Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.

I've been fighting with this chapter (having time to get it completed AND actually tolerating how it was turning out) for so long now. I feel like if I don't post it now, in this brief respite, I won't get a chance to for a long time. To be honest, I feel like I need to bounce this off of someone else before I post it...but I have no one in my usual go-tos who would be even remotely interested. Because of course I just love sticking with my niche ideas.

I am sorry it took so long. Thank you to those who have stuck around to read it.

And as always, enjoy!

Chapter Fifty-One: Outsider

Even before his foot reached the pavement, the familiar smell caught his attention. Regardless of the years of disrepair and abandonment it was unmistakable even under the acrid scent of destruction—the remnants of pollution. But it did not exist alone. A stale aroma of once freshly baked goods. Damp plant matter from a recent rain. The distinctive stench of animals continuing to repopulate the river that encompassed the isle. All surrounded them in their thoughtless fusion, strange to the strangers and the inspiration of sore nostalgia for others. A smirk closer to a grimace formed upon his face. He did not feel the presence, but this knowing was the start of their precarious timer.

Kaiba rested his hand on his brother's shoulder as he stepped aside for the other passengers. While not unused to having to walk blindly thanks to his current position, his legs still had to resituate to the concept of not being dragged about in a quickly rigged sensory-depriving chamber. He looked left and right at the otherwise abandoned airfield. London. A place he had taken many trips for business as CEO for a company he had successfully rebranded. Back then, that had been his life. Now it was all about survival, and the thrill of that game had passed long ago. Surveying what little he could see in the night, he wondered how the people here had managed, if they had.

He watched as some of the masked individuals went ahead to assess the standing buildings, watched as others passed out granola bars for a brief snack, watched as one in a leather jacket passed by to speak to the woman whom the youngest converged around—and came to a realization.

While some of these people he did not recognize, it was impossible not to spot his rival. A wave of begrudging relief washed over him, and he silently applauded Yugi for assessing the situation so accurately. He had distanced himself at just the right pace so Kaiba would question Yugi's loyalty to those he called "friends" and must have been the one to reinforce the idea that his new abilities may be the only thing he could rely on in the future. It was just as well. Kaiba felt that he should, as always, be prepared to care for Mokuba and himself alone.

But if he did not have to, that was a bonus.

He moved to go and greet the man with the tri-colored ponytail, but was stopped by his younger brother, who shook his head.

"Let us fill you in first, okay?" Mokuba said, his lips forming an uncharacteristic thin line of stress. "Don't go saying any names yet, either. It's for the best if we just wait our turn."

"Hmph," Kaiba replied in his usually callous manner and crossed his arms. People milled around him, now becoming curious of the one they had never seen before. It was hard not to notice someone who appeared so imposing. Mokuba gave them all cheerful waves and ushered them with the same hand to the makeshift stations that were being formed. "Enemies?" the elder brother asked in what had hardly been a low hum in his chest.

"You never know," Mokuba replied, still beaming at the throng of disembarking passengers.

Kaiba gave him a curt nod and tried not to shiver as the chill began to settle into his skin. He swore he could feel a fog forming.

As time went on, and as the rest of the crew left the plane, all began to wonder the same thing. Where were the people? The sound of engines should have rocked this quiet place. Save for the ravages of time, not much looked disturbed in what had been a well-used airport; a miracle to say the least. So, if the area around them remained untouched, how was it that the only voices they heard were the sounds of their own?

The eerie emptiness left these newly made adventurers with a sense that something was off. But what?

To answer this, the main group that had originally come up with the wild scheme of flight devised a plan to assess their surroundings. They had no less than one hundred lives under their care, and while the expectation that they would eventually disperse as time went on was high, this did not mean they were interested in shirking the duties they had willingly accepted. While half of the party went to search the innards of the abandoned airport, those on their second sea-crossing held back, moving to unload the cargo. This, at the very least, would assuage the ever-building tension that had wormed its serpentine way into the crowd. The masses waited in partial silence as they stood in the limbo of their situation, distracted only by the ripples philosophizing on whether or not they had made the right choice. The pain of being too close to memories, the unending itch for adventure, the fear of the unseen leader regardless of all the good there had been; all of these were discussed at length in hushed tones as the youngest eavesdropped on what reasons the adults had to leave all they knew behind. The quiet one with dark eyes listened especially close and knew the fear of the unknown had followed them. This danced around topic sat heavy like a stone within him and left an ugly stain upon the positive interactions he had shared with them all.

Much like Bakura, D shared the intangible thought of wanting to go home. Whatever that now meant.

"One, two, three," a soft countdown spilled from the very lips of the masked figure on the child's mind as a particularly large and unmarked crate was hefted and dragged out of sight. Beside him, Yugi gave a wheezing grunt of effort trying to maintain the balance of the weighty wooden box on the dolly that they, along with Jounochi, were weaving to the chosen location. Others contended with the extra baggage and necessities, beginning the lineup process of doling out larger belongings.

"A little further."

"Left?"

"No, straight…now left."

"Careful," Jounochi muttered, "almost rolled over my foot."

"Sorry."

Ten more paces and they gently lowered the container, all breathing weary sighs of relief. Firstly, from the weight. Secondly, no one else had needed to aid them. Jounochi flicked on his flashlight and pointed its bright beam to the spot where Yugi and Bakura set to peeling the seal open with crowbars that they had wedged into their belt loops for this very process. The squeaking crack of nails pulling away filled the air, thankfully muffled by the names being called as bags were passed out.

Within the packed crate, surrounded by the padding of rolled clothing and nestled from the haphazard mass of fabric by a fine satin cloth, lay Otogi. As pale as a corpse and as still as death, it would have been a strange and frightening sight for those unwitting passengers and auxiliary crew. Not even a puff of air came from his nose, nor a heartbeat from his chest. Still, the trio waited with their own breath bated, for those eyes, once green, to open to their newly found red.

They had to still themselves when he spoke instead, their heartbeats sent flying at the unexpected response.

"Dream Eater," Otogi intoned groggily, his eyes still closed, "What's with the entourage? Thought this was meant to be a covert thing."

Bakura glanced around to ensure no one was watching their concealed meeting, and once satisfied gave the others a nod. All three removed their masks. For the first time in a long while Bakura spoke without changing the cadence of his voice, "Open your eyes Otogi-kun, and you'll see."

The man's eyes shot open in alarm, and Jounochi stumbled back from his position as Otogi practically flew out of his makeshift resting place. The vampire's mouth hung open, but for once his fangs looked harmless, as his entire expression remained fixated on immeasurable disbelief. He swallowed visibly, blinking his eyes rapidly to ward off the inevitable.

"You guys…" Otogi breathed. "But…how? How is this possible? There's no way."

"It is," Yugi said, letting his tears run unabated. Without a second thought, he flung himself upon his friend and offered him a tight hug. It did not take long for Jounochi to join in, and as their hurried speech of finally being able to see each other and catch up rolled on, Bakura stood back with a look of sorrowful contentment. The look spoke of a sadness for all that had been lost, but a gladness that they could once again come together as their fractured little group. He wanted to give them the space to appreciate the moment as he did; he did not need to interfere.

Or so he had thought. Otogi glanced up at him and slowly shook his head at what Bakura could only assume was aimed at his audacity. "You're nuts," he confirmed with deep lines of stress growing on his face, pointing at him with an accusatory finger. "You could have gotten yourself killed. Still could, if anyone else finds out you're here."

"You gonna tell anyone?" Bakura asked, the switch within him flipped back to his hardened act, slinging the mask over his face once again.

"Well…no," Otogi faltered. "But I can still worry about you."

"It's appreciated."

"I can't believe it, though. You've got some balls. Lied straight to her face, and to mine, and I didn't even have any idea." His eyes narrowed, and Bakura almost laughed at the realization of what he was thinking.

"I'm just me, Otogi-kun."

"It is," Yugi vouched. "We've just been through a lot."

"I bet," Otogi said, visibly relaxing. Yugi's word had always been gold to their little group. "Especially if the stories I heard from her were true."

"What stories?" Jounochi asked. Bakura shook his head and raised his hand to silence him.

"We can talk about that later," Yugi said as if reading his mind, finally releasing from the embrace. "We can catch up later, on everything. For right now we have to do what we promised, otherwise we'll be too suspicious."

"Doesn't help that there's no one here to greet us," Jounochi said, following suit.

"Amelia did say there should be some of her friends nearby," Bakura added on. "Wouldn't they at least have shown up by now?"

"The last contact she had with them was before…" Otogi motioned widely around, "you know. But she did say that she had a friend who enjoyed working graveyard shifts over here as a hobby. She had connections elsewhere too, but this would be the easiest place to get to, and the first one she wanted to reestablish within their network."

"Well if they live nearby, then they should be here any moment."

"Hope they don't scare the people we came with," Jounochi worried, rubbing his neck.

"Or assume we're hostile."

"So optimistic, aren't we?" Jounochi rolled his eyes and Bakura giggled at the response.

Yugi thumbed his walkie-talkie and turned back to where the others were still unloading their items. The action seemed to spark a shift in the tone of discussion, and his party could see that his mind toyed with other topics. His pensive gaze attracted Otogi's, who sighed in annoyance as he observed the crowd.

"These people are worse than all of you," he said. "They had it good back there."

"Technically, so did you," Yugi murmured.

"Ah, they have their reasons," Jounochi said, trying to lighten the mood that seemed to darken as the night wore on. "We all do. And while we all had more than most available to us back there, could any of us really say we've had it 'good'?"

"I just don't get why they came," Otogi defended. "It wasn't like they had to be face to face with the one in charge. They just got to reap the benefits."

"In the end it doesn't matter. Amelia is one of the few I know of that thinks of far reaching consequences. The rest are too involved in what benefits them. If she's like that, but following him, then it is only going to be a matter of time before these people's quality of life would have suffered. Maybe they felt that and decided to leave when the opportunity came. None of them have families that they know survived. Some did have family here. They have about as many ties as we do. All they have to worry about presently are themselves. Anyway, don't worry," Bakura added with a grin, offering his friend a slight pat on his shoulder. "We'll keep you safe."

Otogi snorted. "Yeah, okay. You do realize I'm technically stronger than the three of you, right?"

"It's fine to be scared, there's no shame in it."

"Low blow…" Jounochi chuckled. He received a miffed shove from the dark-haired man that sent him stumbling a few paces forward. His jolted laugh followed him as he fought to catch his balance. The previous years of knowing each other padded the slight blow to Jounochi's ego. Otogi had held no malice in the action.

"You guys suck," Otogi muttered, his lips slightly pursed. The veneer of aggravation cracked seconds later. "But I did miss you all."

"Aren't you the one that su—" Jounochi began before his words were drowned out by a commotion that caught everyone's attention. The sound of interference shrieked through all the radios in use, causing Yugi to flinch away from his own belt as he covered his ears. It happened again before they all heard a sound underneath it. The sound of someone screaming.

"Cind's group!" Bakura exclaimed in alarm, although his mind cried out another name. With a swift warning for Otogi to hide, he bolted forward to come to the shrill cries for help that were all but flooded out by the cacophony of electronic feedback. Yugi and Jounochi followed, hot on his heels.

Blowing past the others—the dangerous murmuring of panic rumbling in the crowd already—the trio flew past the door that had been propped open and into the darkness of the hallway. The smell of mildew ran rampant through their nostrils as the rooms and empty corridors blurred past them, colors indescribable. The flashlight Jounochi possessed acted as a thin beam of light that left no clear picture of where they were, only that they were passing by it. Each wondered how far their patrol had gotten, each worried on what they would find.

This worry deepened as the cries once heard from the silenced radio bounced off the walls in an echo mimicking their darkest nightmares. No feedback marred the quality of those shouts, some familiar, some not. Pushed by the urgency to stop whatever horrors lay before them, they rushed on in a line—Yugi falling to the rear and acting as a defense in case they were ambushed, where Jounochi did his best to keep the beam of light from wavering off the path of the one who muttered unintelligible words that flowed like a line of litanies.

Bakura skidded to a halt on the unwaxed floor of the departure lobby seconds later, his boot carving a dark crescent path with the force. He raised his revolver in tandem with this action even before his mind could register what lay before them. It was more of an intuitive sense than the light that told him he was aiming at someone—or something. When his awareness finally caught up with his reflex, he could not stop himself from letting out a stifled gasp. The vision before him unfolded to nothing like anything he had imagined. His tactic shifted.

Raising his gun from its shot-lined position, he fired into the ceiling, the sound slamming into the ears of all in the vicinity. Plaster and other matter fell onto those of the scene; a snowstorm comprised of debris. The ensuing silence of the scuffling mass amidst the pelting objects provided a pause long enough for the newest attendees to assess the situation.

Both sides were clearly injured. Blood ran from a deep gash on a local's leg, staining the ground in short spatters as they held it together with their hands. The red flowed into some unknown clear liquid that made the ground beside them a hazard for any in the dim. Simon hovered over them with the bloodied weapon in hand, his breathing ragged and his clothes sopping wet. Kay lay unconscious beside Zoe—both their faces sporting the beginnings of bruises. Albert, Cindy, and Graham were entwined with their respective assailants, nearly bested by the backup that had shown up for the other side. All of this had been done in near darkness. Now, with even a small light shining upon them, the participants animosity petered out like a snuffed candle. The trio stared in silence for a second longer before Yugi stepped forward, his face contorted with disgust. Bakura lowered his gun, stepping back as he felt the full fury of a frightened but furious father emanate from the smaller frame. Jounochi shuffled to his retreating form, standing shoulder to shoulder while his flashlight brought full sight to the scene. Best to let Yugi have this one.

"What the hell is going on here?" said person asked before crossing his arms in the clearest form of disappointment.

"I have the same question for you," returned one from the apparent back up. Their accent was thick, but Bakura supposed it would be the same perception if reversed. "Who are you, what are you doing here, and why are you attacking us?"

"You attacked us first!" Cindy snarled.

"You barreled in here!"

"We aren't playing this game!" Yugi shouted, silencing the room in a way that showed his true caliber. He drew in a long breath, and added calmly, "Everyone here needs treatment, and the sooner the better. We can sort through this misunderstanding later. Those who can carry—"

"We aren't going anywhere with you lot!"

"I wasn't providing a choice. Able people carry the wounded. Both sides. We will tend to them properly when we get back to our medical supplies," Yugi commanded, drawing ire and awe alike from those in his presence. For the first time in a while, Bakura felt a weak return of his unfounded hatred—pressurized magma warming the surface of his emotions. Yet, even as the senseless feeling manifested, he could only smile; a look that misread as a frightening glare for his shrouded appearance, ensuring those they found pushed their efforts into double time. Yugi could have easily been confused for his long-time missing other half with the stance he had set, and the look of controlled assuredness. Yet, it was all him—something Bakura recognized, which fostered a feeling of pride of working closely with such a man.

And still Yugi kept that appearance while the three waited until the bumbling crowd backtracked toward the landing zone. Only when they were out of sight and the sounds of petulant grumblings were no more than faint reverberations did he release this look of confidence. With a heavy sigh of relief, Yugi slumped his shoulders and shuffled back toward his friends. "I had no idea that was going to work," he squeaked. "I get why our people went along with it, but the others?"

"They didn't have to," Jounochi agreed. "But they did. That was pretty cool of you, though. You got them all to listen."

"Really cool," Bakura said with a nod. "Thank you for doing the hard work."

"Hard work?"

"Yeah. I didn't have to look like an asshole for a change."

Yugi side-eyed his friend for the comment, sucking in his cheeks in annoyance as a soft titter followed. Jounochi shook his head at the pair and moved to oversee the damage the area had taken.

"They really did a number on each other," Jounochi muttered, swinging the flashlight around as he perused the leftover chaos. "Look at this."

"They did…but some of this looks old," Bakura said as he squatted down to peer at curious scratch marks hidden beneath the new gore.

"Wonder what happened?"

"It's like I said. We'll find out when we get everything sorted out. The last thing we need is for that guy to bleed out, or for Kay to fall into a coma. My mom's going to be so busy," Yugi said with a sigh.

"Yeah," Bakura agreed softly, scratching at the scarred tile with his fingernail. Something was caked between the thin crevasse. "Let's go back. I'm sure they're waiting."

"Right," the other two agreed in unison, nodding for affect. Eager to be away from this place, they exited through the same hallway the others had gone. The beam of the flashlight bobbed just ahead, and as their forms became mere shadows, they could not help but continue their discussion to combat against the uncomfortable silence that hung there. Yugi and Jounochi's funneled voices bounced off the walls as they made their way out.

"There's a lot of cleanup, that's for sure."

"Here I thought we might be able to sleep inside tonight."

"Probably have to go back in the plane. Unless we all want to get soaked by the incoming fog."

Bakura listened to their conversation with half-interest, giving the darkened room another once over, as if he could see even with the disappearance of light. The faint pattering of ceiling fluttering to the ground like a soft rain surrounded him, and the absence of the minor wildlife struck him. The unnatural silence once again; not the skittering of a rat, nor the rasping of some native bug shuffling amongst the litter joined the words that began to fade with distance. Disquieted, but satisfied he was alone, he removed his mask and stuck his caked fingernail into his mouth, letting his taste buds tap the strange powder-like substance that had become something else in the damp. His nose wrinkled as if he could also smell the flavor; its own special haunting scent. He spat the taste out to have it mix with the slurry of waste and covered his face once more. Revulsion never quite hit him; his mind whirred past it and onto the implications of the material's presence. Ash.

There was no hint of a fire nearby, no scorch marks. No acrid leftover scent that would have gotten caught in the walls. Yet, it was new enough that his eyes had caught sight and assessed the remnants correctly. So, where had it come from?

Rubbing the rest of the stuff from under his nail with the pad of his thumb, Bakura stored the knowledge of its existence for later. Presently, he busied himself with catching up with his friends, hurrying past a postcard rack bent in the shape of a cross. An oddity to be sure, but just another thing to catalogue in his lengthy laundry list of concerns, for now.

The unpacking paused for the night as those injured were tended to. The rest sat on the cold cement as they waited for the story of who their "welcoming party" attackers were, their forms fidgeting for warmth and out of restlessness. D listened with great care, trying his hand once more at filtering out the unnecessary whispers to hear the full explanation. It was not like they had a bull horn to relay the tale, so many closer to the back would have to hear it second hand. This led to many towards the back falling into the human habit of chatting in the face of disinterest—an annoying feature when one was trying to listen in, but technically good practice all the same. Disinterest…it was hard for D to understand how one could be disinterested when their very lives could have been on the line.

He had missed out on their names as he tried to tune out the bored discussion, but he deemed it irrelevant when compared to the information that followed. What was said chilled the boy to the core, far worse than the weighty fog that had begun to surround them in earnest ever could. D would have moved closer to Bakura, not caring that it would have been obvious he was looking for comfort from the one he knew would protect him, but that would have meant coming closer to those people.

And with the way they spoke, he worried that they would somehow just know.

With a suavity learned from surviving the harsh environment, the trio drew out what they could without compromising their own tasked side-mission. At least, the boy thought this was the case based on the way they shuffled their gaze to one another ever so slightly, and the snippets he had gathered from his previous covert eavesdropping. Mai added her voice to the discussion and utilized her practice with political talk to aid them in their endeavor to feel out the history of these people. This was for the best—with her natural disarming charm and everyone's efforts they quickly learned their unspoken mission was no longer of great import. So said their distant expressions, and the words that came from these strangers' mouths. There had been a reason Amelia had not been able to get a hold of her allies—not that her name had been uttered, but the boy could put two and two together. They were all dead.

Killed by the hands of the very people before them.

A brief silenced followed this detail. Presented with a fact that saved them the stress of yet another bloody battle yet piled on another type of stress, those that knew of the new dangers hid their squirms of discomfort behind shifting their feet in natural skepticism or exhaustion.

"Come again?" the boy heard Yugi ask, his voice perfectly balanced in concern for those present. The man that the strangers clearly saw as their leader tried to find something to do with his hands while he looked on at his wounded compatriots. Peering between the empty holes of the fidgeting crowd, D could see the man shake his head as if he had been expecting such a response.

"I know it's hard to believe. But I swear by what I said. We all do. There were vampires here—just like the books. Infecting us like the damned plague. And for all the hell we were going through, we weren't about to let them ruin our lives further, that's for damn sure."

"What'd you guys say you were, again?" Jounochi inquired. Being naturally earnest—and from what D had been able to assess long ago, not the greatest of liars—even this innocuous question made Jounochi's concern for his own "infected" party members a little too obvious. The boy could almost feel the side glare Bakura gave from where he stood. These others did not seem to catch on.

"Well, I don't suppose we can rightly call ourselves this just yet, seeing as we all only have found one batch of the buggers."

"Then again, who's to tell us what we are or not these days," a woman in their group added with a chuckle.

"True!" And laughter was shared.

Clutching at his arms, D turned away, suddenly annoyed with his hair, with everything around them. Annoyed, because he could not blame these people whose lives could have been horrifically altered if they had not taken a stand. Annoyed, because they took lives like his as a joke, and obviously thought little of how there could be "good ones" out there. The stress of this dual emotion that he would carry on well into his adult years was already compounding while he searched for the best exit route between the rhythmless steps of the milling crowd in the back (those without even the patience to sit down). He began to undo the fun that Amami had had with her braiding, cursing the world for its cruelty in silence as he heard their response in full. He felt the need to cover the tips of his ears the best he could; less for his sake, and more for those who would defend the likes of him until their dying breath. D edged away from the group with unassuming steps, grateful of his naturally quiet nature. The less they saw of him, the better.

"Well, the tales are all there, so we just use 'em, but we fancy ourselves to be Vampire Hunters."

Yes…less was better. Ears covered, mouth shut, eyes down. Down, because even if they were dark now, he never knew when his hunger would strike. Then that red light would overtake his most human-appearing trait, and if his eyes even so much as flickered to their unnatural tone…

…there would be no hiding from these people.

D knew Bakura was probably torn even as he stood beside these people with uncharacteristic ease; drowning in self-loathing for putting him in this position while knowing the others would be safe. To lie so much must be exhausting, the boy thought, finally free of the throng. His steps led him a short distance away, far enough that if he did not focus, the discussions of the crowd all became as one, but not so far as to draw attention to himself. He continued to stare at the ground, feeling so alone in this world that clearly could not stand him. He let out a little whimper but did not let the tears that threatened fall. What good was crying, he thought with a touch of bitterness, what did it change for him?

He lifted his gaze from the pavement when movement by the plane caught his eye. D's prepared step faltered, his mouth dropping a little. He recognized the situation was far worse than he could have imagined.

By the opened storage of the plane, a tall figure stood mostly hidden from view. Sadness filled this individual's features. The boy watched the person while they scanned the crowd, twirling their hair nervously between their fingers. D did not know this man, but he inferred easily enough that he had something to do with the now defunct plan. He knew this person's life was in just as much danger as his, if not more. Chilled by another revelation as if a swath of ice had bathed him, the boy danced even further away from the crowd. There were three lives in immediate danger.

D's, this stranger in the shadows', and Kaiba's.

Infected, infected, infected. The words repeated in his mind to the rhythm of his heartbeat. What did wise people do with infections? Cleanse them with medication. If there was none? Then there was only one way. Cut out the infection before it spread.

"Hey," a soft voice called from behind him. He did not start, as he had known them to be there, but faced Amami with what he hoped was a look of disinterest.

"You let your hair down," she pointed out, a little disappointed. "And you look…are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Amami squinted at him in the dark, and her lips pulled upwards with a twitch. "You know, you are bad at lying."

"No, really. I am," D sighed, tugging his hair over his shoulders so as not to fuss with his shirt. The red ribbon that had swirled around it made circles around his fingers. He blinked twice to make sure that no excess gave him away. "I was just getting a little cold."

"Oh," Amami intoned, half-believing his words. She did tend to forget that the weather did not bother him the same as it did her. "Yeah, I am, too…I kind of want to go inside. When do you think they'll let us?"

"We might have to wait to do that," D said, toying with the red ribbon.

"Oh, no! Why? What are they talking about up there?"

"Grown up things." D shrugged.

"D—do you think I'm dumb, Nobody?" the girl asked, catching herself. She crossed her arms and tilted her head just so, as if to peer down at him. It seemed like she was picking up on some of Claire's behaviors. D could not help but smile to himself.

"No."

"Then explain."

"I want you to have this," D said, derailing the conversation. He leaned forward and looped the red ribbon into her dark tresses before she could decline.

"What? Why?" The girl asked, her cheeks flushing to match the new decoration hanging in her hair.

D restrained himself from glancing back at the front of the crowd. "A nice lady gave that to us. To remind us of good times. Please, keep it so you can do the same."

"That sounds ominous," his hand muttered. D silenced it with a squeeze and breathed a sigh of relief when it appeared Amami was too transfixed with her present to be aware of what it said. Damn his hand for voicing the feelings behind his actions. There was such a high chance something would tear D and his friend apart again; this time he wanted to leave her with something more pleasant than a memory of a tear-stained face.

This was a place she could fit into—much like Claire in that underground city. And much like that city and the ones after it, D knew he was no more than an outsider. A child at the fringes, looking in at what was a happy place without him in it.

Thankfully, the discussion broke at that instant, disallowing him to delve further into self-deprecation. The adults noisily shifted from their positions and began wandering up to those who had heard to be debriefed or to have more personal questions answered. He looked for Bakura in the churning crowd, the one constant in his young life, and wondered when he, too, would be gone from it.

Even that thought did not last long; in fact, it withered the moment D grasped the man's hand and hid his face against him. For what radiated from his guardian was an aura of protection, and even though he knew things were going to get harder, the boy could relax a little with the knowledge he would not be facing this danger alone.

The calm did jostle his memory, and he realized he had to warn Bakura of the thing he spied in the darkness. He was not going to let anyone begin their departure earlier than necessary. Although this nameless man was stealthier than the average human, this supposed ally could not be wandering around so obviously. He had to know that more than hurt feelings could occur—many could die. This entity could not risk being caught; even Claire would know this. Not when vampire hunters were about.

Sure, he would have to explain himself and how he came to that understanding without being privy to any prior conversations, but certainly the greater concern was for the safety of others. Impolite behavior had to be forgiven if for the greater good…right?

The night passed without further incident; granted, incredulous discussion burbled around the makeshift camp about the belief of the supernatural. No one in the masked group was interested in putting their two cents in—however, interested stares were aimed their way. Such thoughts were quickly shot down by the skeptical, as everyone from the plane had been seen in the sunlight and survived just fine. Was that not proof enough?

For now, it seemed to be. The next day would be another matter.

"So, they splashed you with…holy water?"

"Yeah," Simon chuckled, his hands on his hips. The odd pair stared out at the rippling surface of the expansive river that next noon; the broken buildings across the way interesting one, while the dividing fence interested the other. Claire, disregarding the man's warning gaze, hopped atop the dirty railing, and peered down at the river that had to be going faster than it looked. Just behind them, a park gone to disrepair told its tale in the remaining graffiti. Everything was different, yet so much remained the same.

"But only a priest can make holy water, right?" the girl grumbled, flicking a chunk of rock-hard gum off the concrete and into the liquid before her with the tip of her shoe.

"That's what they've told us," he said. "You should get down. You don't want to fall in there."

"Well, I'm not a priest," Claire pointed out, ignoring his warning. "And based on what I remember being told when I was littler, I can't be. First, you gotta be…ordinated…I don't remember the word. Also, you gotta be a dude."

"Priests are ordained by the Church, sure. But who ordained the first one?"

Claire frowned, stared at her warped reflection in the water. "I dunno," she muttered, scratching her head in confusion. "God?"

"It's all about belief," Simon replied, giving Claire a little smile. "I can't speak as to why it's only been males since most of that came from stupid discriminatory practices, but at this point, belief is all we got."

"So, if something like that was needed…you think I could do it?" Claire asked.

"You've got some weird questions. Probably. I was close to being one, but I bet regardless of that, I could do it."

"But that's you! How would I know?! And what would happen if it didn't work, and I'm just making them mad by splashing water in their face?"

"Then you'd have your weapon?" Simon responded rhetorically.

"It's long range, stupid," Claire snickered then rolled her eyes. "I don't get why he likes you so much. You can be so dumb."

He shook his head at her words and leaned against the railing just beside her. "I don't know why you're so worried about it in the first place. That's not what we're here for."

"Well, I don't know what we're here for," Claire said in a huff. "All I know is that we're going to have a bunch of people against us soon, and I want to be prepared a little at least to help."

"What do you mean?"

"These Outies don't like people like D," the girl muttered under her breath. "And if there are still vampires around here that these people are worried about, they don't much like us…and want to take him away from us. I gotta help."

"One," Simon counted, raising a finger to illustrate his point, "we aren't intending on fighting anyone here. Everyone has been hunky-dory with each other. Two, you want to learn how to make something that would hurt him…to help him? I'm not following that logic. And three, no you don't have to help. Not like that. You kids have had too much responsibility and hardship pushed on you too early because of circumstances out of your control. But that was back then; you've got more people to back you up now. You don't have to worry anymore. Just be kids. Let the adults handle things. Your gun is only for emergencies, anyway."

The girl shifted her seat until she was looking the man dead in the eye. "You don't get to tell me that," she said flatly. One would have expected her tone to be defiant, but rather, it was stated like a truth. Inarguable and unwavering as her stare.

Simon readjusted his glasses and sucked in air through gritted teeth. "Claire, kid…that's just what you are. A kid. And I know that I'm not—"

"That's not it. You just don't get it."

A chilling wind breathed between them before shaking a nearby tree, forcing it to drop heavy leaves cupping small pools of water. They fell, dampening the ground and the two primed for verbal combat with the reach of their curving death throes. The smell of snow threatened, faint with the distance, the remnant of warmth in the air holding it back as if to plead "not yet."

"You can't go backwards," Claire said, pulling her hair behind her ear. A cheap and childish bat-shaped earring flashed in and out of sight as some of her attempt fell back into place, its jovial nature countering the serious expression she held. "My momma used to tell me something like that when I'd get sad about things I couldn't change. Then—it doesn't matter. I didn't really understand at first, but I do now thanks to being found."

"What does that mean?"

"It means if you gotta grow up fast, then…you just grow up fast. It's not fair, and it's not how it should be—but it is what it is. I can still have fun and stuff, and I already do most of the 'kid' things anyway. I like messing around with my friends, and not having to worry about who's gonna find dinner, who's gonna take care of the dishes, who's gotta patrol the camp, or who has to talk fancy to others to make sure we stay on people's good sides. I like having friends. I like being with people. I like calling myself a 'kid' because, like, duh…I still am age wise. I'm not saying I'm not super younger than you or that I know more than you. Like…I'm not stupid. I'm just saying you can't take away what I know—or what I've seen and what I can do."

"Claire—"

"—Because," she interjected, "I've done all that, at least a little. I know what I gotta do to survive, which means I will worry about it and know I have a part to play when it's time. I know what you really mean when you call us kids, but you can't stop it, or stop us. So, stop trying."

Taking this proclamation as a challenge, Simon stood up straight, no longer at level with the girl, but hovering just above. Claire remained seated on the dirty railing, unperturbed by his gesture of pulling rank. The battle of wills between them commenced in silence as the river lapped against the cement wall. Red winged birds twittered in place of human speech, the rapid-fire songs sounding almost like an argument. Finally, sick of the standstill, Simon grabbed the girl by her sides and before she could argue, pulled her off the divide. He sat her down on the steady ground, a frown digging heavy lines into his face.

"You aren't that tough, so knock it off," he warned. "I might not be Bakura, or Mai, but I'm still in charge of your safety. Stop this stupid hierarchy BS and don't start acting like you know everything. You could get a lot of people hurt trying to save you if you did."

"I want to be prepared. That's not knowing everything."

"And that attitude needs to stop."

"I don't have an attitude," she argued, her voice pitched high. "I'm just saying—"

"You're just saying a lot of things that's digging you into even more trouble. Even if we adults decide to share such information with you, right here where anyone could hear us would not be the place. Why can't you, I dunno, act more like D?"

Her lower lip quivered slightly as she jerked away from him and faced the graying sky. Simon cocked his head at her expression, wondering if he had struck a nerve. He would have felt a little bad, but she did tend to struggle with authority. In his mind that needed to be fixed quickly. Better tears now than trouble later, so he thought.

Yet, the quivering stopped almost as soon as it started. Eyes still mirroring the sky, her emotions hidden by the mounds of clouds above, Claire countered, "D's trying to figure out how to live with that feeling, too, you know. Like you said, we've had to deal with a lot that you guys never did, but you still treat us like we're too dumb to know that fire's hot; honestly, we don't even know exactly what you want from us. Maybe we're not as 'mature' as you adults…well, maybe he kind of is…but surviving is what we know best."

She breathed in and faced him once more, narrowing her eyes at the man. "It becomes clearer when you say stupid stuff like that. Maybe you don't have intuition, Simon. I dunno. But I can feel something bad is going to happen and I want to be ready when it does…You aren't always going to be here."

And with a swiftness he had not expected, Claire vaulted over the graffitied wall away from the water's edge and landed in the overgrown grass of the park. She hurried off in that rippling green expanse, ducking and weaving between the trees, leaving Simon to fester in his disturbed contemplation. What was with this group he had found and their ominous proclamations?

Claire, for her part, panted heavily as she ran from him and the scene that mirrored her own troubled dreams. The clouds that day only needed to be dashed with a faint swath of brown to become the smoke of nightmares—those cracked glasses on the ground covered in the gore of who once wore them. Hand in hand with her nameless ally she had raced block by block through the island-like divot in this strange country. Flames had licked the streets and screams of people she had never met cried up to the sky that refused to rain and end their suffering. Cackling had poured from the lips of those accursed villains who would take her dearest friend away; their success the result of absolute mismanagement.

The smell of cooking flesh made her stomach roil, the sizzling of oils popping made her wish she could not hear. She covered her ears to silence the sounds that poured from her head like—

"Woah, why are you running like that?"

She gasped, almost lifting off the ground in her surprise, as she felt comforting arms swing her from her sightless trajectory. Bakura peered down at her as always with that quiet concern, and his look snapped her out of her hallucinated memory. Just behind him was Mai, whose harried look from dealing with prying and oversharing strangers for the first half of the day remained glued to her face. She sat with one leg under her as she lounged in the patio seat they had pulled up by their door at the inn. D squatted nearby on the low brick wall like some curious crow, cocking his head at her, his attentions pulled away from their temporary neighbor who was currently grilling some type of gamey creature for lunch. The girl sagged in relief, nearly causing Bakura to drop her from the lack of warning.

"Just…running," she puffed, not wishing to verbalize what had frightened her just yet. There were strangers here.

"Okay…but weren't you taking a walk with Simon?"

"He got boring," she spouted. She tossed her head with that purposeful oversimplification and sauntered inside, knowing that it would bring those who knew her running. Would she get in trouble for that attitude? Undoubtedly. But it would be worth it if she could warn them…that's if they would listen. Claire hoped they would be more receptive than Simon had been.

She passed by Jounochi as he was heading outside, their second newest addition of a housemate at this time and gave him a little wave. She liked him and did not want him or any of the others to get hurt. Not even that cold looking guy with the strange blue eyes.

Pausing, with the hurried footsteps of someone familiar coming up behind her, she tried to remember if the other one had been in her dream. The one they called Otogi. The girl had only met him for a brief moment, but she had been filled in on the history between him and the others. There had been no need to explain the delicate situation, however, she knew what he was instantly. She bit her thumbnail, wondering what side he had been on. Claire shivered as she allowed herself to remember her dream once again. Had he been laughing? Or had he been dead?

'—in a short while,' the voice of that kid beside her called, and she turned as she had in her dream, questioning why the illusion felt so real. She knew the feeling of a wall's proximity, but she could have sworn she was also facing her dreaming friend.

"What?"

'What about the river? The seaside?'

"But…vampires don't swim…" she muttered to herself before questioning her phantasmic friend. "Can he—"

"What about vampires?" D asked from behind, startling her once again. She spun around, poised to attack and then lowered her arms almost instantly. His playful posture, leaning sideways at her with his arms folded behind his back as if to hint at the fact he was overtaking her in height, calmed the hammering of her heart. Enough so that she wanted to punch him for a different reason.

"Don't sneak up on me!"

"Don't mumble to yourself," the boy teased, hardly moving his mouth.

"Wasn't."

"Full of shit."

"Stooop or you're gonna get in trouble," she snickered. She pressed her palm to his forehead and "forced" him to stand straight.

"Not as much as you," D said with a faint grin. "What's up with you? You're acting strange."

"I had a bad dream—but not like that!" she said in a rush as D's eyes widened with worry. "I didn't see any creepy shapeshifting monsters. I mean, aside from like…vampires."

"Oh." The tinge of sorrow in his voice made Claire's heart ache.

"Not like that, stupid," she said in response, her tried and true method of shifting the mood. She much preferred when he let himself be happy…even if he acted like an ass.

"Yeah," his hand pipped up. "Not everything is about you."

"Shut up." D glared down at his hand as he clenched it shut.

"Yeah, what he said," Claire confirmed with a snort. "That A-B conversation with the C's 'n everything. I had a dream and I'm feeling all déjà vu—ish. I wanted to talk to you guys inside because…"

"Because?"

"I don't really trust anyone here," she whispered, cupping her mouth so the words only reached the boy. An unnecessary move as D would have heard it just fine if she had so much as breathed them. "I mean, do you?"

The boy raised an eyebrow, all the response needed. A silent agreement that did even better at hiding the discussion than her whispers. Of course, he did not trust these people. They were pleasant, of course, kind, and helpful—but they had a strict attitude when it came to anything supernatural. Otogi had had to remain at the airport alone, awaiting the signal when it would be time to reconvene and come up with some new plan. He had regained some autonomy only to lose it again; D was only so lucky he remained unseen. To them, he was just some unnaturally adorable child that acted as the perfect example of how others like him should be.

Who knows what would happen if they found out what he was…or even more frightening, who he was related to?

For what was he but the ultimate outsider?

Claire looked over D's shoulder before motioning him into the back bedroom. If Bakura were to chase after them to demand an explanation, he would find them there easily. It was their room, after all.

The girl flopped onto the double bed, peering between the gauzy curtains to make sure no one traversed the side street beside them. Satisfied, she looked back to her friend who sat beside her, tapping his socked heels on the floor. Letting out a quick hiss of remembrance, she kicked off her own shoes and let them fly haphazardly to the floor. D observed this and let out a snicker.

"It's hard to remember," she defended.

He gave her a playful look, and then one that was far more serious.

"I think we should leave," she said, answering the question his eyes asked.

"How?"

"The plane. And before you say anything, I know that's obvious. I just think that…this isn't our place."

"It's not," he agreed.

"So, we should leave. The three…no four…seven…like our main people." She scooted closer to him. "But it's not going to be that easy, is it?"

D shrugged. "I don't know. Are you worried we're going to get caught? That Graham or Simon or Zoe won't want to come?"

"I—yeah," she said, thinking that she was more concerned about her dream. Something he seemed to pick up on.

"You can tell me. I'm listening."

Claire had to admit, his empathetic gesture was sweet. It was tough being the emotionally conscious one. Not that she would have used such words to explain it. "I'm scared that no one is going to listen to us…and that everyone's gonna die because of it."

D frowned at her words, and she could see his fingers already toying with the cuff of his sleeve. Maybe he had not dreamt of the catastrophe, but he clearly held some horrifying prediction close to the subject—so said his troubled digits. "How does it happen? Who is with you when it happens?"

"First, I remember fire…" she started, trailing off when she spied a folded piece of paper on the dresser top by the cot Bakura had rigged for himself. She did not remember seeing it when she had woken up that morning. It seemed so out of place. Her nose scrunched, curiosity sparking.

Hopping off the bed, the girl picked up the creased page and tilted her head much like an owl observing movement in the brush, searching for likely prey. She discerned its contents, the words dancing before her as she tried to make sense of the symbols. What she saw was an amalgamation of interchanging languages, starting with what she assumed was Japanese and moving into a far more recognizable language. She caught a snippet— "really should practice my English"—before the page was torn from her fingers by an aggravated D, who carefully refolded it and placed it back where it had lain before.

"That isn't yours," he chided. She half heard him, watching the paper inch its way open once more. She stared intently, willing it to open more. He caught her doing so and huffed loudly enough to draw her attention again. "Claire!"

"Well, what is it then?" she asked. "It wasn't there before."

"Wasn't there—that doesn't matter. It isn't yours. This is just as bad as when you are reading my journal."

"Nuh uh," she disputed, "because this isn't a journal, it's a piece of paper."

"I like how you don't even deny that you read it."

"Uh…you know I do. You write to me in it."

"Oh, you asshole."

"I don't read it all the time, anyway," she said with a laugh. "But really, what's so wrong with looking at it? I mean…it's just there. And it's not your handwriting. If it was something serious wouldn't it have been hidden?"

"That doesn't mean it isn't personal."

"You know, if you'd stop being so cryptic, I'd probably stop asking."

D's eyes narrowed and he shook his head at his friend. "It's a letter."

"Oookayyyy?"

"A letter from Bakura to his sister."

For a second Claire bobbed her head in understanding before snapping to attention. "Wait, but she's dead!"

"Yes."

"But…" she said, stumbling over her words. "But…if you know that you must have read it!"

The mere thought seemed to offend the boy worse than her admission that she still invaded his privacy. "No! I just…I've seen him do it before. I know he does it."

"Uh huh."

He glared at her. She smiled at him. He continued to glare. She continued to smile. His glare faltered. Her smile grew wider.

"I haven't read this one," he confessed, finally breaking.

"But you've read them before?"

"Yes…" he sighed. "I have. He hasn't done it recently that I know of, either. Let's just leave it alone. We have more important things to talk about anyway. Like your dream."

"I guess…but shouldn't I wait until Bakura shows up? Should I be repeating it so much?"

"I guess not," D mused. "I'll go get him. I think he planned on coming in later, since I was already coming in after you."

"Coming to butter me up before he comes in to tell me I'm being bad?"

"…I don't know if I would have said it like that."

Claire shrugged. "It's not wrong."

"Maybe not…Also, I guess you shouldn't come since Mai might chastise you and then you won't be able to close your mouth and you'll cause a scene—"

"Hey!"

"But Claire…don't touch the letter."

"I won't."

"I mean it."

She crossed her arms and groused, "I won't."

D eyed her with scrutiny before begrudgingly setting off alone to bring Bakura to them. Claire took her place back on the bed, patting the ground with her toes as she anxiously waited for their return. The dream was bugging her, nagging at the back of her head with an insistence she had never felt before. She was used to strange dreams, but not ones that could follow her into the daytime. Unable to help herself, she turned a curious eye to the letter, leaning just enough to scan the words between the folded page. She would not touch it. She had given her word. That did not mean she could not try and read it though.

Dancing a little in her seat in celebration of her cleverness, Claire hummed to herself, scanning what she could see for anything she would understand. The letter was not long, and she doubted there was much to it, but her interest had been piqued. Yet, just as she spotted a line with familiar letters, she stopped moving, her pleasant tune silenced instantly. Her jaw dropped in disbelief, catching sight of the few words Bakura had written to his sister.

—find a means of evacuation. If anything were to happen on this little plot of land, the city would be destroyed in a short while. What about the river—

The scent of smoke filled her nose.