Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.
I am so sorry about the wait. I haven't had any time as of late, and it's actually bumming me out. I wanted to be much further than this. The chapter is finally here though, and I hope it is to your liking!
Enjoy!
Chapter Fifty-Two: Before the Storm
November 21, 2004
Dear Amane,
I think that this is the right date. To be honest, I'm too exhausted to be sure, and if the dawn's rays are any indication, we were off on our estimation time for arrival anyway. Still, I can't sleep just yet, although I am glad that the others are.
Fleeing a tiger at the front gate only to find a wolf at the back…we can't catch a break. From what I've gathered, they aren't exactly keen on anything vampire related (although I can't blame them, while I can't say I want to destroy them all, I want a certain one dead…him and his cohorts at least) and my intuition says it's the same for sympathizers. And these seem to be such nice people.
Although, once again, not a soul about—aside from those already in our party—speak our language. I really should practice my English…there's going to be plenty times where we are just going to flat out not understand those we come across. That would at least give us some hope for pleasant discussion rather than hostility. It's the only "popular" language I know.
…Sure, I've gotten better at it, but there's still too much room for miscommunication. You're probably thinking, 'Why is he writing to me in English, though, won't that be dangerous?' Probably. But that would mean that someone would have to be peering over my shoulder now, and that's just not the case.
Also, it's not like anyone is going to bother reading this. They won't have the chance. This will be going where it always goes.
Speaking of intuition…I'm nervous. Nervous about this placement, and nervous about what surrounds us. I think they chose this particular airspace because it allowed them to hit the river in case any emergency occurred, or they misjudged the distance (not that I know much about the specifics, I'm not really wise to how piloting works—but you know that). Unfortunately, the way this area is situated, all means to the "mainland" are a little too easy to see. And if they're too easy, enemies will be able to figure it out and to put it simply, we'll be screwed.
Who are our enemies? Not to sound paranoid, but if we have to hide what some of us are—or our experiences—it sort of begs the question as to who our allies are…
Right now, we need to 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 seaside? Should we leave now, to the seaside? It would at least slow the vampires down, but then we run the risk of putting D and Claire in more danger. What if it's not the vampires we have to worry about? Also, we lose the easiest means of travel.
Is it bad that I am only worried about our safety? Even then, mostly for the kids? It's just, and I know you would agree with me, I don't trust anyone here. There's something iffy about this place. I don't want anyone else being the reason we stay or go somewhere, but that's the place I'm stuck in if we have to use the plane. What, am I going to hold Simon and Graham hostage and force them to fly us out? I'd be stopped by far too many people.
I know this isn't a pleasant letter. I know I haven't really sent one of those in a long time. Still, thank you for listening. I hope the next time I write that it can be about something…positive.
I also hope…wherever you are…you're having a good day.
Much love,
Ryou
"—and I end my turn."
"Are you kidding me?!"
"Impressive move."
"Great going!"
"I don't know how you pulled that out of your ass."
"Well, this is just like the old days."
"I'm not even surprised," Mokuba remarked with a snicker, adding his opinion while lounging inside an empty crate—the others huddled around the dueling pair in anticipation for Otogi's next move.
"You shouldn't be," Kaiba replied coolly. "Just because he changed, doesn't mean his tactics did."
"You've never even seen me duel," Otogi spouted, glaring at the other from his crouched position.
"I never had to. If you had been even remotely worthy, you would have tried entering a tournament. Even he managed that," the brunette said, thumbing at Jounochi who rolled his eyes.
"Ah, not this shit again," Jounochi complained. "Can't we just enjoy the fact we can all hang out together, and for once, for once, not worry about something life or death?"
"I second that," Yugi said, readjusting his hand. "Now stop distracting Otogi-kun."
That garnered a speckle of laughter from the tiny gathering.
Save for the surroundings and the peculiar scent of distant river water, their unofficial meeting really did feel like old times. Anzu and Mai made quiet bets between themselves, laughing quietly into their hands when a play was called correctly, or when the assumption of "your move" being spouted was dead on. The other duelists looked on with near-serious faces, pondering the next best play with their small knowledge of what cards the two were playing with. Bakura had been a part of that second party, mentally warning Otogi against making a rash move and knowing it was a useless endeavor, until the newest arrival came bearing the news that they all longed for.
"Zoe's fine," Graham said, offering each of them sodas, a delicacy provided by the local inhabitants. As he took one, Bakura noted Wanatabe's presence. He hovered close behind the naturally boisterous man, looking out of place in the current company. After a nervous glance from the former businessman caught Bakura's eye, he glanced away with an even greater swiftness. Either something was on his mind that the young man was unaware of, or things were not going well. It went without saying that Wanatabe preferred to stay near his remaining family—who at present was busy playing with the other children under Simon's watchful eye back at the inn. Yet another compounding irregularity. Snapping open the drink, Bakura observed him carefully as he sipped the flat beverage.
"The others?" Mai asked, gesturing to the man in thanks as she took two cans. She passed one back to Anzu, who looked on just as intently as the others. It had been their party who had suffered the worst of the impromptu attack.
"Kay…hasn't woken up yet. But your mother says there's hope." He nodded to Yugi who offered an encouraging smile back.
"If my mom says she'll get better, she'll get better."
"I believe it."
"Any new info in general?" Jounochi queried, leaning back into stretch. The tension never seemed to leave him as he sat up straight again, however. "Like how's it looking out there?"
"It's only been a day—"
"A day's enough to get a basic sense," Kaiba cut in, as abrasive as usual when things were not up to his standards. Now that their timer had begun, he refused to be in the dark unless it was an absolute necessity. This meant that their once agreed upon structure was growing shakier by the day as he toed the line of being in charge once more. From her vantage point, Mai rolled her eyes and nudged Anzu, who only smiled into her hand. Without words it was clear that she was glad his mood was improving.
Not that many would have called it an improvement.
"All I can tell you is Jessica says she feels uncomfortable here—"
'Strange,' Bakura mused to himself, an unkind memory leading to unkind thoughts, 'considering where she came from.'
Still, for the sake of others and the simple fact he held no true ill will towards the woman, he kept quiet and listened to the rest. Theo had hung back with the bulk of the others that made up their "main camp" to keep an eye on the wounded and the tired, with each of their own expressing only positive emotions for their newest acquaintances. It seemed that their own newer recruits were won over easily enough. Which should have been fine, but…
"Albert did as you asked," Graham said, lowering his voice, directing his words to the small congregation. "He stuck his neck out there, and asked anyone who would talk about how the attack occurred, and how they had come to find out the existence of 'you know'—"
"And?" Kaiba asked, clenching his hands as they involuntarily went to his neck.
"He said a lot didn't want to talk about it. The others who did…well he thinks he's being watched now."
"All because he 'didn't buy it'?"
"Maybe, or maybe it has to do with what they told him. Either way, it seems like it didn't start out as an attack."
"What does that mean?" Anzu asked. The others watched her, waiting for her clarification. "They weren't attacked? Then how did they even know?"
"It's difficult to say this as fact, but I'm inclined to agree with Albert's summation: he thinks that these people were just waiting for a scapegoat, and when one introduced itself—literally, from the hem-hawed conflicting stories he heard—they jumped for it. Gave them that renewed community feel."
"Some I talked to today did mention that a lot of the surrounding area past the river and those broken buildings doesn't exist anymore," Mokuba added, rubbing his chin.
"So, why are they so happy to see us, then?" Yugi asked.
"We aren't exactly 'normal' by their standards," Jounochi agreed.
"Maybe we're good collateral," Bakura offered, standing to walk off his frustration. "Either we assimilate, and bolster their numbers, or we ensure that they don't start eating each other up alive."
"How?"
Bakura brow raised. "If they attack us, they aren't attacking the others. We're the perfect people to blame—outsiders that were dropped right into their laps."
His statement brought up thoughts of the not to distant past, and the group fell silent for a time. Graham shifted awkwardly where he stood; he might have been aware of the past, but awareness and having been present on that boat were two different things.
"I'm guessing that means I'm stuck here for a while longer," Otogi grumbled, more focused on their current predicament. His friends' faces all squirmed with sympathy for the man. Even Kaiba's expression read as empathetic.
"Maybe I should stay here, too," Kaiba said, vocalizing this feeling, while also bringing up a new concern.
"But they've seen you," Mai countered.
"True. But if I lay low until we figure out what everyone plans on doing, then I'm one less obvious target for them to go after all of you. One good warm day, and they'll begin asking about my clothing preferences."
Otogi chuckled. "I don't know why you would want to hang around here. It's been pretty quiet. Most everything that people needed immediately has already been doled out."
"Empty boxes mean quiet company."
"Wow."
"To be fair, not all boxes are empty," Mokuba said, pointing to the back of the hangar where the remaining crates (gifts from Amelia, they all assumed, and not the most pressing issue on their list) lay.
"Boxes don't talk, period," Kaiba stated, but broke character to let his amusement shine through.
"What is everyone's plan?" Graham asked, refocusing the conversation. All present paused the playful jabs they planned on spouting and gave each other nervous side-glances. Bringing up their future plans was a touchy subject for many—outside of those in the present meet-up. Especially so soon; so many were still reeling from the fact that they had flown in a world where the mere idea had been unheard of. While not everyone was up for acclimatization, that did not mean everyone wished to go to the same place—or should. However, there was only one mode of swift transportation available if necessary.
And there were also those who were close but had different wishes for what they wanted for the rest of their lives.
Yes, it left quite a few feeling very awkward.
"This isn't the place," Bakura replied, giving the older man a sad half-smile.
"This was not going to be the end of the road for me, either," Yugi agreed.
"Same here," said Anzu.
"I go where they go," Jounochi added.
"And I've made a promise," Mai replied.
"I think it's obvious," Kaiba stated, with Mokuba nodding emphatically beside him.
"It's not like they like me here anyway," Otogi said with a laugh. "Or even know me!"
Graham looked at their small gathering, and the fire behind their eyes. It was clear they were bound by something greater than simply looking for a place to live, to start over—even if it was to the detriment of their own happiness. Not that this place would have given it to all. The only upside was that this constant move did ride partially on the happiness of the youngest of them all. The one shining beacon in this strange fate they all shared.
Bakura watched the man's expression droop in sadness, but his aging mouth twisted into a bright beam seconds later. It appeared he understood. "Well, there's enough juice in there for at least one more good flight," he said with gusto, "and I'm up for one more good adventure!"
"We'd be glad to have you," Bakura replied with a grin before anyone else could argue against it. "We always need more experts."
"I don't know about all tha—"
"Take the complement," the young man chided quietly, nudging him with his arm. Certainly, he wished that those he was growing fond of would stick around, but selfishly, he also hoped some of the more measured and sensible sorts would stay with them. While Graham could be a strangely excitable individual, he was exactly the person Bakura was looking for. They needed a little more balance to their party. Even if he trusted Kaiba enough to help him with his newfound powers and accept the skills of leadership he offered in case things got rough, that did not mean he forgot the tale of the power struggle that had nearly killed them all. While Mai had not been a part of that, Yugi had. If they were to keep their little community democratic, they needed more voices to reign in whoever thought they new everything. Himself included.
"I'm going for a walk," he called back, flipping the hood of his sweater up as he ambled away. "Going to mentally prepare myself for whoever I'm dueling next. Tell me who wins."
"You'll find out when you get back," Jounochi called.
"Isn't it obvious, though?" Otogi asked, staring at his hand forlornly.
"You're doing fine," Anzu soothed, and then laughed.
Bakura smiled as he heard them return to their game. Sticking his hands into his pockets, he began his trek onto the landing pad. It offered him a wonderful sight of the destruction on the other side of the marina. Somehow the closer proximity made it seem worse than devastation across the Thames. They truly felt like a small island in the middle of nowhere. How these people had managed to survive here and make do was both impressive, and baffling. It was not like they heard any stories of the others venturing as far as those in Domino once had, nor did anyone show interest in asking them to do any of the dangerous work that would come that way. He had been told that there was an underground walkway somewhere around here, but that it was rarely used. Yet…they must have used it, if they still had enough to share with outsiders, smiles plastered on their faces. Was it just because they did not want to show their hand so soon? If that were the case, then what were they hiding?
That ash…yet no massive damage…unless it had been too late…
Maybe it was due to the years being unkind to him, but Bakura felt that something smelled fishy. It did not help that his younger companions were relaying the same concerns. He had to remain vigilant.
As he listened to his own footsteps shuffle along while he thought, he heard another pair on his heels. He figured that this was what had been needed. Nothing else had seemed to spur conversation.
He kept walking.
"Could I talk to you for a moment?" Wanatabe asked, as if finally mustering the will to speak. Bakura turned and slowed his pace to let the man catch up. For a man that had been so angry and vocal before, he certainly left a different impression with this display.
"Sure," Bakura said, but offered no more. He simply returned to his regular step and continued to walk, curious as to what they needed to talk about. The older man followed but did nothing to alleviate that curiosity. It seemed that whatever was on his mind still needed to be put into order. Bakura could understand that. They had time.
Not too much, but some.
And then it hit him. They both paused long enough to observe the burnt and broken bridge before them, one of the dangerous but plausible ways that those agile enough or familiar with the damage could wreak havoc on a burg that had meager walls at best, before they looked to each other and looked away. Bakura remembered Domino, his apartment, his job. He recalled the almost stifling control that weighed upon them all as they tried their best to make sense of the world, the first welcoming hand outside of his immediate acquaintances…the friendship.
"It's been a long time coming," Bakura said against the awkward silence. He rolled his shoulders against the cold and waited for the response.
"And it's been a long day," Wanatabe murmured distractedly.
The young man snorted. "You could say that again."
"…I once told you, you should be settling down."
Tilting his head towards the man, Bakura's face scrunched in incredulity at the statement. He found Wanatabe busily staring hard at the tarmac beneath their feet. The scene struck the young man as hysterical, the other's choice of words so random for the situation and spoken so long ago. A small giggle held in his throat before it burst forth as tired laughter. The other man's head rose briefly before tilting down again.
"That you did," Bakura said, still laughing quietly. "Can't say I'm there yet."
"No?"
"No." Their eyes connected and for once in a long while, both realized they were having an amicable conversation. "I have to make sure you find somewhere safe to start your life again, too."
"You think that's going to happen with who we're dragging along?"
"I'm not saying we have a perfect team. But…I know you know we are looking out for each other."
The man's head drooped again. "I…I'm sorry for the way I acted."
Bakura took in a deep breath. "While it's appreciated, don't worry about it."
"But—"
"I was angry," he clarified, "and we were hurt by your choices, but I can see where you were coming from. Even after we met again, I understand. So much has happened and honestly…everything hurts. What's important now, though, is that we survive this together."
'I can't stay mad forever,' he thought to himself. No one needed to remind him that it was all too easy to begin holding a grudge. 'I'm not that kind of person.'
At least, he hoped not.
Bakura had expected a nod of recognition, or a grunt of approval after his statement. A sign that they would let bygones be bygones. What he had not expected was to be pulled into a hug, or to hear Wanatabe's voice, thick with tears, plead—
"Keep my girl safe. She's all I have left. She's one of the only good things left in this world…I swear I'll do the same for yours—I swear it!"
Bakura wrapped his arms around the other's shaking shoulders and nodded. Really, he could understand. How many times had he been short with others—had threatened them—when his intentions had been only to protect D and Claire. "I promise."
He felt no pretense in the man's proclamation; and he meant those words with his very soul.
And the walk home that night cleansed him of any lingering regret to that vow. The chilling rain doused him, washing away the remnants of discontent as it trickled uncomfortably under his collar—reminding him that even now in all their uncertainty, no matter who would be around in the future, the children were warm and comfortable. They were and would be safe.
Bakura smiled up at a dark spot in the low hanging clouds, the stars peeking through the puncture, winking at him as if they shared some cosmic secret. He felt a momentary peace that even if things got rough, he ensured one thing would turn out alright. He winked back at the nothingness, then joined the others as they re-crowned Yugi as the true Game King.
He intended on spending the next few days with those most important to him. It had been too long.
"I found it."
The midday sun stung his exposed skin, yet not so terribly as the leather-bound book currently resting in his hand. Still, he held it firmly as he patiently waited for the elderly woman to shuffle around and face him. He understood that old joints took longer to turn (and oh did hers creak), but nonetheless he wished she would move faster. He could smell his skin begin to react poorly to her holy book. Never the best sign.
While his palm felt like he was holding a smoldering coal, the make of the object made him think of another book hidden amongst Bakura's things. An item he had not forgotten—one he intended to peruse soon and analyze what it contained. It all depended on when he would be able—when broached with even the hint of the subject of something hidden in his bag, Bakura had spun the conversation so quickly to something else, the boy had felt the proverbial whiplash.
"Oh, thank you, dear boy," the woman said, her voice cracking with an aged warble. It pulled him from his wandering thoughts, and having the book lifted from his grasp was so instantaneous he nearly gave himself away with a sigh of relief. Gratitude graced her face with a smile that made the annoyance of finding it under her porch seat after helping her comb through half of her house melt away. "I was worried I'd have to borrow one for the next service. But this one's been with me for so long, and so good to me…"
"It's no trouble, ma'am."
"But I know that I had you on a goose chase to—What happened to your fingers there?"
"It's paint," D replied, casually dipping his hand out of sight. "I was helping Mr. Hartley with the side of his house this morning."
"How sweet. Although, I tell you, it's a waste of time for him to keep going about painting that spot again and again. Also, a waste of paint, I say. He's one that'll never be satisfied."
"I wouldn't know, ma'am."
"Please call me Mrs. Page; we're to be neighbors now, so there's no need to treat me like a stranger."
"If it pleases you, Mrs. Page."
The older woman smiled and patted his shoulder with an arthritic hand. "It does. You're so polite, boy…I'd say a nice change of pace from the way some of our youngest act here—but I don't believe I've gotten your name."
"My name…" D clenched his hand, aware that while they had slipped back into regular use of their actual names when with each other, they had never fully expressed whether or not they were to use them with the locals. A lack of foresight, but he did not want to run the risk of being wrong. "Is Nobody."
"Nobody?"
"Yes, I'm Nobody."
"Nobody…?" She blinked in confusion as she repeated it again. "That can't be your name. What parent in their right mind would be so cruel to call their child Nobody?"
"I chose it."
"What?! Now why would you do a thing like that?"
"Because I felt it suited me," he stated. 'But mostly because I thought it was funny,' he admitted to himself.
'Yeah, because you're a real rib-cracker,' his hand projected, and D's eye twitched in annoyance. Although, the motion was not enough for the woman to notice.
However, she did not hide her feelings from him. Blue eyes lined with age filled with sorrow, and left the boy shifting from foot to foot in discomfort. "That's ridiculous. You are a somebody. A lovely boy, who is helpful and kind."
D remained silent, unsure of what to say. He had never considered someone would assume that his intent was self-deprecation when he had chosen his alias. It almost made him laugh. Of all the times he thought ill of himself, berated himself, this had not been one. His lips perked into a small smile amidst the embarrassment of his deeds being noticed. Helping people who appreciated it was not so bad.
"There now," the woman replied, her dismay dropped in an instant. "You ought to smile more often. It brightens more than just another's day when you do, you know."
"I'll keep that in mind, Mrs. Page." His eyebrow quirked up with a thought. A way to please the woman and cover his bases if he had assumed wrong prior. He doubted the intel would reach those who would be able to use it in time. It seemed like these folks kept far away from others like him. "If it makes you feel better, you could shorten it."
"Shorten it? How so?"
"…maybe just use the tail end of the word. Sounds like a nickname."
"Ody? Dy?" She inquired, and he offered a non-committal shrug, biting the inside of his lower lip to stop from smirking. If she could spread that around as her idea, it might work to have his name said aloud in company again without raising suspicion.
"If Nobody doesn't work, that would. D."
"I can't say that's much better, but at least you wouldn't be calling yourself a nobody."
D held back a response to that before nodding quickly and taking his leave. Perhaps it was not the politest ending to a conversation, but he did have another odd job he had promised to take care of before he had agreed to help Mrs. Page find her bible. Seeing her hide the lower half of her face to chuckle to herself, he doubted she had taken offense.
He had recalled how they had made nice with the southern town (alarming to think it was only months ago—it felt like ages), and how it had kept them in good standing for the short time they had been there. Since Bakura and the others would be busy with unloading the final crates, learning how this place functioned, and assessing the rest of the dangers, D had thought to help by beginning the process anew. It seemed like it was going well…
…but there was an odd feeling he was getting. One that he knew Claire had, and that Amami had yet to vocalize. Yet, without a word, he knew she felt it, too.
There was this almost suffocating tightness that held this community together. Something eager to snap, but what it was, the boy could not guess.
He was all too grateful that Bakura had not pooh-poohed the idea and had instructed the youngest to be on their guard. Clearly the man had reservations when directing them to this course of action, D would have had to have been blind to not see that dissatisfied look on his face, but he trusted them, had faith in them, and knew what skills they possessed. To the young boy, Bakura had not placed them in danger, but rather allowed them to play a behind the scenes role—offering them the respect that they felt they deserved, and satisfying the elder's guilty conscience (if only a little) that they would not be tempted to play a part on the front lines. This, D thought, was a fair assessment of the exchange. Then, Bakura had promised that they would all have some fun together soon. Something the boy had been longing to hear.
D hugged himself, allowing a personal, gleeful smile to wash across his face. They had hardly had enough time together as of late in his opinion.
He considered whistling a little tune as he wandered down the next block. A Mr. Smith had said he wanted help with harvesting what he had in his expanded garden. D had overheard his complaints the day prior as he had been putting his training to good use, eavesdropping as he mentally mapped the surrounding area. Thus, the idea to aid the adults further was born and he had offered his assistance. Mr. Smith had agreed and had even offered to share a few apples from his aged tree, something that D was positive that his human allies would appreciate. Fresh fruit and good publicity for the newcomers? It was a win-win!
By the end of it, the boy also ended up with a basket of squash and a cabbage to boot. Payment for his hard work, of course, and for his precision and speed. He also had been offered a handful of raspberries to try (the man's favorite—he was not sharing more than that) and thought they had been good. Although, he had preferred the pop of the blueberries from the other bush, transplanted the same year the world "had gone to rot" as the man put it. The man had regaled many tales of how his neighbors had thought he had been a bit obsessive with his garden and his wish for a grander yard, yet it was that very obsessiveness had saved many of them when hard times fell. Now, his pastime was a craft, and one he enjoyed sharing—almost as much as he enjoyed playing up a story as his own only to offhandedly mention it was actually his brother, or his old neighbor, or his co-worker, that experienced it.
And D, having had such a good time (and feeling—for a rare instance—that this was something he was naturally inclined), did not let that strange constricting feeling behind the man's words bother him in the least. Let that investigation wait until after everyone had enjoyed themselves on the bountiful harvest he helped reap. The man did not need to try and win him over, the plants had already done the proverbial talking for him. He cared for his own, and he thought of the town as his own to protect. A sweet sentiment. There was no need to sully it with that undercurrent of expecting some unknown thing in return.
The incoming afternoon light shone through the sparse, yet vibrant, leaves, inspiring the boy to hurry down the block faster. The radiance and pop of color painted a beautiful contrast against the dark clouds that smeared the rest of the sky with an artist's flourish. Bakura had promised he would be home around this time; Claire was already there, having to "reflect on her choices" for much of the day. D knew why and would have defended her—but Claire needed to learn that there was a sort of tact necessary when disagreeing with someone older, which was the very thing the boy was employing. Tact.
Saying certain people were boring was par for the course for her. Almost forgivable when paired with her concerns. However, calling said adult a "stupid ass" to his face was not exactly the brightest idea—especially in the company of the few adults she did have respect for. Even if he was being a bit obtuse.
So long as she behaved herself, though, she would be free for the rest of the day when Bakura arrived; and Amami had said her father was letting her go with them without any guilting stares. An improvement on his part to say the least.
Musing on whether the girls would laugh if he tried accentuating his fangs with apple slice tusks, he turned the corner only to snap back against the wall of the building he was beside. He heard a flurry of whispers, and one with a subject that he did not wish to disturb with his presence. He stared at the rocking cabbage on its perch atop the haphazard squash and willed it to remain still; the image of it rolling along the street would have been comical if it were any other circumstance.
"—a good boy, though I can't say as much for the company around him," the voice of Mrs. Page echoed down the cramped street.
"Oh, I know," a voice D did not recognize commiserated. "While some seem like fine people, there's a rough sort in that lot."
"They're asking lots of strange questions, too. As if the most of us care to think on what's happened in the past."
"It's bad enough that it happened."
"Exactly!"
"And did you hear?" A new voice crowed. A trio then. "Some of the new folk are even saying that theirs was an odd bunch when they sprung up in their old town."
"Is that so?"
"Yes! And that they call themselves by strange names. Code names. Sounds worrisome."
"Well, I can't say I care much about what they call themselves, but no child should be called a Nobody," Mrs. Page pontificated.
A pair of gasps filled the air. D silently drew his own in. "No! They didn't!"
"They must have. No child in their right mind would be calling themselves something like that. I think the poor boy is covering for them. Maybe, he's afraid of them?"
"Every one of them seems so happy, though…"
"But is that enough?"
"You can't fake that sort of closeness."
"And the children seem well-adjusted enough," Mrs. Page said, her voice wavering in her conviction. "Still not right."
"Listen to yourselves. I love how you two go from being up in arms to chummy with them all in an instant."
"I could just be making a rash assumption. Perhaps they're not as frightening as they seem?"
"They're still so strange…"
"Hasn't the past taught us anything at all?" The third voice rose, silencing the other two. "We thought that man had been just another one of us—"
"Don't bring that up!" Mrs. Page cried. "My poor little Robert was in on that whole mess. I don't want to remember it."
D stood frozen, box in his hand as the women continued straight down the lane, unaware of his presence. He trailed them with his eyes as they continued, preparing to slowly side-step away from the situation, cursing himself for ever opening his mouth in the first place. They took one little bit of irrelevant information and just ran with it. It was baffling as much as it was frightening.
"Yes, don't distress Maggie," the second voice said, belonging to a plump older woman with a face as friendly-looking as everyone else. "It was terrible what they had to do. Just awful."
"Do you think that's what they might be asking after?" The third one hissed. The youngest of the three to be sure, but still pushing a few years past Graham. The boy thought that she might have been Mrs. Page's neighbor a few houses down, but that information was irrelevant to him now. "They know what was done?"
"How would they have gotten into contact?"
"They have a plane!"
"A plane means nothing if they can't contact a soul."
"There were others! You think Paul was going to go blabbering about that when they had him at their mercy? There might be more here, too!"
"I'll hear no more of it!" Mrs. Page snapped. "This is not the time or place to speak of it. What if one of them was listening?!"
"So, you think they are—"
"I'm simply stating that I do not trust the ones who go by strange names. Nor am I fully convinced they are fit to take care of those children. Flying them all the way from New—"
And they left his view, turning down another street, off for an afternoon walk. D let out a gasp that sounded more like a sigh, his mind already racing with what he had heard. Paul…was that the name of the man who had been in charge of the attack when they had first arrived? What had happened to this place? What had they "had to do"?
D hurried back to the inn, not so interested in playing any longer. Nothing was concrete, all had been hearsay, but something was seriously off—more so than what he had considered before. "There were others". A problematic phrase to say the least.
Nor was he alone in having these new revelations.
"Our guys are going to ruin this for us," Mai muttered into the high collar of her jacket, shaking her head. "When we said figure out what's going on, I didn't mean ask so many questions that it makes the other side distrustful."
"It's not all of them," Anzu said as she tugged her heavy coat tighter for insulation. The afternoon had just passed its warmest period, and the temperature was dropping fast. Yet the woman did not think that the incoming cloud cover signaled snow just yet, which was good news. They needed the poor weather to hold off a little longer if they were to leave before winter seized them in its clutches.
"No, but when we decided who would do the asking, I didn't think half of us would screw it up so bad."
"…"
"Glad you agree with me."
"I don't think the damage is permanent," Anzu sighed. "And I don't think it was anyone's fault. Based on what I heard, the questions that were asked were just ones of mild curiosity."
"Mild curiosity, when pressed too often, makes many people worry."
"I know. But I don't think that their questions were the only factor. Just with our little neighborhood stroll, its pretty clear who these people think the weirdos are."
"At least our general population is taking well to the change."
"I would hope. It's what they wanted, wasn't it?"
"Maybe it's best if we do leave sooner, then. We can be out of their hair and draw less attention to their differences."
"That's if everyone else is in agreement."
"You think Yugi isn't?"
They paused their conversation and passed on bright salutations in English to a few locals taking part in a similar activity. The others waved back just as happily and went on their way without any side-eyeing glances. Anzu held her grin far longer than Mai, whose expression dropped the instant her face was turned away from the others.
"Two-faced little bastards," she seethed. Anzu bumped her with her elbow, a sign of warning that could be misinterpreted as play.
"They could be one of the regular people here, you know," the brunette offered.
"Yeah, they could," Mai said, untensing her shoulders. "The first I've met then."
"It isn't that bad."
"Hmph. When I feel safer in a city that is riddled with vampires, I think it just might be."
"You felt safer there?" Anzu asked.
"At least I knew what to expect."
"Weren't you in charge of a city at one point? One that wasn't always too friendly?"
"That was different. And the people there were different, too," Mai countered.
Anzu eyed her incredulously. "Didn't Bakura say—"
"We were cautious because all of the water outside was disappearing and we were being attacked by what we eventually found out to be aliens," she defended. "Also, I know what he said, I was there."
"And?"
"It…was accurate. But this is—different." The woman shook her head. "I don't know how to explain it, but this just doesn't feel right. We were cautious, and some of us distrustful—but our community was honest with how we felt."
"You must miss them."
Mai smiled ruefully. "I do. But I had to keep them safe, and in the end, it brought me somewhere else that I know I belong. I'm glad I was able to find you guys again, no matter how it happened." Then, blowing a little stream of air now visible in the chill, she added, "Now don't get too cocky; you knew your speeches worked on me years ago."
"Oh, come on, they weren't speeches. They were pep-talks."
"Pep talks, ha!" Mai snorted, before slowing to a stop beside a rounded building. She glanced up at the sign and blinked introspectively, then faced the unassuming entrance before them.
Anzu waited beside her, finding the mint-like roof a nice contrast to the red of the bricks. Some part of her wished for the past, modified. She imagined Yugi and her little one joining her in sightseeing in a city they had never been to. They would take pictures, go eat at the restaurants that everyone recommended, send treats home before they continued a wonderful vacation. A sweet dream dashed by the reality of the empty roads, long cleared of cars and busses. She could only be grateful for who she had, and that they were cozy at home on this fickle-weathered day.
"Why do you think no one bothers with this walkway?" Mai wondered aloud.
Anzu shrugged. Standing there for a moment, each let out a sigh of discontentment. So many questions, and so little answers. Mai tapped her foot on the grey brick, as if waiting for a sign. Anzu shifted under her coat, pursing her lips. The two peered into the darkened doorway. A bird twittered from its perch. Conversations hushed by distance filled the rest of the room that silence left. The question burned in their minds.
As if on cue, they both looked to each other, their eyes taking on a glint of sly curiosity. With a natural toss of her hair, Mai looked to her right. Anzu plucked a nonexistent fuzz from her left shoulder, surveying that area. They both looked back, and then over each other's shoulder, before hurrying into the tunnel.
It was a disquieting experience. Uncertain of what they had expected, the light seemed to abruptly cut off when they managed to find their way into the tunnel proper. When Anzu looked to her to turn back—the two barely visible to one another—Mai only shook her head and motioned to the inner lining of her jacket. From it, she procured a small flashlight, which she promptly clicked on and motioned for her friend to follow.
The thin beam of light provided them with a snapshot of the half-circled tunnel, their minds having to connect the pieces; Mai slowly weaved the flashlight back and forth, trying to create the panorama they needed for moving forward. Their footsteps echoed against the uneven ground, the sound trapped by the painted brick of the walls and rounded ceiling of the long tunnel. The pipes that ran above their heads reminded Mai of a movie she had watched, and she would have joked about searching for a lever, if the smell had not caught her attention.
"What the hell is that?" she asked, grimacing in disgust. Having dealt with the world as it was now, putrid scents were almost a given, something she was used to. Yet, in this tunnel, the stench was amplified, and the two came to separate realizations that the faint displeasing scent that had struck them early on had not been any mold or dead rat.
"I don't know," Anzu replied, covering her mouth with her hand. "You don't think—"
"Maybe."
"Then we should—"
"I'm not turning around," Mai said. She hid her face under the thick fabric as she buttoned up her jacket all the way. "I've got to know what's going on here. But you probably should."
"I'm not leaving you." Anzu took a few cautious steps forward and removed her hand from her face for an instant, letting the smell hit her with its full force once again. The mere idea of what it could be sent shivers down her spine. "Not when this could go bad."
Mai nodded and the two continued creeping down the tunnel, aware that the stench was getting worse, and that it had a mix of old and new. Anzu coughed into her hand, trying to hold back a gag. Decay surrounded them, even if nothing was visible yet, worsening every step they took forward. Mai squinted against the distressed film of tears in her eyes, then blinked. She pinched her nose, her collar unable to save her from the bulk of it. Lifting her flashlight higher, she looked to the top of the tunnel once more, half expecting to see rotted plant life trying and failing to survive in a lightless world. Yet all was fine. Dry, even.
"Dammit this flashlight is too small," she whispered, not wanting to waste air and have to breathe in the evidence of great decomposition. Even though the ceiling looked fine, she could not tell what they were passing, if they were passing anything.
"Can't take much more," Anzu hissed quickly. Although the dim hid it well, her cheeks were flushed with the strain of holding in her breath. "Let's turn around. Prepare. See it later."
"Not turning around," she said obstinately. She flicked the light down to just in front of them, turning her head to tell Anzu to turn back. Only instead of seeing a pleading look for a swift return, she saw the shine in the woman's eyes alight to a great terror. Mai's own eyes widened, and she slowly turned back to where the light rested.
In her time as one of the Counsel, she had been privy to plenty unpleasantries. They had acted as judge, jury, and executioner for many of the most devious infractions that people tried to get away with in a world gone asunder. She had given the command for the very type of thing Bakura and the children had been so frightened of when they had been dragged into that small underground world. However, even for all of that, for knowing that being in charge left one to do many abhorrent things for the sake of their community—
—she had never seen anything quite like this.
"Don't scream," Mai shushed the other woman before she could draw breath to do so. "They'll know."
'They'll know we know,' she thought, unable to stop herself from taking a breath of that putrefaction. She heard Anzu fight and fail against the very same impulse.
Bodies lined the tunnel, creating a barrier of sorts. Bodies drenched in blood, oozing, desiccated, or half charred, stacked upon one another like macabre bricks. Limbs free of bodies acted as restraining bars, tied to ensure that the mass did not slide outward in a formless heap. The shaking stream of light showed as it was lifted further, that the organic wall reached the ceiling. There was one area just to their left that acted like a minor tunnel of its own, and Mai, thoroughly aware of the trouble they had stumbled upon, inched toward it.
"No!" Anzu cried, her exclamation strained in her attempt to be quiet. "We've seen enough, let's go!"
"We don't know the reason yet," Mai replied curtly.
"But—"
"We can't be sure that there wasn't some reason for this." And she hoped there was. For as distrustful as she felt toward the citizens of this place, she desperately wanted them to not have had to stoop to this without a valid reason. Otherwise, where exactly had they landed?
With this thought in mind, she hurried forward, taking care not to bump into or step on the remains of these individuals. She could feel Anzu growing distant, still debating on her own course of action, before the woman relented and ran after her. When her fingers brushed upon Mai's free hand, the women could not help but hold tight to one another against their growing horror.
The small corridor was much longer than they had anticipated, and acted as a clear answer to why, even for having been an attachment to a large city, the mini-isle's population seemed so stunted. At first, the two wondered if this had been the doing of the vampire the people had taken down. However, as they breathlessly plunged deeper into the decaying cavern, they saw no puncture marks on any of the visible necks. Only crosses carved into their flesh.
If anything, the only thing of note was that the decay worsened as they went along. The further in, the older the corpses were.
When they reached the end, they were greeted by a large wooden plank acting as a door. Mai turned to Anzu, who clearly disagreeing with her own choice, nodded her head. The woman cautiously moved the obstruction aside and was greeted with another empty corridor. They had reached the end of the blockage.
"Now what?" Anzu asked, shivering, albeit not due to the cold. It was oddly warm within the bodied tunnel. "What exactly has this shown us?"
"I'm not sure yet…" Mai confessed, looking around for any sign for why this had been done. She found it, literally, as she faced the other side of the human wall and saw a board with hurriedly painted text. She motioned for Anzu to come closer and the two moved to investigate.
Attached to the remains of a man whose face was contorted, frozen in his last throes of agony, the nailed sign read—
"All Unholy, look upon this and suffer.
All allies to the Unholy, look upon this wall in warning.
There will be no quarter for those who turn to the Devil.
No matter what the date, every betrayer will get their comeuppance."
Underneath all of this, a very ornate cross was drawn.
"These…" Anzu began, a shaky hand reaching up for the man's strung up limbs, drawing the lines of the wounds on his bloodless skin in the air just above them. Due to a mix of watching Yugi's mother work, and her own experiences fighting battles, she could recognize defensive wounds when she saw them. This world had forced this skill upon her. The pattern sprung upon her as easily as a choreographed dance step to her mind. It was the same for what she could see of the others. Her hand slowly drooped back to her side.
"Yeah," Mai agreed. She could see the signs as well, literal and figurative. "It looks desperate, like if—"
"—they were caught unaware," Anzu finished, her voice shaking.
The two women looked to each other in horror, now fully aware of how carefully they must tread. It was not just the three they could turn against—being "afflicted" in some unsavory way by their standards—but all of them.
And for what? Allies could mean a great many things…if one was zealous enough.
They did not need to know who this poor young man was to grasp the gravity of their predicament, although it was pressed onto his work shirt by means of an iron-on. All they knew was this had been someone that had been a part of the community. Someone that had been "allied" in the wrong way. A friend. A family member.
In their horrified silence, they felt a great pity for the individual named "Robert" and the death he had suffered.