept his word.
Something his employer was very pleased with.
"She said she would be up shortly to thank you in person," Otogi expressed, speaking to him once again in her little personal library. He offered Bakura a cup of tea. "She's just feeling out of it today. 'A little out of sorts' as she put it."
"Probably better for her to rest," Bakura replied. "She does enough for everyone."
"You could say that," Otogi chuckled. "So, I'm supposed to entertain you until she gets here. I'm unfortunately not interested in the books you seem so fascinated by, but maybe I can interest you in a game?"
"What kind of game?" Bakura asked, taking a sip of the drink. He had come to trust that the drinks provided were not tampered with. Its warmth relaxed him.
"Well, unfortunately it wasn't like, my favorite, but it is a good game."
"What's your favorite game?" Bakura questioned, thankful he did not have to hide his smile. Someone was practically begging to talk about something.
"Dungeon Dice Monsters," Otogi said, and then launched into a very descriptive explanation of the rules and how the game was played. Bakura sat and listened quietly. He was familiar with it, but not to the extent he went on about it. There was no need to feign interest in the end, not with that enthusiasm, and it was clear no one had bothered to ask him about such a thing. Not for the first time, Bakura wondered how Otogi had even managed to come to the position he was in.
"So why don't we play that game, then?"
"Because I don't have the necessary pieces," Otogi lamented.
"How is that possible?" Bakura asked, surprised. "Couldn't she have sent someone out to find it? It must have been in some game store. It was popular, right?"
"It's not cost effective to go and find them," Otogi mimicked, pitching his voice high. "We have better things to do. I get that. It would just be nice to have a little bit of home with me."
"I know," Bakura said, and receiving a curious look from the man quickly followed with, "If I had been able to, I would have brought a picture with me or something."
"Huh. Why didn't you?"
"No time," he said, shaking his head. "People freaked out and rioted, so half of the city burned down. We all just made it out with the necessities and were grateful for that fact."
"That sucks."
"Yeah. Anyway, that's just gloomy talk. What's the other game about?"
Otogi grinned. "Oh, it's just a little card game called Duel Monsters."
"I've heard of it," Bakura said, carefully choosing his words. "Sort of hard not to when it was one of the popular card games. I…can't say I've played, though."
"You willing to learn? She said she was going to be a while."
With a shrug, Bakura tilted back in his chair. "You've got the cards?"
"That, we have an abundance of. I'll help you make a deck."
And an abundance of them they did have. Bakura knew it would be impossible to play today, not with how painstakingly slow he was making the process, but it was nice to hear his friend's voice. It was nice to feel like things were normal, and that he was not being hunted.
"I had a bunch of friends who were into this game," Otogi said, gazing nostalgically at a Time Wizard. "They even played in tournaments."
"That's cool," Bakura murmured, hoping he gave the appropriate levity to the response. As he perused the cards, he was disappointed that they did not have many of the ones he preferred to use. Then again, it did help him create a new deck that did not scream "Bakura Ryou" at the top of its lungs. If it worked with the Diabound card that always seemed to show up when he thought it was missing, then so be it. No one had ever seen him use it anyway. "So, they were really into it?"
"Like it was life or death." Otogi pulled out a Kuriboh card and waved it his way. "Want to add this to the deck?"
"No, that's—" For Yugi's deck, he wanted to say, but caught himself in time. Instead, he said, "a really weak looking one."
"Hey, sometimes weak cards have a purpose."
"Can I ask you something a little unpleasant?" Bakura asked, aiming to change the subject.
"Shoot."
"How did you end up like," he pointed to the sides of his mask to signify the fangs, "that?"
"Wow, super sensitive about it, aren't you?"
"Have I ever been 'super' sensitive?"
"Guess not," Otogi said with an amused shake of his head. "You really want to know?"
"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't."
"It wasn't really my choice," he stared, and his face fell. "It was sort of, 'Die like your father did, or don't. It's your choice if you waste your life.' And then she of course pulled what I know she did to you, sort of defeating the purpose of offering the choice, and I've been working with her since. I don't want to say she's awful—because she's not—I'm just not keen on calling anyone 'Master'.
"It wasn't like I thought I was ever going to see anyone I knew again, so I figured sticking around would be better than wandering out there, figuring out how to live like this alone. But hey! If you guys actually do this and can create a better connection on the other side, I might just be able to go back…see if anyone made it."
"Create a better connection?"
"Come on. You know that she has the ability to talk overseas, right? It's how she got the intel on those people that we are supposed to be watching out for. It's just that, there are a few places that either forgot to flip their switches or something, or need some help resetting their connection. She can't always get her news or orders from that guy she calls 'The Great One'."
"Have you ever met him? Spoken with him?" Bakura tried to hide the nervous shake he could feel his voice attempting. Of course. The thing he found would help her in the now. The things they were doing would help her in the future. All of it would help him. He knew this was not going to be easy. They just needed to find a place to rest. To prepare.
"What? Hell no. Nor would I want to. I've heard him pissed; I don't want to have any part in that. I just want to do what Amelia asks me to, live my life, and eventually find out what happened to the people I care about…well, most of them."
"Most of them?"
"Between you and me," Otogi began motioning for him to come forward. "I hope you never find those people that took that kid."
"That's a hell of a thing to say!" Bakura whispered, hoping against hope that he would say what he wished he would.
"Listen, I haven't said shit, because I know how to keep my mouth shut…but I know that guy. I know the name Bakura Ryou, and save for a few descriptions, the others fit him to a T. He was one of my friends. He was a real weirdo, super into occult stuff, obsessive over his TRPGs, but super sweet. He had a bad run in with…anyway, that doesn't matter. What matters is, if he's doing something crazy like kidnapping a kid, there's a reason. And if my friend doesn't trust my boss' boss, neither do I."
It could have been a trap. It could have been a lot of terrible things, but the sincerity in Otogi's voice nearly brought him to tears. To think he had been ready to give up on him not long ago!
"That's really…something," he stumbled over his words, unable to voice the gratitude he felt. "Hey…if she wants to create better communications, wouldn't it make sense that she sends some of her people with us? Maybe you could come with us, and we could eventually get you back home."
"You're going to take me to Japan?" Otogi asked incredulously.
"You never know," Bakura laughed, and he hated how high and unstable it sounded. "I've always wanted to see what it looks like."
"I doubt it looks the same."
"I doubt a lot looks the same," Bakura countered.
Otogi appeared speechless for the first time since he had met him again. "I…I guess. I don't know. We'll see."
"We'll see?"
"Have to ask the boss and all that," he said, and with an eyebrow raised he turned his head to the other door. Bakura followed his gaze unsure of what he was waiting for. His friend's face curled in annoyance before he continued their conversation. "I've gotta ask, how did you manage to fight off her 'charms'?"
"Uh," Bakura fumbled for an answer. "I guess I really just don't like women that way?"
Otogi laughed. "Oh, is that all? So, you mean to tell me, if I were to attempt it…" he turned, flashing his most disarming smile as he caught Bakura's gaze. "You'd fall under it easier?"
He had known Otogi long enough to know that the man valued his appearance, and that they had both had some of the same girls in their respective, yet odd, fan-clubs. He also knew, even as he swallowed hard and proceeded to fight against the psychic pull, that he had never particularly been attracted to his friend, either. Yet still, such a thing was a difficult fight, and even more so to try and bullshit his way into a logical reason for why this attempt failed.
"Maybe it's because you don't really want to bite me?" Bakura hypothesized, taking a step back. The dark-haired man felt too close for comfort.
"I hunger for it like the rest of them," Otogi replied, edging closer, defeating the purpose of his backpedaling. "If anything, I am worse at stopping myself since I'm still getting used to managing my needs. How would you stop me from draining you if I came along? Try again."
"I think you just answered it," Bakura stated confidently, aiming to push him away if necessary. There hardly were a few feet between them. "You might be too new at it. Anyway, I'm sure a friend or two of mine wouldn't mind helping out by donating their blood once in a while."
"Seriously," Otogi complained, and Bakura practically gasped in relief as the other dropped his attempt. "How can you be so calm about this?"
"She was scarier."
"That's it?"
"No, no, no. My turn," Bakura chided. "Did she put you up to this?"
"Sort of," Otogi admitted, twirling a strand of his hair. "She didn't want me to actually do it; I'm not 'strong enough' to actually do anything but make a thrall, but she wanted to see if your previous excuse held water."
"If anything, you made my heart beat faster…" Bakura said with a cautious chuckle, unable to come up with anything better.
"I'm sure she'll be so happy to hear that," he replied sarcastically. Otogi turned his head back to the door and added, "Speak of the devil."
"Do not be so cruel, dear boy," Ms. Lupei said, her flashing grin less of a warning and more of true amusement. "If you did not finish with your game, that is not my issue. I told you an estimated time to expect my arrival."
"We didn't get very far," Otogi explained to a disinterested ear.
"At least I have a deck?" Bakura stated, raising it up. "Next time, show me how it's done."
"Fantastic," Ms. Lupei said, sliding into her seat with the grace of a dancer. "Now let us return to our business at hand. It is high time I think we drop the formalities on my end. You may call me Amelia. Truly, I applaud you in completing what I heard had been quite the arduous trip. I had warned you about such a possibility, but it is with great joy I see you here well and able."
"I keep my word."
"As do I," Amelia swore with a wave of her hand. "You will receive the materials you need."
"Provided we complete one more stipulation."
"Ah. He introduced that idea to you, then?"
"He did," Bakura said with a tilt of his head, the closest thing he could express to denote his enclosed smile. "I don't see us having an issue with it; I just have one more, personal, request. You see, I feel like in this short time Ryuji and I have gotten pretty close…"
The red numbers of Simon's digital clock flickered to three in the morning at the same time he bolted from his sleep, a gasp half-inhaled and burning in his chest. In the darkness, a figure stood silhouetted by the light of the streetlamps, punctuated by the dim lines of the blinds. Alarmed, he snatched the wooden bat resting by his bed. He wondered if Zoe or Graham would hear them from their respective rooms if he screamed. He doubted it.
Even though he had leapt to the ready, the shadowed individual remained still, either not realizing he had noticed it, or too wrapped up in some unknown plan to care. He used this time to steady his stance, not once taking his attention off what only remained outlined. A shuddery breath seemed to echo in the room, and Simon's memory abruptly sent his thoughts to the worst imaginable place. Goosebumps ran up his arms, and he told himself the sudden chill in the air was of his own imagination.
"Get out of here," he threatened, trying to appear calm. His mind was rattling off the emergency exits that he had assessed on their first day, after learning about what type of person they were dealing with. All the supernatural had been so much fun to read about until they had become a true threat. It had left him a new appreciation for his faith, though, yet for all that was worth when he constantly turned to physical violence to solve his issues. "Get out before I make you wish you had."
"Shhhh," the voice attempted to pacify. The shadowed individual came closer, and even though Simon wished to hurry and flick on his lamp light, he did not think his hands would be quick enough to handle that and take a swing. Also, there was a strange bulk on their right side that he could not judge as a weapon or not. "Stop it. You don't need to—"
"Who the hell are you?" he asked, pointing the bat straight at the voice. It paused, as if surprised, then chuckled and moved the end of his weapon aside.
"It isn't a sword, dummy," they replied, and their voice became more familiar as their mood—formerly difficult to assess as their expression remained unseen—lightened. "Even if you hit me with a jab, from this distance I'd probably only bruise."
"Bakura?!" Simon exclaimed. "What the hell—"
"Lower your voice!" the other snapped. "Especially when you're using that name."
"Shit, sorry." Simon sat back down, replacing the bat in its resting place. Exhausted, he rubbed at his face. "Why the fuck didn't you turn on the light or something."
"I didn't want to wake you up," Bakura replied, taking a seat next to the man, the springs creaking as he did. As his eyes further adjusted, Simon realized that the circles under the other's eyes were more pronounced than he recalled. Though, listening to the way he spoke, fatigue could not have been the only cause.
"So, you just wanted to stare at me awkwardly as I slept?" Simon asked, eyeing him incredulously.
"No," came the reply. It was followed by a tired laugh, one with little humor behind it. "I've messed up, Simon. I should have asked you all before I did it, but I did it anyway. I'm sorry I didn't wait to talk it over."
"What did you do?"
"Invited Otogi to come with us."
"What?" Disbelief filled him. "…Didn't you say he was a fucking vampire now?"
"Yeah."
"One," Simon said raising a finger and staring hard at Bakura, who only passively looked back, "what the fuck? Two. How the fuck are we going to board a guy who can only come out at night without alerting anyone? Three. What the fuck is he going to eat?"
"The last two are easy enough. Amelia said she would handle the bulk of that. As he's our friend, I'm sure we could persuade him with something else, a better option, unless we were all willing to pitch in—"
"Was your friend," Simon pointed out. "You two are little more than close acquaintances, or office buddies with this Dream Eater shit you're doing. And who is 'Amelia'?"
"Ms. Lupei. She said I was allowed to use her first name," he said, waving him off. "Another thing. She said to finalize our deal she wanted our help in reestablishing her connection to one of her allies nearest to where we land."
"That wasn't what she told you guys before."
"No, it wasn't," Bakura agreed. "But, even without my request for Otogi to come along, it would have been a necessary addition. She still sees everything here as hers, you know."
"'s bullshit."
"Don't I know it," he said, empathizing with Simon's outburst. "But…I did receive one more 'gift'."
"What I assume was supposed to sound good is coming off as godawful."
"I don't think she knows just what she gave me," Bakura said. Simon flicked on the light and almost jumped back in alarm. The young man's skin appeared nearly drained of all color, his closed eyes a warning sign that set Simon's heart racing, making him sick with worry. His breath seemed caught in his chest, and he reached out to cautiously touch the other's shoulder. Only when he saw those eyes open to their familiar brown did he let out a relieved sigh. He then followed where Bakura's eyes were fixated.
"She asked me to double down on a promise I made before, before allowing me to take my pick from her prized literature. I swore that if I ever saw the person who ruined her 'young master's' childhood—in the inevitable leaving of her employ—I'd make them suffer terribly before ending their life. No questions. No discussions," Bakura said, a terrible grin spreading across his face. "It isn't like I lied; he ruined his childhood, not me. But double meanings can still get one in trouble."
"That's not what's freaking you out, though. Is it?"
The book that rested in his bloodless hands appeared as harmless as the useless phonebook resting on the hallway desk. Yet, even Simon felt the aura of something off, a little nagging warning bell at the back of his mind. The unidentifiable leather was lined with strange and ancient patterns in gold with a clasp that held the whole thing closed. A gold and stylized eye seemed to watch them from the center top of the book lay as a final touch. It was strangely beautiful and unspeakably gruesome.
"No," Bakura murmured, staring at the horrific text before him. "But I am terrified."
Simon grabbed his glasses and leaned forward for a better look. "What is it, exactly?"
"I don't know its name. Following the naming process, it's probably the Millennium Tome, or Book, or Script, or Spellbook; something like that."
"What does this mean?"
"Bad news."
'I'm holding the thing that set things in motion and killed my family,' he thought, feeling sick. He then forced himself to clarify for his sanity, 'Past family.'
"How did she even obtain something like this?"
Bakura shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. It never does. However, her story is that she traded for it with one of her close friends who had a passing fancy in the history of Ancient Egypt because she was drawn to it. She likes to collect oddities in her free time and felt like this was not something for humans to have. 'They would fail to provide proper appreciation and allow for its decay'. Supposedly her friend did business from time to time with curators…wonder if my father ever met them…"
"That's fascinating and all, but can we stick to the subject?"
"That's it. I legitimately don't think she knows even what it's called. Just that it was a book that predated many Egyptian dynasties and seemed important."
"Why is she letting you—a human—take it then?"
"In the end, they're just pictures to her," Bakura said with a laugh. "She also said it felt right to give it to me, since she had forgotten it was on her shelf. High time she 'moved on to some other new curio'. Her words, not mine."
Simon sighed. He stood up and walked around the room in thought. "You guys have dealt with this before, right?"
Bakura's expression soured. "We've dealt with the Items; things made by this. And that was only one possible spell provided in this thing. It does have more."
"How do you know that? And why do you think it's showing up again?"
"I'm not sure, on both accounts. It's not like I can read it. It might have fallen into my lap because of what I'm suddenly able to do. Maybe? What the self-proclaimed 'dead weight' can do?" He lifted the book high enough to see the bumps in the leather and grimaced. "To be honest I don't want it."
"Then why did you take it?"
"Because of what it could do in the wrong hands," Bakura replied, before setting it on the end table. "It took seven days for it…ninety-nine people were slaughtered…their blood, bone, and skin mixed with melted gold to make those Items…" He let his head fall into his hands, his eyes staring through his fingers as they watched a scene not there. His voice cracked and rose into hysterics as he relayed, "That smell. It wouldn't go away. The stains wouldn't go away. I watched them, I saw them, they…they…"
"Woah, hey, hey!" Simon shouted, shaking Bakura by the shoulders. "Pull it together. What are you talking about?"
"I can't. I can't do anything because there's so many. No one was ready. Why did they do this? Why did they pick us?" Bakura released his hold on his face and clung to the other man, squeezing his eyes shut. "I have to hide…I…I…I…"
Simon could do little more than hold the frantic man close as his panicked words faded into mumbles and shaky breathing. He recalled the man's story and many of the stranger details such as having been possessed. Never, though, had he ever mentioned anything like this. Nor had he ever broken down in such a way before him. The man did not know if it was a sign of trust, or something to worry about. Regardless, he remained there, as available as he could be.
A few minutes later, it seemed Bakura had calmed down. "I hate this," Bakura murmured into his shoulder.
"What was that all about?"
"It's…a new thing. I get vivid flashes of memories that are mine, but aren't—it's confusing, and stupid. It's especially irritating when I have to sort out my own memories with my past self's."
"You mean to say you can remember what your past self experienced? How?"
Bakura nodded before curling into the other's comforting embrace. His mind had been whirling since touching the book, unaided by an already precarious balance he was trying to uphold. "I'm sorry for putting any of this on you. I know I should be able to figure this out on my own—"
"On your own? How the hell?!"
"—But there's just been so much going on, I can't take holding it in anymore. So much that I though was set in stone or settled isn't at all. First this book, then things that I've learned about vampires that I never even supposed; things that Amelia has shared with me regarding just how things fell apart, and how little anyone save for two or three major players could have done anything to fix it. But, why would they help those who would kill them without learning more about them? Could I say that I would be any different? Am I any different?
"Even then, I can't argue it is a valid excuse to let things just rot away, just so they can pick out the pieces they like and warp reality to their liking. All of it is making me sick of people, sick of vampires, sick of everyone, and I don't want to fall into that same hateful trap that I—some of me—did in the past.
"Then there's D. He's had such a low opinion of himself. He thinks he's a monster! And he's not! I'm so afraid that I instilled that into him somehow. That just because I hate his father means I somehow hate what he is, and no matter what I say, I feel there's no way to change that."
"Why not?"
"Because of people, Simon. Humans. Only a rare few who have known him exactly for what he is have shown him kindness in the knowing. For his safety, I thought if he acted 'normal'…but I think he might have misconstrued my meaning, and…on top of that…I think I've done something awful."
Tears streamed down Bakura's cheeks, falling in heavy droplets onto Simon's shirt. Simon watched him warily, unsure of how he would feel hearing this new terrible thing that would cause Bakura to now sob uncontrollably in his arms. He was already cautious by this sudden sympathy for their aggressors. There was no way he could be that forgiving.
Between a heaving breath he wept, "I think he's somehow wrapped up in all of this, and it might be my fault."
"Wrapped up in all of what?"
Bakura's hand hovered over his chest, as if searching for something, before he pointed to the book. "He says he has dreams of shadowy creatures that speak to him, and that have the ability to attack him. From his descriptions, I don't think he's dreaming—and I think they could kill him. I think through me he somehow has been exposed to the power of the items."
"But how? Is that even possible without them?"
"I don't know!" Bakura snarled, and with this release of emotion his irritation seemed to calm his grief. "Do you think if I did, I'd be talking about it?"
"No…probably not."
Bakura pulled back and wiped aggressively at his eyes, his anger turned upon himself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I shouldn't have acted like this in the first place. But even still…I have one more thing to ask of you."
Simon, still reeling from Bakura's previous words, felt a wave of impotence in the wake of this request. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, his own helplessness in the situation leaking into his words. What could he do? Everything that the other railed off just seemed another absurdity to add to the pile. It was no wonder Bakura bottled it up. How could anyone provide an answer that was worthy of uttering?
"Just, I don't know, talk to me about anything other than that," he tore his eyes away to look at the unmoving text. "Sing. Play a game with me—anything. Just until I can fall asleep."
"That's all?"
"That's all. I'll feel better after getting some rest. Maybe even come up with an answer for one of my problems myself. Hopefully."
Such a thing was possible for Simon to do, and eventually, they unwound enough to fall asleep. At five forty in the morning, a full two hours after he had begun what was best called a glorified nap, Bakura was up again, and thanking Simon for the diversion while apologizing for his sudden panic. Simon, his mind still hazy from the lack of proper rest still managed to realize just how sleep deprived the other man was, and the compounding effect it was no doubt having on him. As he watched the other slip quietly out of his bedroom, he sighed in quiet frustration. Bakura needed to take better care of himself.
He did not wallow in this foul mood for long, though. As he began to dress himself for the day, Simon's mind wound through the night's pleasantries like one does when a good song is on. He hummed a tune, letting his socked feet slide against the faux tile in the bathroom, the humidity of the recent shower clinging to the air even as the condensation had all but passed on the mirror itself. Grabbing his toothbrush, he noted the spare he had requested had been opened and used. Feeling an unfamiliar but pleasant emotion bubble up inside him, he pinched the inside of his arm until he flinched, wondering if he had somehow fallen into a vivid nightmare gone to dream. It left him standing alone in the apartment bathroom with a throbbing arm, and still the memories persisted. Simon chuckled to himself and rubbed at the reddened spot where a bruise would form. He did not move the toothbrush from its new resting place.
He hoped Bakura would visit again.
October 31, 2004
Keeping short. Been busy. No "dreams" as of yet. Dressing up for festival. Big deal here. Wanted to remember, but no one can see this. Will write more soon.
November 1, 2004
Still going to be a short entry, but I have more free time, and no one else is around.
It sprinkled this morning; a boon on all those who enjoyed the festivities last night. Not to say I didn't but I think the bulk of everyone out at that time would have been a bit…adverse to it? The good news is that everyone seemed to have a grand time, and no one seemed to get hurt. The bad news is…there are a LOT more vampires around than I had ever thought. I don't know why I thought there would only be one or two here, in a city that once boasted millions and still has the highest numbers we have ever seen. But there you have it.
Amami's dad almost had a fit, but self-preservation won out and he calmed down enough to start having fun by the end of the night. Maybe this was what he needed to start treating everyone with respect again. We shall see.
Thank goodness for Claire's idea. I still don't like some aspects, but others have been a real lifesaver. Literally. They stared at me strangely, but I don't fit the description as much as I normally do, so they left me be. Our group is considered strange, anyway. We're well-liked, but viewed as eccentric. By both humans and vampires, it seems. How odd for the latter, their choice in attire makes them stick out like sore thumbs. Maybe I just have a better sense for these things, but I mean, it's blatant.
They also think that Bakura and Yugi are "scary", especially the kids here. It's sort of funny. The two guys I would say that are the least threatening (under normal conditions), appearing as the most threatening? Hilarious. I'll take my humor where I get it.
To be fair, the vampires that attended seemed…normal? Based on what I've gathered, no one really seems to think they're anything but night owls, and aside from my group I haven't heard the word 'vampire' uttered once since entering the city. Last night they acted just like the others, only carrying their drinks around in plastic canisters. Maybe there's something in it that helps them stave off their bloodlust? Oh, that would be something I would love to know. I'm certain if my father was around it would have been a different story, though. Then again, he threw parties differently, too.
I'm reminded of what Claire said once. That vampires aren't inherently bad. Somewhere inside me, I know this, but it is so hard not to see myself as a monster when I have to worry about accidentally murdering my friends when I get a little hungry. But wouldn't that be something? A time and place where humans and vampires got along, and we all could be happy? I'd like to think that such a thing is more than a childish dream.
Have I thought of this before? I must have.
A lot of the older kids asked me to dance with them last night. It was awkward. I instead chose to dance with a skeleton prop. It made everyone laugh and no one's feelings got hurt. Simplified things all the way around.
It really did make me gain a lot more respect for Mai and Anzu; and honestly anyone else who was hounded in such a way last night. They were also sought after, although the age ranges for their wishful-thinking suitors ran a far wider gamut. I wish that I had seen their graceful bow outs beforehand. I'll catalogue their techniques for another time. I have a bad feeling that this is only going to get worse as I grow older.
I also tried a candy apple. Biting into it was fun. Trying to eat it, not so much.
A certain someone stayed quiet. Thank you.
This was also the first time in a long time I've seen all of the adults smile at least once without forcing it. Maybe real peace among us isn't an impossibility.
This is also not so short an entry…
November 12, 2004
Amami told me today that she was afraid of flying. I told her I would sit next to her. Then Claire began to whine that I was supposed to sit next to her, and Anzu thankfully told everyone that the plane chosen had three seats settled next to each other for each row except for the back. That shut everyone up. So based on logic, I apparently am going to be sitting in the middle. Claire easily won the window seat; Amami wants nothing to do with it.
Regardless, I'm getting antsy. I want to leave before we are made to.
Also, I'm beginning to notice an odd pattern. Bakura is coming home later and later, it seems. Or is it earlier? I could swear that he didn't come home at all last night, but I heard him in the kitchen around 8 making breakfast for us. What he set aside for me tasted wonderful. I'm sure it was for everyone else. He seemed really happy to be making something fresh for us.
The other thing set aside for me was "good", too. I just didn't want to take it. But Bakura is right. The more I have, the less I need to fight the urge. For now.
His friend that he talks about doesn't seem so lucky, though.
November 15, 2004
Arguments have begun in earnest. It would seem that the fuel has arrived. Which is great. However, we have an even split amongst the passengers (not just us) who want to go sooner versus the others who wish to go later. This is not making the woman in charge very happy. I heard Bakura talking to Mokuba about it. He seemed nervous, but when he spoke to me, he appeared happy. It was actually difficult to read his face. I need to practice more.
Speaking of practice, I haven't mentioned that I took up fencing. I know I don't have a rapier or anything, but some practice is better than nothing. I only bring this up because I recently found a small Kendo class that I'm also going to participate in. Am I thinking about blending them to do something entirely my own? Maybe, maybe not. But I have my sword for a reason, and every day I see the people I care about risking themselves for others, the more and more I feel like I cannot just sit by.
I just remembered! Bakura put something new in his bag a few weeks ago. It looked like a book. I wonder what it is…and if we're going to read it together. It's been a while since we did. The last book was one of Claire's choice. It was okay. Just short.
The one in his bag didn't look short.
Oh, he just told Mai he's going to talk to Kaiba. He did tell me that Kaiba has a similar ability to what he has, and they've been working together on strengthening it. That's what he's probably doing at night, now that his job for the leader of this city is over. Ah, a little more information heard "unintentionally". Apparently, Yugi is joining them tonight, too.
Am I eavesdropping? Definitely. Being out of the loop as to what is going on around me is not in any way an interest of mine. Is it the same thing as what Claire likes to do with me? No. Not at all. Not being a hypocrite in the least.
November 20, 2004
I think I'm going to throw up. I'm not certain. Soon, this journal will be packed away and we will be thousands of feet in the sky. There was finally a tipping point in the talks three days ago and everyone agreed that today would be the day! We have survived hiding away in a city that could have ruined everything. Part of me says that something will go wrong, that this is all a calm before the storm, but another part of me just wants to accept it at face value. We did it.
And I'm going to get to fly in an airplane. I'm so excited! Maybe a little too excited though. I really do feel like I must throw up.
This is going to be such a change!
A click brought everyone to attention, and soon echoing through Kaiba's headphones came a voice he had never heard before. A sign of a major change.
"Good afternoon everyone! This is your captain speaking. The weather here is fantastic, if a little chilly, and with luck will be decent in our descent. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
Kaiba grinned to himself, his eyes trained on the screen that promised an inflight movie for the long travel ahead. The voice crackled behind the foamy earpads as it continued.
"For those who I have unfortunately not gotten the chance to meet yet, I'm G, and I am honored to be your pilot for today. I hold 15 years of flying experience under two illustrious companies…former companies—anyway. We all know where they went, don't we?"
"What we are flying in today is a classic—" Kaiba tuned out for a moment, aware that they already played a dangerous game. Even the simple thought that they might not have deserted him and gone elsewhere as their less enthused fourth option had dictated was a struggle to beat down. Maybe they had other planes in flight, or maybe there were other countries who had figured it out first, but a description would hinder their escape, namely his escape of seeming important for a long enough period of time. Although, if they did not…
"My co-pilot here is reminding me you aren't here for a history lesson," G's voice echoed and paused just long enough for Kaiba to hear Yugi chuckle. No, someone who sounded like him. Even with his peripheral vision he would have noticed that expansive, vividly colored hair. He tried hard to keep his mind off the seating arrangement, the décor. It was not familiar as he was used to private jets and custom amenities, but that was just yet another hint. He gripped the sides of his chair hard enough to hear the hard plastic creak.
At that moment he felt Mokuba pat his shoulder, the only one he knew in his heart would never abandon him, and wished he was the one offering support instead. He felt a failure of a big brother; he should have been the one guiding them to the unknown. 15 years of experience or not, Kaiba did not know this man, or the validity of his supposed credentials. Maybe sleeping would be the best option. He freed one hand from its vice-like grip and gave his brother a tap, an expression that he understood what his brother had meant to do and tried to reciprocate the calm emotion.
With no experienced flight attendant aboard to confidently relay the instructions, it was up to this co-pilot, SB, to vocalize what to do in case of an emergency, succeeding in being as descriptive as possible for those who were placed at each emergency exit. He knew some people in the front were mimicking what flight attendants once did based on his words and what probably had been a month worth of memorization, but he did not wish to know who. Kaiba flicked his eyes upward and marveled at the amount of people who had decided to follow this insane endeavor and wondered if some had a death wish. Maybe they all had one.
Something flickered in his peripheral once, a flash of something incorporeal and he was fully of his senses once more. No one else seemed to notice, much to his benefit. Kaiba shook his head, begrudgingly thanking Bakura in the silence of his mind for making him aware of his new ability. It was at least one failsafe to lean on. Although, he still refused to accept it was something bestowed upon him by fate. Yugi could keep that talk to himself, still.
"Don't forget, the movie's free! Pop in those headphones and in about ten minutes we'll get that set up for you. Dinner will be served by those in the front. Thank you again to our volunteers! Now sit back and enjoy the flight!"
The engines whirred as the plane began its path down the runway. The shouts of excited passengers filled the cabin as people on either side turned to watch the scenery pass them by at a gathering speed. Kaiba noticed a trio of children sitting in a few rows ahead of him, on the opposite side, practically crowding one another as they clung to each other in an attempt to see outside. Well, the one closest to the aisle more or less just clung to their curious friend as the purple-haired one next to the window stared out in wide-eyed wonder. He wondered what parents in their right mind would take such a risk as this flight without demanding a seat next to their child. Even he, someone who had experience with maneuvering an aircraft in what many would consider dangerous ways, held a little concern for the fact that there would be no one to call or direct them if something went awry.
In that quick glance, he noticed a passenger behind the children with red hair gossiping about something with an exhausted looking young man beside her. He wore a medical mask, perhaps he was ill? Kaiba hoped not. With the filtering system such as this plane was equipped with, it would pass around quickly. Then again, that whole side seemed to be peppered with people wearing masks of some sort. How bizarre. Prevention maybe?
Other passengers he had seen were huddled forward; their heads bent in prayer. A smattering hollered alongside the continued cries of amazement and elation. A person near the back of the plane wished aloud that they had their Polaroid camera to take pictures of this moment.
Kaiba found himself quietly agreeing. After all the hopelessness he had wallowed in, he did like being reminded that the world had not completely ended. Nor did it even have to mean the end of civilization as he knew it. For this was a significant step in a direction he could agree with. They were not done. He let himself be swept up in the optimistic cries.
This moment of humanity's rebellious hurrah.