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

So, at first, I had a health thing I had to take care of. Now...I do run the slight chance of having more time than expected for creative endeavors. I can't make promises, but I'll do what I can to update at least once more this month so I can get closer to the end of this. As always, if you want to share anything about how you feel about this story, feel free to let me know!

Anyway, Enjoy!

Chapter Fifty-Three: Breathe

D lifted the handball; its rough, rubbery texture the only thing registering to his senses as his mind flew around in scattered thought. He had yet to tell anyone what he had heard, but while it worried him greatly, the excitement from the other children gearing up to play had convinced him to wait until later to bring it up. Nothing mentioned presented an immediate cause for alarm—just another addition to an already wary intuitive sense. Unfortunately, his mind failed to push it aside in favor of the game. The ball went wide, bouncing with a ping against the concrete, and just a few inches shy of his shuffling target.

"And…that was a clear miss."

"Finally!" Claire shouted in glee. Her joy was short lived, however, when she sensed her win had been caused by distraction. Too excited to be free from the confines of her room, she had originally failed to note her friend's look of concern as he returned with his load of food. Nor had she been the only one.

Amami was wrapped up in the joy of freely hanging out with her friends without her father's displeasure hanging on her back. She could not be sure why he had suddenly changed his opinion, other than perhaps it was not so sudden, but she would not be one to question such a gift. Also, it pleased her to see that others had taken to gardening in this metropolis as well, and she was excited to try the fresh produce. The stack of the late autumn yield reminded her of their attempts in Domino City and brought up fond memories to add to the day. There was no surprise as to why she might not have noticed the near-imperceptible distress on the boy's unmoving face.

D blinked, shaken out of his thoughts by his surprising failure. He noted Bakura's assessing gaze and to save them all from the discomfort he still felt, he called back benignly, "You still can't hit me, though."

His unemotional taunt hit Claire worse than if he had made a face at her and shouted the words. For a moment she could forget the building concern she had for him. "Oh, you wait! You're going to eat rubber today!"

D's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly; the corner of his lip flickered into a smirk. 'Bring it,' his look appeared to say. The girl snatched the ball from Bakura's waiting hands and chucked it straight at the boy's face.

Amami stifled a peal of high-pitched laughter with her hands when the boy shifted his head just enough that the ball whizzed past it. It let off its rubbery sound once again, skidding upon the ground only to bounce harmlessly to the other end of the street. Claire's fury darkened her cheeks with its fire as she traded places with the other girl. Bakura shook his head in amusement at the display while he acted as the moderator, collecting the ball from its resting place at the edge of a low wall. He tossed it over to D, who still reigned supreme in this particular game.

"One day!" she marked, pointing a finger in the boy's direction.

"Maybe," D conceded. There were a lot of factors in place, and nothing was absolute. Not even his skill. His humility took some of the heat from her actions and left her to only cross her arms as she waited for her turn again.

"D has five wins as of right now," Bakura called, holding the ball over his head. They all mentally tucked away the tally and readied themselves for the next game. "Although that last one was a close one. Round one of Game Six begins now!"

He tossed the ball to Amami, who brought it close to her chest, nearly huddling over it. Even without the boy's uncanny abilities, Bakura could see the dead giveaways that the girl presented. She clearly considered her cleverness to hide the general trajectory a grand feat, but the way her shoulders shuffled showed just where she intended to throw it. Regardless of this knowledge and her impending loss, the young man laughed along with all of them when she flung the ball with all her might and spun with the force. D remained untouched, although he was doubled over clutching his sides, wheezing at her attempt.

Their smiles acted as the perfect de-stressor to the very tense pressure he was under, being one of the adults. By no means was he living vicariously; he simply enjoyed that their time was not as bogged down with the awkward encounters and ever-present stares. Also, that strange, disconcerted look had finally disappeared from the boy's face. His joy above all left Bakura in a better mood. Any good memory that he could offer these children, especially D, lightened some the unpleasantness that he had to shoulder.

Considering himself, Bakura felt that he had been acting relatively normal for all his unspoken misgivings. Thus, the growing strange and penetrating looks he received while walking innocently down the street that morning—intensifying throughout the afternoon—had thrown him off. Had he let something slip? Had one of their own done something to make their hesitant hosts worry now? Or had he been correct…were they just waiting for him, or any of his ilk to misstep so that they could celebrate a defeat of some unknown and unspeakable evil. For as honest as the squad they had run into that first unpleasant night had been regarding their meeting with vampires, they certainly seemed disinterested in elaborating on their methods.

'They don't trust you,' a voice nagged in the back of his mind.

"Of course not," Bakura muttered under his breath in response. He jogged away from the children to collect the ball that was now rolling down the street. 'We've already established that,' he added in thought. That voice sounded clearer, sharper somehow; yet he had not asked for it to surface.

'The spirit's getting stronger, perhaps?' he reasoned with himself, mentally blocking the voice from this inner discussion. The more practice he had, the more confident he was that he would not fall into the same trap, like he had in his youth. 'Is it the proximity? I don't think so—I'm not that much closer to the source…either way, I need to be careful.'

Yet, allowing that remnant of a being back into his thoughts had a soothing quality, and it did not hurt to be reminded that he had to take care when dealing with people that left him disquieted just by look alone.

He allowed for the conversation to continue, but one-way this time. He had been rude to interrupt. Perhaps the voice had something useful to add. Plus, he preferred when the spirit spoke. Bakura had always considered himself the quiet kind when it came to conversation.

'So, Paul is in charge. Funny. He tried not to make a big deal of it the day you met him. Said he was just leading that group. Everyone else listens to him though, and now they've got eyes on you. You all showed how you handle situations. You helped solve the…disagreement…of course—but not with their consent. Not that they would have let you anyway. If you, or any of those idiots, had let them go about their way, you would be dead. Think of those scratches.

Weren't they strange?'

They had been. Bakura could not explain it, but something about the way he recalled the setup of the inside of that airport felt off to him. Like a trap.

'Maybe they trapped that thing,' the voice offered. 'Maybe that vampire trusted them, knew them. Maybe it was friendly…like D.'

Bakura mentally backed away from the thought, stopping in reality. It would not happen. Bakura refused to even consider that the boy's cover would be blown, and he would be put into such a situation. Why else was he remaining so vigilant?

'Wipe that frown off of your face before you scare that brat.'

That earned a response. 'He's not a brat,' Bakura snapped, but did as the voice instructed.

Forcing his face to mimic one of neutrality left him with another thought. There was a chance that everyone was staring at him for a reason. He could be frowning. While he did not think he had committed such a grievous error, he had not realized he had been doing so as he powerwalked to the fleeing toy. If he failed to recognize that, what other natural tics was he unaware of? Such things could pose a problem. He needed to watch himself better.

Hurrying down the street after the errant ball he overheard the gleeful words of good-natured teasing based on their mistakes. Their jokes and giggles brightened his mood once more, and he willingly shoved aside his newest worry. Bending to finally capture the fleeing object, he caught sight of a returning figure. A quick smile spread across his face as he waved to Simon, noticing a peculiar shape in his hand. His brow furrowed in confusion as he hugged the ball to himself.

"Why is he carrying a spray bottle?" he wondered aloud.

"It's a gift," Simon said, a few minutes later while their mini community filed into the inn. With the arrival of the shivering man and his strange accoutrement, they recognized the wintry grasp of the cold in their own bodies and clothes. Without a shred of disappointment, the children called off their game and rushed in, ready to warm up as best they could before dinner was served. However, they all slowed when Simon motioned for the abrasive girl to stop. Claire raised an eyebrow and then her hands to accept the plastic container from him, eyeing the man warily. She shook her unexpected present, watching the clear liquid slosh at the top. The bottle was nearly full.

"What is it?" she asked. Amami, freed from her curiosity by a freezing breeze, hurried past her into the cozy main room while D hung back with Bakura. Both were interested to know what the gesture was all about, although Bakura had a sneaking suspicion. He hid a grin behind a motion to scratch his nose.

"Holy water," the bespectacled man replied. "And with it, you are prepared now. So, knock it off."

"How'd you get holy water?" she asked, and to the relief of her other companions, appeared to ignore the reprimand that had been thinly veiled as a joke.

"What, you don't believe me?"

Her eyebrow practically disappeared under her fading purple bangs. "Did you believe me when I said I was sorry the first time?"

The look on the man's face showed he still did not quite believe it. Bakura rolled his eyes. Leave it to these two to ruin what could have been a sweet gesture. He moved up and placed a hand on Claire's shoulder, giving Simon a smile—his brown eyes flashing a warning for the other to stop while he was ahead. D watched the whole exchange, and in his silence wondered if the future would hold more of these contentious displays. He frowned at the thought; he did not like how it muddied up his memories of their most recent playtime.

"It was nice of you, Simon," Bakura offered serenely. "I'm positive Claire appreciates it."

"Yeah," Claire said with a begrudging sigh. Her response surprised both adults, although one more so than the other. The girl swirled the liquid inside, her expression one of an internal debate. "I'm gonna mark it with something, though. The last thing I want is for someone to go using it thinking it's some kind of cleaner."

"It is in a way," D said, unable to help himself. Unfortunately, he appeared to have said his sarcastic joke too strait-laced. No one had laughed. If anything, his statement had garnered strange looks.

"It's because you're not funny," his left appendage pipped up. D glared at his hand, his mind hissing all-too-real threats its way. Simon started at the strange, incorporeal voice, the color draining from his face. Even though they had traveled far together, the boy had tried to keep up normal appearances, and the being in his hand had made few, if any, noticeable manifestations as of late in front of anyone out of his most immediate circle.

"Jesus Christ!" the man exhaled, unable to help himself from the instant reaction. Bakura rolled his eyes and sighed while D shoved the offending hand in his pocket and gave an apologetic shrug. Claire giggled at the whole exchange, however most of her focus stayed trained on her new prize.

"Is everything okay?" Amami called from within, poking her head out from around the corner. Bakura tilted his head in the direction of the startled man and gave her a quick smile to show all was well.

"'s fine," Simon breathed, his hand resting just over his heart. He let out a derisive laugh that fell somewhere between self-mockery and nerves.

The girl cocked her head. "You sure?"

"He's sure," Claire replied for the adult, and grabbed D's free wrist to drag him inside. "Lemme show you the gift he got me!"

"Gift? What gi—the spray bottle?" he asked, as nervous as he was amused at how thoroughly she gripped the plastic shell. She had realized he had been there when it had been unveiled, right?

"No. It's what's in it. Come on, D!" she exclaimed and tugged harder. "Us kids have to talk."

"Do we?" the boy asked, glancing back at the others. While what she wished to say just amongst them could prove insightful, his mind floated once more to the unpleasant discussion he had overheard on his way home. Maybe he should say something now. The mood was better for it.

"Yeees. About…kid stuff."

With a final tug, he relented and let himself be guided to their bedroom. He offered a departing nod to Bakura, who nodded back in kind. Obviously, Claire wanted to share something in private—or maybe she read something in Bakura's smile that tipped her off to hurry away. Either way, D followed.

Later then. He would say something later.

Bakura kept his pleasant expression set until he could hear the muffled conversation of children from the other room commence in earnest. He felt that they would be safe enough with the gift of such a solution—D would not foolishly test the water upon himself, and Claire would not want to waste such precious liquid if it was indeed what Simon had stated it was. Amami was safe regardless. She just had to be in the know.

Aware of this, and confident they could no longer see him, he let his smile drop. "Nice, Simon," he harangued, offering him a side-eye.

"What?" the man inquired, having recovered from his shock.

"What? What was that? First you somehow manage to botch a perfectly nice extension of peace, and then you go and make a big deal out of something you've been made aware of before. It's not like it bites." He all but glared at the man next to him. "Are you trying to bring everyone and their neighbor to come see what's the matter?"

"It was an accident," Simon replied, equally annoyed. "I was just surprised."

"Just surprised can get us killed just as quickly."

"Stop being so doom and gloom," the blonde said dourly, shoving his glasses up his nose. Bakura watched him stalk off to the kitchen area and took a deep breath before following him. He was right. Being high-strung and agitated was not going to help the situation. However, neither was being careless.

"It was a sweet gesture," Bakura offered, trying to diffuse the situation. "I think she liked it."

"Didn't seem much like it."

The young man shook his head. Had he been present for the same exchange that Bakura saw? "I don't get why you two aren't getting along."

Simon laughed. "Really? Is it that shocking? She has no manners whatsoever."

"You didn't help the situation, though," Bakura stated. "Claire can be a bit abrasive; you have been around her long enough to know that. But you also have been around long enough that you should see the good in her, too. I mean, you two used to get along." He paused, rubbing his lower lip in thought. How to approach the topic without instigating an argument? Every emotion seemed to be at the brink in that small room, whether from the pressure of foreseen issues, or the unforeseen. The young man was at a loss as to how to navigate it, but he tried, nonetheless. "You're thinking she's not like D."

"Well, yeah. She's not."

"No kid is going to be quite like D. That'd be impossible. You were a kid once, right?"

"You really about to lecture me?"

"No. I'm asking you to see sense. Measuring her actions against how you can interact with D isn't fair in the first place; you haven't seen him misbehave much or to the extent he has before. On top of that, you and Claire clearly have offended each other. Over what, I can only guess, but it should be you that takes the high road."

"I was."

"I don't know…it doesn't feel like you're trying."

"I did try, just now," the other replied, barely containing his anger. "And over what should be obvious. She's sticking her nose where she shouldn't."

Bakura's eyes narrowed. "You did a poor job of it."

"Yeah, well, maybe she needs a stricter method than yours to learn to act like a decent person, too."

Knowing it was meant to be a barb, Bakura let it roll off him before it sunk its inflammatory spines into him. This was not the time to be arguing with each other. He mentally repeated the fact like a mantra as he prepared to speak once more. They were already on shaky ground. It was his turn to stay calm. "I'm not going to argue whether or not I was ready to be a parent to upcoming pre-teens, but I can tell you with confidence that your method isn't working either—Regardless of that," he said, waving away Simon's attempt at another jab, "We should make dinner. Most everyone's going to be home soon, and I don't want them to feel like they have to wait for something that should have already been done."

The man opened his mouth as if to counter, and then closed it; his expression showed signs of an internal quarrel. After a brief moment, he took in a regulatory breath and said, "I guess. It is getting dark."

With a wash of relief, Bakura beamed at the man. He hoped the worst of the mood was over now, and that everyone could appreciate each other's company rather than get on everyone's back over the slightest infraction. He mentally chastised himself with a personal inclusion to the thought. He had been no better.

They began preparing the fresh produce for a meal in comfortable silence, listening to the hushed sounds of the children conversing in the other room. They could not make out what was being said, but the occasional set of giggles comforted Bakura enough that everything was alright on their end.

"It's sweet that this Mr. Smith guy gave all of this stuff to D," Simon said, marveling at the amount they had been gifted.

"D's good at helping out," Bakura replied, slicing the squash into cubes. He was considering making some sort of stew; something warm to chase the chill of the day away.

"Yeah. Hey, there's this guy by the ferry that says he knows a good place to fish. Maybe I could have him show me and take the kids there. I mean, if they're all worried about helping."

"Maybe," Bakura agreed. He found he was having trouble cutting the ripened gourd and tested the blade on the pad of his thumb. The metal was so dull he was comfortable pressing hard enough to leave an indent on his skin. Sighing, he began looking for something to sharpen it with. "I think they'll be antsy regardless. At least Claire and D will be. They're just waiting for the sign to go."

"Well," Simon fumbled, as if unsure of how to word his statement, "We don't exactly have to go, right?"

Bakura stopped abruptly in his search. "What?"

"It's not like it's terrible here, right? And if they get to know us, they'll see there's nothing to worry about. It makes sense that everyone is so jumpy; we're all going through a lot of changes."

"And D?"

"He's good at hiding it. I'm sure we could think of something."

With his brow creasing in concern, Bakura faced the other man. "Hiding it forever will be an impossibility. He needs a place where he doesn't have to hide. Also, there's something else to consider." The young man hesitated, drumming his fingers on the side of the open cabinet. "What about this bad feeling I'm having?"

Simon waved at the air as if dusting his concerns away. "You're just nervous. You were like this in the last place, too."

"For a different reason," Bakura scoffed. "One misstep or misspoken phrase and we were all dead. I had to pretend to be a different person entirely to make sure they had nothing on me to compare to."

"It's not exactly like that here. I mean, come on, they got rid of the problem."

Bakura glared at the kitchen floor until the lines coated with years of grit lost focus, his mini-quest for the sharpener long forgotten. "I don't know about that."

"Exactly," Simon replied with a jovial laugh. "We don't know that they did, or if they didn't. We can't possibly know. Jumping to conclusions can be just as bad. You don't want to be like one of those people in the place I came from, right? We aren't going to let a little prejudice get in the way."

"It's not a prejudice; it is a concern that they will discriminate against my kid and kill us all," Bakura rumbled, desperately trying not to raise his voice.

"That's not fair to say! You don't know that they will!"

"And you don't know either!" Bakura mentally cursed himself for his exclamation. It only fanned the flames more.

"Listen to yourself! You can't act like that just because of a little 'feeling'! We won't ever know what's on their minds unless we stayed here long enough to know. And anyway, what is so readily known about leaving? That place you want to go to so bad—but still haven't told me the damn name! I thought you said you didn't want to drag D into this shit. Taking him wherever you 'feel' like you need to go is doing just that!"

Bakura reeled back as if slapped. He would not have been able to explain it, but that outburst felt like a betrayal of trust. That information was meant for their ears only. Not the ones that undoubtedly caught them even as they listened to their own private conversation. To repair his wounded dignity, he forced back the tears that threatened, cleared his throat, and tried to reason with the man calmly.

"I told you Graham agreed, right? That means something, right?"

Simon gave him a swift non-committal gesture, choosing instead to focus on busying himself with pulling down the necessary dishes for their dinner. Bakura watched him, tugging on a lock of his white hair. He wished Mai and Anzu would return from their observation of the area, and their covert people watching. Jounochi and Yugi would be coming home late—there was no hope in putting off or receiving backup in this conversation from them.

"I picked up some necessities. A fire-starting kit, a few more canteens full of clean water. Emergency provisions," Bakura continued, biting his lip while trying to quietly sniff. His whole face stung with his sorrow and self-pity, and he hated it.

"What'd you barter?" Came the semi-disinterested response.

"Some of our extra batteries."

"You didn't think we'd need those?"

"There's a chance that if we hit water that—"

"Why would anyone hit water?" Simon snapped, his body pivoting with great speed to face the other, his disbelief palpable.

"You never know," Bakura shrugged. "There's no need to get cross with me."

"I'm not."

"You're angry at the very least."

"Angry? Angry? Of course, I'm angry!" Simon exclaimed, slamming a plate on the counter with a clatter. "You aren't even considering what I said."

Bakura's jaw set. He swallowed down the ball in his throat and rounded his shoulders back. "I'm not staying," he said flatly, his decision as unmoving as his stance. "I never was."

"But why?!" Simon cried in frustration. "Just because of some bad 'feeling'—"

"I'm glad you like these people, Simon. I really am. If you want to remain with them, start a life here, I wouldn't fault you for it in the least. You're allowed to have your own dreams, and I wouldn't want to deter you from them, either. That wouldn't be fair," Bakura said, taking in a steadying breath. Internally, he felt like such a bastard; knowing he had been prepared for this moment since the day they left the ruins of that farmhouse. Words that should have been difficult to utter came so easily. His resolute tone rang through the ears of one who would never forget just how they were said, the moment pivotal in their development. Unknowingly, this discussion would set a precedent for all the observer's interactions from then on. "Still, I'm not staying."

The pain in Simon's eyes made Bakura regret his phrasing, but the message was still the same and would have been, no matter how gently he put it. He had not forgotten what he had warned the sandy-haired man of; nor did he hesitate to remind Simon of where his allegiance lay. Unlike a certain spirit, he had no interest in toying with others—yet, he did fail miserably in seeing how similar he acted to said being through a different lens.

"It will be nice to stop when it's over," Bakura added, the words laced with exhaustion. "I'll live my life then. But…only when what I need to do is over. It's nowhere near that."

"But—"

At that moment, the front door swung open and a harried Mai and Anzu tore into the entryway, Zoe following close behind. Bakura and Simon jolted to attention and ran to meet the returning band at the sound of Mai all but slamming the door behind her. Anzu gulped in air as if she was experiencing oxygen for the first time. Zoe, in her quiet way, surveyed the pair that emerged from the kitchen and shook her bandaged head in disgust, as if aware of what transpired and all too ready to express her disapproval. Both men gave each other a glance that induced a silent truce and focused their attention on their distressed compatriots. At the last moment, with a premonition and almost instinctive reaction, Bakura flicked his wrist toward the bedroom. Amusement blossomed within him as a quiet click signaled that the eavesdropping children had ceased their nosiness as quickly as they had begun. Now, he thought, steeling himself, to find out what the issue was.

"We have a problem," Mai stated, her fingernails digging deep rivulets into her jacket saying more than her words.

"Bigger than I initially thought, apparently," Zoe mused. She cocked her head, glanced around the entrance, then turned to the two men. "Where are the others?"

"Jounochi-kun won't be back until later," Anzu quickly informed in their stead, jittery with adrenaline from what she had seen. Her face twisted in sorrow and disgust. "Oh, it was awful. Where's Yugi-kun? Etsu-chan?"

"Yugi took her to his mother," Bakura replied, surprised she did not know. "He wanted to give Jounochi back up—"

"What?!"

"Calm down," Zoe said, placing a hand on Anzu's shoulder. "That much I can clear up for you. I saw your little girl earlier today when I was discharged. She's fine."

"But Yugi—" Anzu cried, tugging away from the gesture.

"What's going on?" Simon interrupted with a bit of impatience. Impatience hiding concern, Bakura knew, but he could see Mai's expression darken even as she answered him. It filled him with a sense of foreboding, unable to place a finger on its true origins.

"They're killing people here," she replied curtly. "Even people hinting at being friendly with certain folk—if you catch my meaning."

"I can't say I do."

"People like Otogi-kun!" Anzu hissed, cupping her hands like the walls had shifted into paper. "And D-kun! They had that whole walkway filled! Floor to ceiling!"

"A whole walkway," Bakura repeated, horrified.

Simon appeared as disturbed as he, but still tried to reason with his next few words. "We knew they were going after vampires, though. That isn't new."

"No," Anzu said with a shake of her head, "you don't get it. Even those sympathetic!"

"We can't be sure of that."

"We are. They wrote as much on their little letter of warning," Mai snarled in disgust. She moved to the window and peered through the curtains, searching for anyone about in the streets. Satisfied no one lurked outside, she turned back to them. "Pinned to one of the outward-facing dead. It doesn't take a great leap to realize they've been killing their own. Their less than stellar numbers prove it."

"Their attitudes prove it," Bakura concurred. He hated that his intuition had been correct, but now more than ever he felt it was necessary to follow it. Moreover, he wished that he could have been wrong. That this place could have been that somewhere to call home. His knuckles ached in tandem in this thought with how roughly he clenched them.

"Was there someone named Robert there?" a quiet voice ventured, intruding upon the conversation. They all snapped to attention toward the now open bedroom door. Two girls peered out curiously at the boy who had taken a few paces into the hallway, twisting at his sleeves until seams popped and the fabric tore. D's eyes shone, not with tears, but with a building fear of knowing.

"It's not like the dead can talk," Simon replied with a laugh that covered his budding worry. Bakura's eyes flicked to him and shook his head. The joke would be unappreciated by many in the room. If anything, they were all too familiar with the dead speaking.

"How did you know?" Mai questioned, aghast. Anzu covered her mouth once more, as if her response would only worsen the revelation. Both of their minds drifted back to the iron-on name tag.

"Because I heard someone mention it," D said, his usually still voice wavering. "I'm sorry everyone…but I may have made a terrible mistake."

Off in another building, squeezed into a cramped corner of a dimly lit hallway, Yugi and Jounochi were having similar misgivings. Tailing the one they knew to be the leader had been easier than expected—considering their reputation in the city and the amount of people around said individual—but they had not expected to stumble on anything quite so odd, or ominous. As Yugi sucked in a breath of discomfort, he reflected on how he came to be in this position just as much as he did on the ramifications of if they were caught.

Having seen the building that the man they shadowed had entered with his entourage, Yugi had harmlessly wandered toward the wreckage of a former train track in an attempt to play sight-seer and distance himself from Jounochi. The tall blonde had lingered longer, until no one remained focused on the position he would come from. Then, wasting no more time, he had taken off down the alley that divided the targeted business complex and another pair of buildings. His duty had been to find another way in. Yugi had managed to swing around from his false tourism in time to see Jounochi enter through a previously unexposed back entrance. He had quickly followed and their reunion had been silent but no less excited as they grasped each other's hands.

The building had thankfully been empty, and they had breached what meager security had been in place with ease. They had also refrained from speaking, partially to hear where their targets were, and partially to ensure they gave no hint of their approach. Everything had been smooth sailing, even up to the point where the pair found the door of the main conference hall in use. That had been when everything had changed.

First, the door had opened. That instant was how they found themselves in their current predicament, pressed against each other, in the slim corner where the door met hallway wall. Somehow, their quarry had stoppered the door with just enough room to squeeze the two of them into the tiny triangular space. Both had wanted to let out a sigh of relief, but the two held it, aware one wrong move could at best cause an awkward situation, at worst, death. Squished and angled uncomfortably between Jounochi and where wall greeted wall at a right angle, Yugi's ear pressed against a divide that failed to intern all the sound, making for a slightly muffled, but good introduction to the quiet conversations that pervaded the waiting bunch. Jounochi had his neck twisted in a muscle cramping position, providing him a view of a window shaded enough that allowed for the rudimentary light inside to bounce off just so to see those meeting.

The room was set up much like a stereotypical stuffy boardroom found in some TV drama. Dead plants that would have accentuated the room still lay half formed in their pots, yet nothing denoting personality existed, the rounded oval table in the room barely offsetting the basic blue of the carpet. The men and women inside sat around in comfortable swivel chairs that had seen better days, although they did look better tended to than much of what was strewn about in the current world. A well-used whiteboard with illegible scribblings lined the most visible portion of the back of the room, drawing attention to the only oddity in the room. A massive, bulky cross rested on the back wall, its homemade design striking compared to the sterile ambiance of the rest of the conference room.

With a silent, uncomfortable nod, that they felt rather than saw, each agreed to their position: one would take in the visuals, while the other listened in. It was true that they could have completed both on their own, however, it was easier to remember particulars if they focused on one aspect alone. They prepared themselves to share what intel they would gather, but neither expected the exchange that began in earnest, foregoing the return of their absent compatriot. A sort of roll call went out, setting the tone of the meeting. The names presented meant little to the young men hidden in their unintended nook; they had not met most of them yet. They only recognized those from the immediate attack, and the name of the one in charge. What meant more was what came after.

"For all those wondering, Stephen will be returning shortly with beverages. His wife had a bit of a time with her hand juicer, but for those aiming for something a little fresher, it's on the way. He has stated he is fine with the meeting moving on. Is this fine with those attending?"

A chorus of "Ayes" filled the air, clear enough for even Jounochi to grasp what was occurring. They were speaking so low, as if their gathering held an air of secrecy, even here. Jounochi noted someone writing something on a pad of paper as this occurred.

"Well then. I call this meeting into order, as the sun dips below the horizon, betraying this holy day to the devils of olden times."

"I would like to bring up the first agenda item if that is acceptable to you," a new voice said, and the two hidden strained their ears to listen. Yugi heard a near silent affirmation and the unknown person continued. "Today I gathered intelligence from our usual sources that many fine people are amongst these new visitors. It appears that most of them would be happy to join us and our cause without too many concerns—or questions."

"This may be a separate item," yet another voice chimed in, "but I feel it works in tandem with the present discussion. There have been a few of our own that have come to me with the express concern that some within the ranks of our new arrivals are a little too nosy for their own good."

"It could be that they're just unaware of our expectations—"

"Manners more like."

"Enough," Paul's voice rang out clearly, echoing into the hall. "One at a time, as we agreed."

"Certainly. Forgive me."

Jounochi noted a curt nod coming from the head of the table. "Proceed."

"We clearly do not want the innocents who have come to us to fall victim to what dregs may still lurk in the dark corners of our land—"

Yugi and Jounochi shifted uneasily, aware of their position, and how uncomfortable the connotations were behind those words. Each took in a measured breath and continued their observations. They had missed some of the discussion in their discomfort.

"—must be careful of what they would bring to us."

"There is a man amongst them that seems to be particularly religious—"

"A plus if it's true."

"I've spoken with him, myself," a new voice boasted. "He spoke of how he was nearly ordained before the whole world went to shit—"

"Language, Verona. Outside, it is fine. But we are in a meeting and should take care to show respect to one another."

"My apologies. What I was trying to get at was that he may be a good…addition to our meetings."

"Truly?"

"If you are speaking of who I think you are, I've heard good things about him—but not of those that he keeps company with."

"Maybe he's trying to have them see sense?"

"They're pushy, to say the least," Paul grumbled. "Either way, let us get on with the point."

"The agenda was to determine whether or not we fully accept these new people into the fold of our society," the one who had originally brought up the talking point said.

Jounochi saw a man sneer. Yugi caught his reply. "And the other was to begin the process of weeding out the undesirables."

"Before or after?" their leader inquired.

"Preferably before. I move that we search airport, and the crates that they have failed to open. They could be hiding something within them."

"I concur," another expressed. "Better to have them all join after we are positive that they are not one of them."

"And if they are?" Paul asked, his voice anticipatory.

"Extermination, of course."

"Those who would be allies to the vampires," the one Yugi thought to be Verona interjected, "those devils—deserve to die."

This proclamation caused an uproar, one that escalated to audible heights and left the two men chilled to the bone, more so than they had been outside. Voices raised, echoing down the "empty" corridor, ignoring what order they had previously insisted upon. It was impossible for either Yugi or Jounochi to decipher who was who, but the malice was intense.

"And how else did they get that thing flying?"

"Only the vampire knew of such things!"

"And seduced others in our own ranks to think that their rule would be preferable to our own."

"Brought them so low as to try to drag us into their depravity as well!"

"And these others could be doing so to the people that they have dragged here!"

"Did you see the discomfort on their faces when we first told them of our calling?!"

"Did you hear how they treat their children?!"

"Damning them from the outset!"

"We will draw them out and hunt every one of them!"

"Death to the vampires! Death to their ilk! Death to their sympathizers!"

Yugi nearly let out a squeak when they heard footsteps behind them, coming down the hall. He bit down hard on his lip, trying to calm himself. He pulled Jounochi closer, dragging him lower by his collar to ensure that neither of them would be visible to the one returning. He only hoped the light was low enough to cover what might be impossible to hide.

"Order! I call for order!" Paul's voice rang, and the footsteps quickened. The clanging of glassware made it harder to hear, but as the commotion died down, both distinctly heard,

"All in favor of assessing the airport say aye!"

"Aye!" The whole room roared.

"Nays?"

The room became silent. Only the sound of clinking hurrying into the room created any sound for the seconds necessary for the vote.

"Do we agree to accept them if they are not tainted?"

The chorus cried "Aye". Yugi and Jounochi both heard the newest voice chime in as well, clearly not wanting to miss being a part of a vote.

"Nays?"

Again, silence.

"And will we consider a new member, if they are truly called to the priesthood?"

Again, "Ayes" filled the room.

In the glass' reflective image, Jounochi could see Paul scan the room for opposition. The smile that spread on his face smeared his countenance into a devilish image in the slight warping of the pane. "Alright. Let us move on to the next agenda item…Stephen, close the door if you would."

They waited only for the assurance that the door clicked shut before they made their move. With one swift motion, Jounochi practically carried his friend as the two raced out of the business building. They whispered what they had heard to each other to fill in what bits they might have missed, both expressions frozen in the same stark shock that Mai and Anzu had expressed earlier that day. Neither was certain that any of them were safe, but what was certain was that the others needed to be aware. And careful. Oh, so careful.

For one wrong move could kill them all.

"Where did Bakura say he was going?" Amami asked, taking care while lighting a candle with a wooden match provided by their city hosts. Outside had reached the cusp where twilight entered true evening; two of those in the bedroom would soon not be able to see at all that clouded night. Claire glanced in D's direction, the boy propped against the wall, on edge and ready to leap at a moment's notice. She sighed.

He did not need to say a word to express he was still mentally beating himself up over what had been an honest misunderstanding. No one had directed him to use either name. No one had directed any of them in fact. Amami had not strayed far from their quarters at the behest of her father, and Claire had been in trouble too often to really travel a great distance and hold a conversation with anyone out of their inner circle. Thus, neither had been exposed to the unfair position the boy had been put in. She sighed once again, this time in relief, when his appearance relaxed slightly; he looked to the two of them with that sense of calm he was always desperate to show.

"He said he was going to check on Otogi-kun and put him on high alert. No one here knows about him, after all. He'll be back soon," the boy informed. He offered the two a flicker of a smile, something that reassured both of his friends. A smile was something he never feigned.

"In case anyone else managed to screw it up worse than you did," his hand spouted. The pleasant expression dissipated with its smug taunt. However, the symbiont said little more as D carefully opened the drawer of the end table and pinned it between the box of wood and the bulk of the furniture. His silent warning.

Amami grimaced. She neither cared much for the voice nor the implication of what he intended to do if it spoke again. Claire grabbed for the spray bottle and tossed it between her hands—the only thing she could think to do to counter her own, unrelated, uneasiness. Its weight comforted her. Her belief comforted her more.

"You guys think that we're going to need to be on high alert, ourselves?" she asked, eyeing her friends as she continued to pass the bottle back and forth. "Mai, Anzu, and Zoe have gone out as well to check on the rest of 'our people'."

"My father is supposed to be here, soon," Amami stated. "That's why they told us they were leaving to do that, otherwise not all of them would have gone. I don't think we should go too crazy. We should stay put and stay out of trouble. Simon's here, anyway."

"Yeah, as if that's going to help much."

"I think it's finally hitting him that this is a serious issue," D said. He waited quietly for a moment and then pulled the drawer forward as far as it would go before slamming it on his hand. Whatever it had been about to say had been silenced once more, and D hardly blinked when he pulled it out to flex it; bruises staining his pale skin in their temporary blotches. He would be fine in moments.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Amami said, shaking her head. The gifted ribbon smacked against her cheek, catching her attention, and she twisted her fingers around it. Her eyes, searching to look anywhere but his injured hand, were drawn to the curtained window and the flickering light that danced across its ruffled cream surface.

"That sounded awful," Claire agreed. "You don't think he'll come in and check on us?"

"He's outside," D replied, disinterested. "Keeping watch, but probably trying to look like he's just hanging out. I can hear him fidgeting by the front door."

'He doesn't have that sort of hearing, anyway,' he added mentally.

"I want my daddy," the dark-haired girl whimpered suddenly. Claire let a grumble rise in her throat before she shifted to take a seat beside the other girl. She rested the bottle beside her as she wrapped an arm around the child currently near tears. Amami leaned into her and let out a little sob of fear.

"He'll be home soon, just like you said. Then we'll tell him what's going on. It's not like anything has actually happened to us yet," Claire soothed.

D nodded. "We just have to be a bit more careful."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Or maybe they just need to be specific."

"Maybe. But Simon was right, in a way," D sighed. He fussed with his torn shirt, irritated with himself, and began pacing the room. "If we make a move right now, or start acting secretive, it's going to look strange. Let the adults handle it—they technically have more experience. We'll stay here until everything has blown over."

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Amami muttered, her tears drying on her cheeks. "But I want to leave."

"Same here," Claire sympathized. "I want out. I don't like this place at all."

"We just have to wait and—" D came to an abrupt stop and cocked his head slowly. His eyes looked to the ceiling and trailed along to the back of the building. He motioned to them with two fingers which Claire recognized meant second story. Then he flattened his hand and tapped above it. The roof, then. Whatever the sound he had heard was, it came from the roof.

She grabbed the neck of her spray bottle and dragged the other girl's arm around her before shuffling back to a cornered area, grabbing their personal items when she could. D swiftly began putting their other things together; the only one quiet enough to open the squeaky closet door without notifying anyone. He had managed to slide his blade in the makeshift sling he had made for his bag before his attention snapped upward once more. He scowled and pointed to Claire and then their things. Then, D tapped himself and pointed to the door.

She nodded. He would be the quickest, and quietest, to alert Simon of the sound only he could hear. They would finish what he had begun. It would no doubt have their patrolling adult confused, but they all could guess what was going to occur, and they looked fearfully to one another for comfort before resuming their tasks. D slid out of the room without even the shifting whisper of fabric. After he left, Claire directed Amami to grab the rest of their things while she hurried across the room and tried to unzip the bag without sound. The dark-haired child grabbed hold of the other's guitar from the corner of the room, hugging it close to her chest to ensure it would make less sound if knocked around. She then realized that whatever was going to occur, they were split up in the room. Fear filled her eyes again. She did not want to be separated.

Amami shuffled over to her, snatching the satchel of what she thought were Bakura's things. The bag was heavy, and when she tried to swing it with effort to her back, the leather bag smacked against the instrument, creating a dull thudding twang. She gasped.

Claire glared at her, having tossed what she had collected into their bag. Her expression said enough, but when she was about to mouth her displeasure, they heard a crash and a then a crumbling sound from above. Amami ran to Claire's side and stared up at the ceiling with her. A heavy thud of some matter struck the second-story floor hard enough to leave a crack above their heads. Both girls shuffled back towards the bed nearest the curtained window but did not leave. D would first return here, and there might be others outside.

The two took in a deep breath and grabbed each other's free hand—steadying themselves for whatever was coming from above.